By Colleen Foley
“C’mon, really? Funky weather? That’s low rank crap. Tell Jimmy to have Ronny Sparks check it out.”
Seth raised an eyebrow at me, but otherwise didn’t move a muscle. I
know that look. He wasn’t going to give an inch. It occurred to me
that the whole thing might be a convenient excuse engineered by Jimmy,
to get us talking again. If it was, he and I were having words.
I sighed heavily and pointed at the other chair with my fork.
“Fine. But this apple-rum pie is rumored to be legendary around here. You can talk while I eat.”