But if anyone was rude, it was him – even if his rudeness was wrapped in concern. Suddenly, I felt an urgent need to explain. "Don't get me wrong. I know we've done plenty of personal stuff.It's just that, well…it seems kind of premature for me to lay out my finances when we haven't known each other all that long."
His mouth tightened. "We're not exactly strangers."
"I know. I just said that." I swallowed. "Didn't I?"
"But…?"
But what?I was grasping for straws. "Well…for starters, I don't even know where you live."
"Chicago."
I blinked. I hadn't really expected an answer. And now that I had one, I wasn't quite sure what to do with it. It suddenly struck me as really strange that I'd just learned this now. "And what about your place on the island?"
"A dump, just like I said."
I kept quiet as I tried to process this whole conversation. Ihadplanned for some sort of discussion today, but this wasn't going according to script.
Into my silence, he added, "Trust me, you'd hate it."
Odd.He'd said the same thing about Sierra – thatshe'dhate the place, too. And call me crazy, but I wasn't liking the comparison at all. "Maybe I should see it for myself."
He frowned. "Why?"
"Because that's what people do when they're…" I broke off, unsure how to put it. Finally, I settled on, "…whatever we are."
As that phrase hung between us, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
Whatever we are.It sounded awful, but that didn't make it untrue. Regardless, I now felt stupid – like I'd accidentally asked for a commitment – or worse, hinted Ididn'twant one at all.Just great.Maybe I'd managed both, which made no sense considering they were polar opposites.
Griff stared at me for a long moment before saying, "Alright. I'll make you a deal."
Something in his eyes made me hesitate. "What sort of deal?"
"Tonight, I'll show you where I'm living."
I perked up. "Really?"
"And in return, you'll tellmewhat's going on with the bank." He held up a finger. "With one catch."
I braced myself. "Okay…what's the catch?"
"You go first."
51
Of Mustard, Mold, and Mystery Men
Maisie
The smell hit me first – damp wood and something distinctly fishy. I meant that literally. The smell of dead fish was nearly overpowering as I followed Griff up the creaking stairs.
Finally, when he pushed open the door, I saw it – his island home.
From the open doorway, I stared in surprise. A slanted ceiling hovered over sparse furniture and sickly yellow walls. A narrow bed sagged near the far corner as a rickety table stood guard beside it, surrounded by exactly one folding chair.
The kitchenette looked like it belonged in a horror movie, complete with a flickering overhead light and a fridge that groaned like it had eaten bad seafood for lunch.
I didn't enter because the squeamish part of me didn't want to.