Chapter 92

Tim just looked at Dix. Cris hadn’t seen that look in a long time. He was glad it wasn’t directed toward him.

“If I call Charles, will he corroborate that?”

Dix turned red and mumbled something.

“What was that?”

“Five hundred, okay?”

Tim nodded.

“Here’s your sandwich.” Cris put it on the small kitchen table before him. “Coke? Pepsi?”

“A beer?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You know I’m not as young as I look.”

None of them were. “It has nothing to do with age. If things go south, we’ll need you to be frosty.”

“Yeah?” His eyes widened. They were pretty eyes, almost aquamarine in color, and Cris knew if this kid came from Charles’s stable, then they had to be contact lenses. “Okay. I’ll have a Pepsi, then.”

“Here you go.” Cris handed him a blue, white, and red can that sweated condensation before he turned to Tim. “I’ll get changed and be ready in five minutes.”