Page 3 of Too Cursed To Kiss
I ignored him and slid into the booth beside Tyre.
“What’cha doing here, Harlan?” he asked, stretching out his neck. He loomed like the brute of a male he was. All sweaty, pumped muscle in a signature cheap white undershirt, which prominently displayed his perky nipples. I’d called him out on it a while back, and he’d admitted it was only half for the chicks. Shirts didn’t fit his gorilla arms unless he had them custom made, and he was too cheap for that. Too cheap for a lot of things, like paying good people what they were worth.
“I’ve got a package for you.” I took Gentry’s pen out of my purse, peeling off a violet sugar candy that had glued itself to the note, and pushed it across the table. Violet had been my grandmother’s favorite and some memoires were worth keeping alive.
Tyre looked down at the ink-smeared hunk of gold, then up at me with wary brown eyes. A muscle twitched in his thick neck as he nodded at it. “Isn’t that Gentry’s?” he asked, his rubbery lips turning down into a frown.
“Who else do you know who has something that ugly?” I asked, rubbing my sticky fingers on my leggings.
Tyre sat back against the banquette and released a deep sigh. “Yeah, well… turns out… There’s no nice way to say this. The police called. Gentry is dead.”
“What? No, I just talked to him.” The air was hard to breathe as my brain raced to catch up. Tyre nodded, and my stomach cramped. I struggled to form a sentence. “What the hell happened?” Maybe it was shock, but the stark reality of it wasn’t sinking in. I probably should have been crying or something. I’d cried when my aunt died, but that was at her gravesite. I rubbed my hand over my lips. Gentry hadn’t deserved to die. I prayed it wasn’t by knives. He hated knives.
“They said the end was quick, as quick as it can be,anyway. Some kind of intestinal thing. They’re running tests. My contact down at the station said it might be poison. I got the call because I was the last number dialed on his phone.”
“Poison?” I pulled out my cell and looked at it dumbly. It was dead. Like Gentry. Was he murdered? It sure as hell wasn’t suicide. Gentry had no interest in leaving this world. What poison would be accidental? Food? Drug overdose? As far as I knew, he’d stopped using. I glanced at my phone, wondering if the police had called me too. If it was poison, it must be fast-acting because I’d talked to him forty minutes ago.
Rubbing my forehead, I willed the dull headache away and latched on to the present to hold myself together. “Why did Gentry call you?” My voice cracked.
Tyre’s eyes were glassy, like he cared about Gentry. That was news. I didn’t think Tyre had a soft side.
“He was supposed to do a job tonight, but the voicemail was unintelligible. He was raving, maybe dying. I don’t know. He did say something about his pen, so I’m not touching that. Did he give it to you?”
“Nah, I picked it up.”
“So you didn’t see him, then?”
“He called and told me to pick the pen up. I have keys. He left me a note.”
“Keys, huh? So, you and Gentry got it on?” Tyre’s coffee-brown eyes searched my face. I kept my expression locked down.
“None of your business,” I snapped. I’d insisted Gentry keep his mouth shut about our shacking up. It might have been the only thing he’d ever done right.
The quiet moment and the tight-lipped glare from Tyre turned me honest. “Fine. We drunk-slept together, and itturned into more. But we’ve been over since last year. He probably didn’t tell you because it wasn’t important.”
I laughed bitterly and sipped at the beer to cover the stupid sound, remembering how Gentry had brought home a bottle of sparkling wine and a half-dead dandelion to convince me to stay. He thought he had a big heart, but the asshole couldn’t understand I wanted no part of his harem plan.
Tyre sucked on his mod, hollowing his cheeks. Smoky vapor trailed out of his nostrils. Some women would die to get into his pants. Not me. He was the type I couldn’t run away from fast enough. A walking HR violation who cared about money more than anything else.
He leaned back and puffed on his mod. “Crap way to go, puking up your guts.”
“Did they say that?” I ran my hand through my hair. Tyre’s face had taken on a fuzziness. How had half a beer leftme blurry? I needed real food.
“Nah, I just assumed. Haven’t had anyone die on me in a while.”
“That’s reassuring.” Goddamn it, how could Gentry be dead? He owed me two hundred on top of the four he’d promised.
I rolled the pen between my fingers.
Maybe I could pawn it. I stuffed it back into my purse, wiping the ink slime under the table.
Someone would have to deal with Gentry’s body. He had no relatives, and his so-called friends would never show up to do something for free. My mom and aunt were dead, and friends were part of the past. Unless Jules showed up, there’d probably be nobody at my funeral either. Now, not even Gentry. I wondered if he’d left a will. Maybe I was an heiress.
Tyre rested his elbows on the table, looking me over. “Hey, Gentry’s been doing the cash drop on Fridays. You wanna do it tonight since you’re already here? It’ll be ready at three.”
Ha, that was fast. He’s dead, and you’re like, so, where do I find a replacement? You bastard.” I guess Gentry really was nothing more to him than a few extra coins to add to his pile. At least, the job he was offering wouldn’t break any laws. I was determined to get my PI provisional license.
“Thanks.” His front gold tooth glinted in the downlight. I shifted to ease the ache in my gut, pushing the beer bottle farther away as if that would help.
