“Yes.” And before she could ask why, he jerked his head at the coffee shop. “Case in point.”
Kit spotted Tony’s head rising like a plucked chicken to peer at them through the window. She frowned at Grif over the hood. “If you don’t see the best in him, then why are you staying with him?”
He seared her with a look as he slammed the car door shut. “ ’Cause we’re friends.”
And he strode across the lot in that smooth, dangerous gait.
Shaking her head, she followed him in.
Tony was seated in a wooden booth lined with lumpy red cushions, perched at a table that looked like it’d been lacquered in lieu of cleaning. Hunched over a plate of pasta the size of his head, surrounded by a half-dozen other dishes, he glanced up, eyes gleaming. “You gotta try the ziti!”
Kit smiled as she slid into the seat across from him. “It’s good to see you out, Tony. How does it feel?”
“I forgot what it was like. So many scents, so many noises.” He jerked his head, and Kit saw a waitress coming their way with a coffee pot. “What do you think of her?”
“Long in the tooth,” Grif muttered, before the mugs were dropped down in front of them. Kit elbowed him in the stomach.
Tony grinned up at the waitress as she refilled his cup, then leaned forward when she left. “Ah, but she’s got all her own teeth. I like that. Here. Try the meatballs. And these pancakes. They’re amazing. I tell you, you can’t get this delivered.”
Grif held up his hand, but Kit dug into the pasta. It really was good. Tony wiggled his brows when she sighed, which made her laugh again. How could Grif not like this guy?
“You’re being rude,” she told him, and both men stared. “You are. This is a celebration. Tony’s first day back in the real world. Here. Eat some ziti.”
She held the fork up to his mouth. Grif pursed his lips and glared.
Tony laughed. “You’re not going to sway that stubborn old coot with macaroni. If he’s determined to be moody, he’s gonna be moody.”
“You should talk,” Grif shot back.
“Respect your elders,” Kit hissed so that Tony couldn’t hear. She smiled over at him apologetically, and ate the bite Grif had rejected. “His loss.”
“ ’At’s all right. Grif and I go way back. Fifty years, give or take.” He squinted in Grif’s direction. “That about right, Shaw?”
“That’s right, Tony,” he said, but gave Kit a knowing look. Dementia. She frowned sympathetically, and felt her appetite take a slight dive.
Tony dug around his plate, still talking. “Yep, I used to look up to ol’ Grif here. He knew when to hedge and when to move the line back. ’Course, he was working a legal trade… and had that stunner of a wife to keep him in line.”
Kit’s stomach sank further, and she swallowed hard.
“Tony,” Grif said lowly.
“What?” Tony looked up, catching the look on his friend’s face. “Oh. Sorry, Grif.”
There was silence that felt like it would fill the hour, then Tony tapped at the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “Listen, I been asking around for you. Got out the old Rolodex. Used the old number. Actually got ahold of the kid.”
“What kid?” Kit glanced up, blinking. “What number?”
Tony looked at Grif, and raised his brows.
Grif gave a short nod. “It’s okay. You can talk in front of her.”
Tony nodded and resumed eating. “Ray DiMartino. He’s fifty-seven now, not really a kid anymore I guess, but I’ll always see him running the dice in the back of his dad’s liquor store.”
“How… endearing,” Kit said.
Tony chuckled. “Anyway, he owns the old place on Industrial, though they ain’t running booze no more.”
“What is it?” Grif asked.
“Ever hear of Masquerade?”
“The strip club?” Kit asked.
“Gentlemen’s club,” Tony corrected, causing Kit to scoff. He pointed his fork at her. “Sorry, missy, but you can’t change a man’s predilections. It’s simple human nature.”
Kit waved her perfectly manicured hand in the air. “I don’t care about that. There’s just no, I don’t know,
So did Tony. “Your point?”
“You should see a neo-burlesque show if you want to see something truly sexy. There’s drama, there’s kitsch. Winks and nods. It’s not just titillating, it’s full of life. It’s fun.”
Tony shook his head. “See what I been missing? Neo-burlesque. Everything old is new again.” He dug back into his ziti. “Anyway, the kid remembers you. Said you used to throw him a few bills when he was cleaned out.”
Kit drew back. How was that possible if Grif wasn’t from here, and was over twenty years younger than the man in question? She wondered again about Tony’s dementia, but her phone buzzed with a text before she could follow the thought.
Meanwhile, Tony kept eating, kept talking. “He’s grateful for the work you did on behalf of his family and his aunt Mary Margaret, and said you’re welcome to meet him at the club. Any night but Monday. That’s his night off.”
“Thanks, Tony.”
Tony shrugged. “Hey, we’re friends, right?”
“That’s right.”
Chewing, the old man nodded for a bit, then stilled. “I gotta take a leak. Don’t touch my chow.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Grif waited until the old man had slid from the booth, then turned to Kit. “What just happened?”
Distracted, Kit pulled her gaze from the window, and focused on him. “Sorry. I wasn’t listening. What?”
“Not with Tony. With you.” Grif almost looked angry as he studied her face. “One minute you’re eating like a starved horse and talking sex with a man three times your age. The next you’re staring out the window as if you’re the one stepping out for the first time in thirty years. Who was on the phone?”
Kit blew out a breath, surprised. She should have known he’d been paying attention. “It was just a text from Paul. Tickets for the benefit are waiting in my mailbox. He thought it best to just drop them off as he didn’t have time to meet in person.”
Grif studied her carefully, then finally said, “Why do you do that?”
She stopped rubbing her eyes. “What?”
“Give that knucklehead your softest emotion, then let him load it up and fire it back at you.” He shook his head, disgusted. “You always look war-torn when you come off a conversation with Pretty Paul.”
She didn’t chide him for the nickname. “I feel it, too,” she admitted, and frowned. Was that the first time she’d said it out loud? Sighing, she leaned her head back, then rolled it toward him. “What about you. Tony mentioned a wife?”
Even now, at the last word, Kit’s throat tried to close up. Of course he would have a woman. Probably more than one, looking like that-walking with thrust, taking up all that room. He didn’t wear a ring, but many men didn’t. Maybe it was because of his job. She’d read enough detective novels. Letting clients and suspects know you had family could be dangerous. Of course, he might not have worn one for the same reason Paul hadn’t. The thought depressed her.
“I’m married to my work these days.”
The words lifted her spirits, but the regret shadowing them did not.
“There’s more to life than that,” Kit said softly.
“That right, Kitty-Kat?”
The way he said it made her heart skip faster, and blood flooded the rest of her pulse points. The mild crush she was nursing over this severe man unfurled, blooming until her breath literally caught in her chest. And when he laid one wide hand over hers, she trembled. Having first seen his hands bunched into fists, flailing on her behalf, she
