"You know how."
"I don't fuckin' believe you," I muttered.
"Hey, I was in and out. Five minutes. No big deal."
I knew how he worked. Unless hewantedChloe to find out, there'd be no sign he'd been there. Odds were pretty good she'd never know. ButIknew. And I didn't like it.
"It's a big deal to me," I told him. "And it sure as shit would be a big deal to her."
"Yeah, 'cause you're a regular angel." His tone quieted. "Listen, you're so blinded by this chick that you're not thinking straight. The way you talk, the way you look at her, you'd better be careful. If her address doesn't match, there's more to her story. There always is."
"So what if it doesn't match?" I said. "My address doesn't match my license, either."
"Yeah, becauseyoujust moved. And your last place wasn't that much different from this. Hers? It matches some low-rent shithole in Hamtramck."
I shook my head. It wasn't that I didn't believe him. His track record was too good for that. But there had to be more to the story. The girl in question was upstairs. Soon, I'd get to know her,reallyknow her.
Whatever her living situation was, I'd find out. But I'd do it the right way, by asking her.
Bishop pointed toward Chloe's yard. "And the owner of the househere? It's some surgeon. Guy's not married, either."
I paused. At the fence, I'd met someone who claimed to be the owner, Leo. But if that douchebag was a surgeon, I was a prancing pony.
Did that mean that Leowasn'tthe owner? Shit, what if he'd been there robbing the place? What if the electrical truck was part of the gig?
No. That couldn't be right, either. Chloe had confirmed the electrical thing. The whole situation was messed up. The sooner I asked her, the better. Until then, I sure as hell didn't want to discuss it with Bishop.
"So?" I said, thinking of the surgeon. "It's probably her dad." At least, I sure as hell hoped so.
"Except," Bishop said, "the guy doesn't have any kids."
"Not that you know of."
"Will you listen to yourself?" Bishop said. "A single guy with money? A girl half his age acting like she owns the place? You knowexactlywhat that means."
Enough was enough. At my sides, I felt my fists clench. I stepped forward until we were almost chest-to-chest. "I'm only gonna say this once. Lay off her." My voice rose. "I don't care that her address doesn't match, and I don't care that you're a paranoid motherfucker, and I sure as hell don't care that for whatever fucked-up reason, you don't like her."
"I didn't say I don’t like her," Bishop said. "I'm just saying she's hiding something."
"Yeah, and we're not? Stop being an asshole. If you can't, then get the fuck out."
"You know who you sound like?"
"Don't say it," I warned.
"Dad."
I looked at him a long time. Unlike Bishop, who'd grown up with the guy, I'd seen my dad maybe a dozen times. It wasn't exactly a positive experience.
"Get out," I said.
"You want me to leave?" Bishop shrugged. "Alright. I'll go." He turned and began walking toward the shadows. "But you need to wise up, and fast."
He was wrong. The only thing I needed was Chloe.
He didn't know her like I did. She was sweet and funny and smart as hell. And unlike every other girl I'd met in the last few years, she wanted nothing from me. She treated me like just a regular guy. It was different. I liked it.
No. I loved it. When I was with her, I felt like the person I used to be – before Brandy, before the sex tape, before I'd become a brand, not a person.
