Slow Agony (Assassins, #2)(32)

“I’m not upset,” I said.

“It’s about Griffin, isn’t it? You’re pissed that he ran off on you.”

“No.”

Silas raised his eyebrows.

“He didn’t run off anyway. Like you said, we split up. That’s all there is to it.”

“Sure,” he said. “So, then, what? You swallow a lemon or something?”

“Do we have to talk?”

“Look, the guy cares about you. Anyone could see that.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “How do you figure that?”

“It’s in the way he looks at you. He gets all dewy eyed.”

“He does not.” I rolled my eyes. “Besides, if he cared, he wouldn’t have run off on me.”

Silas chuckled. “Yeah, I knew you were pissed at him.”

“I’m not. Not really.” I peered out the window. “This is the way he is. I should know better than to expect him to be different.”

“What way is he?”

“He runs when things get tense,” I said. “He’s done it ever since I met him. I’m better off without him.”

“You probably are,” said Silas. “Near as I can tell, these relationship things only cause problems. First off, you’re weaker, because you’ve got one more person that your enemies can attack. Second off, you’re distracted, because you’re always thinking about the other person instead of yourself. And third off, everyone I know who’s in a relationship argues constantly.”

“Griffin and I are not in a relationship,” I said.

“Sure you’re not.”

I reached over and turned on the radio, blaring the music too loud for further conversation. Silas only snickered, shaking his head.

*

I opened the door to my motel room. It was one of those kinds that sat along the road in a big stretch. Like the Bates Motel from Psycho. Motels like that always gave me the creeps.

Silas was at the door. “You want to get a drink at the bar?” He pointed.

There was a building next door to the stretch of motel. It had a cactus-shaped sign that said, “The Oasis.” I chewed on my lip. “That’s a bar?”

“I think they serve food too,” he said. “Looks like a lot of greasy stuff and burgers. You game?”

I sighed. There weren’t many other options. And I was hungry. “Okay, sure.”

“Cool,” said Silas. “Here, um, take the key to my room too, just in case of anything weird happening. You give me one of yours.”

“Sure.” I shoved his key into my pocket and ducked back into my room to get one of my mine. My stomach growled.

Actually, my hunger was weird, now that I thought about it. I’d barely been thinking about food for months. Ever since Griffin left, I hadn’t been interested. Now, suddenly, I was starving. Maybe it was because he’d screwed me last night? Because we’d argued? Hell, maybe it was a coincidence.

I followed Silas across the parking lot to The Oasis. We went inside and were seated by a waitress with a bad dye job and braces. She must have been in high school. For the first few minutes, we were occupied with perusing the menu.

“Everything looks good,” I said. “Especially all the appetizers.”

“You’re right,” said Silas. “Let’s get them all.” He snapped the menu closed.

I giggled. “Seriously?”

“Of course seriously,” he said. “Life’s too short not to live large. I want every appetizer here, and so do you, so let’s do it.”

“I am hungry,” I said. “Really hungry.”

When the waitress came back, Silas ordered. It was fun to watch her reaction as she scribbled it all down. We also ordered margaritas—mine a fancy pomegranate kind, Silas’ normal.

The drinks came out first.

I felt like the tequila went directly to my head.

I felt looser and easier when the first of the appetizers came out. I stuffed loaded nachos in my mouth, chasing them with bacon cheddar potato skins, washing it all down with my margarita.

By the time the waitress brought the rest of our appetizers, I was ready for another drink. So was Silas.

“So,” he said, picking up a jalapeno popper, “you sure you don’t have anything you want to get off your chest?”

I sighed. “You mean about Griffin?”

“About whatever.” He licked his fingers. “Did you try the chili fries yet?”

I nodded, pushing the plate over to him.

He used his fork to scoop some onto his appetizer plate. “We should really get the waitress to bring us bigger plates.”

I laughed, sipping my delicious pomegranate concoction. “Did you know that cocktails were invented in the 1920s to mask the taste of nasty moonshine?”

He was chewing on his fries. He swallowed. “That can’t be true. They’ve had like gin and tonics forever in England, right?”

I shrugged. “I read it somewhere.”

He laughed. “Well, it must be true then.”

“It must.” I toyed with the straw in my drink. “I had an abortion.”

Silas set down his fork.

I took another drink of my margarita.

“Recently?”