Free Slasherazzi by Daniel A. Kaine Page B

last time you ate? I have steak and sweet potatoes. Medium-rare, too. Your favorite, right?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. Vince could always be counted on to remember things like that. The jerk could probably write a whole book on me with all the information he had stored in that head of his.
“Kitchen. Now,” I ordered him.
Vince smiled and led the way. He set the takeout boxes down on the table and motioned for me to sit while he rummaged through the drawers for a steak knife. I opened the nearest box and breathed in the glorious scent of hot meat, my mouth watering in anticipation.
“You know, women would kill to have a man look at them like you’re eyeing that steak right now,” Vince teased.
I narrowed my eyes at him and snatched the utensils from his hand. “Shut up,” I replied, tearing into the thick slab of meat. Juices flowed from the cut, and I licked my lips. “Haven’t had anything at all to eat today.” I shoved the first piece into my mouth and groaned in delight. Being starved for so long made it that much more enjoyable.
“Have you been that busy all day?” Vince asked, arching an eyebrow. “Wait, don’t tell me it was bad enough to affect even your iron stomach.”
I paused chewing and looked down at the table. The crime scene was the last thing I needed to be thinking about while eating. All that dried blood and pieces of flesh.
“Shit, sorry. Probably should have picked a better topic while you’re eating, huh?” Vince said hurriedly. “Hey, do you have any beers?”
I forced the lump of meat down my throat. “Bottom shelf in the fridge.”
Vince opened the door and took out two bottles. After removing the lids, he set one down in front of me. He leaned against the counter and took a large mouthful of his beer.
“You want me to drink on an empty stomach?” I asked. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
Vince snickered. “That wasn’t my intention, but then again, you are quite amusing after a few drinks. Remember when we first started dating and I took you to that bar over in Ybor?”
Of all the damn nights he could bring up. I snorted and leaned back.
“Who am I kidding?” Vince asked. “I know you don’t remember a thing after that sixth shot of tequila.”
I rubbed at my right temple. The mere thought of that night was enough to give me a headache. I hadn’t been able to touch tequila since without my stomach cramping. “And who was the one practically pouring it down my throat to begin with?”
Vince held up his hands in surrender. “Guilty. It’s a shame you don’t remember much, because that was one hell of a night. I mean, when you got up on the stage to dance to Beyoncé…Dude, that was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen.”
I groaned and shook my head. “Why do you have to torture me like this?”
Vince laughed. “And when the drag queens joined in, too.” He raised one hand up into air and began shaking his hips. “Oh, man. The three of you were grinding together like animals in heat.”
“Stop. Please, just stop,” I said, unable to hold back the chuckle as he continued his mock dance. He did as I asked and sat opposite me, taking another swig of beer.
“We’ll have to do that again sometime. You know, Fonda Cox still asks about you. Wants to know when you’ll be making another appearance.” He smirked, and I grimaced.
“Never again,” I replied, picking up my bottle. I swallowed a small mouthful and sighed. After a long, hot, stressful day, maybe a cold one was just what I needed. I picked up my fork and dug into the mound of sweet potato. My stomach rumbled appreciatively at the offering.
When I had finished my meal—or what I could manage of it, as I hadn’t touched most of the steak after the topic of Fernando had come up—I leaned back in the chair and rubbed my stomach. God, that was just what I needed. Vince hadn’t said another word as he waited for me. He merely smiled and continued drinking. Damn bastard was in one of his considerate