Page 6 of Fish out of Water
“Mr. Frazier’s name is Vito?” Banana Pants walked sideways into the kitchen, keeping her eyes on me as she moved. “And he’s your uncle?”
“Greatuncle.”
“Obviously.” She dropped the tongs and claw into the sink. “Unless you’re aging really well.”
I took another step into the apartment, swinging the door closed behind me.
Her blue eyes widened the tiniest bit as they bounced from me to the block of knives on the counter beside the sink.
If I got stabbed over a damn well-check on an old man who’s getting to be even more of a pain in the ass with age, I was going to be pissed. “My mother sent me to check on Vito and make sure he’s okay.” I held my hands out a little so it was clear I wasn’t planning on doing anything that would warrant her getting stabby. “Where is he?”
Her gaze narrowed a little as it moved over me. “How do I know you are who you say you are?”
I pulled out my phone, thumbing through the screens until I found a photo of me and my uncle from the last time I was sent here to handle the trouble he’d gotten himself into. “Here.” I moved in closer, stretching my arm her way as I kept my eyes on the knives.
Banana Pants took the phone right as it started to go to sleep. When she tapped the screen to wake it up the roll flipped to the next photo in line. Her eyes lifted to mine, one dark brow lifting. “His boobs are bigger than I remember them being.”
I snatched the phone back, suddenly not as worried about potential impaling as I was a few seconds ago. “Sorry.” This time I kept the phone, holding it up for her to see the photo of me with the man she clearly knew at least a little bit. “Are you his caregiver?”
Her eyes dragged from the screen of my phone to fix on my face. “Who?”
Hell.
I rubbed my eyes, wiping away the exhaustion settling in. “Vito. The man whose apartment we’re standing in.”
Banana Pants scowled at me. “Forgive me for losing my train of thought after being assaulted by a pair of fake boobs big enough they could serve as flotation devices.”
“They’re not fake.”
That earned me a laugh, short and sharp and clearly disbelieving. “Those are definitely fake.” She held up her hands, palms facing my way. “Not that fake’s a bad thing.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Maybe for her poor back.”
I put my phone to sleep and shoved it into the pocket of the grey dress pants I’d been wearing since six this morning. I was starting to get frustrated. So far she’d answered exactly zero of the questions I’d asked her.
I was tired.
I was in desperate need of a shower and a shave.
And being reminded of Cricket was the gut-punch topping on the shitfest of a day I was still dealing with. “Where is Vito?”
The brunette eyed me. “Where doyouthink he is?”
I swiped one hand down my face. I thought finding Vito out of his mind would be the worst possible outcome tonight.
I was wrong.
This woman was infinitely more of a pain in the ass than my uncle could ever be.
“Listen, Miss…” I lifted my brows hoping she would fill in her name.
That she would give mesomething.
But her lips stayed pressed together.
I took a deep breath. Maybe I just needed to start again.
“I’m Grant Servantes.” I took one more deep breath, hoping I could power through this night and put it behind me before I was the one out of my mind. “I just need to know where my Uncle Vito is.”
The press of her lips tightened to a purse as she sized me up, making me wait what felt like forever before finally offering the first useful piece of information of the night. “I don’t know where he is.”
