“f**k, this is good,” Petro says, stuffing his face with a cut of ribeye dripping truffle butter. He looks up at me for the first time since the food hit the table. “Not hungry?”
“You’re hungry enough for the both of us.”
Petro’s dark curls bob as he reaches for his beer. “You haven’t even touched your drink.”
“Don’t even think about it. Did you run the license plate I gave you?”
My right-hand man offers me a s**t-eating grin. “Ah, I see the problem. The reason you’re not being very conversational. I knew you had her on the brain.”
I roll my eyes. “I forgot that you expect my undivided attention when we’re together.”
“Our time together is sacred, amigo. Never forget that.”
“You’re about to get hit in the head with a chicken wing,” I warn him, dangling one at him.
He just smiles, as
