"You were saying?" he asked.
"I'll tell you about it in the car. If... " I paused dramatically.
"There are conditions?" He raised one alabaster eyebrow, his voice ominous.
"I do have a few questions, of course."
"Of course," he scoffed.
The waitress was back with two more Cokes. She sat them down without a word this time, and left again.
I took a victory sip.
"Well, go ahead," he pushed, his voice still rock-hard.
I started with the most undemanding. Or so I thought. "Why are you in Fort Angles?"
He looked down, folding his large hands together slowly on the table. His eyes flickered up at me from under his lashes, a hint of a smirk on his face.
"Next."
"But that's the easiest one," I spluttered.
"Next," he repeated.
I pounded my fist on the table and looked down, frustrated. I unrolled my silverware, picked up my fork, and carefully speared a raviolio. It was soft, succulent. I put it in my mouth slowly, still looking down but tasting, tasting the raviolio as I chewed and thought. The mushrooms were good. The raviolio was good. I swallowed and took another sip of Coke. I enjoyed it in the mix.
"Okay, then." I glared up at him, and continued slowly, as if he were the dumbest vampire in the world. "Let's say, hypothetically of course, that... someone... could know what people are thinking, read minds, you know—with a few exceptions."
"Just one exception," he corrected, "hypothetically."
"All right, with one exception, then." I was thrilled he was playing along, but I tried to play it cool.

173

Chapter 8

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