Not What it Seems by Nicky James

Fourteen

Cyrus

“Oh god.” My arms gave out, and I face-planted into the pillow.

With my ass in the air, River’s face buried between my crack, and his tongue spearing my hole, all I could do was moan and writhe. I ground my teeth, my body alive and ready to coast into the next stratosphere. My cock dripped a steady stream onto the bed, so hard it ached. I wanted to touch myself, but I’d been ordered not to. I wanted to grind against the comforter to gain some relief, but River had slapped my ass when I’d tried.

His mouth disappeared, and I whimpered, pushing back, angling for more pressure and coming up empty. His hand came down on my ass cheek with a stinging crack. It sent a jolt of fire through my veins.

“Now, tell me again we’re not fucking tonight.” The gravelly tone of his voice made me shiver.

I whined into the pillow, my eyes pinched closed, embarrassed at how beyond words he’d managed to bring me. The bastard had won. At least River hadn’t mocked my foot fetish. He’d let me have my fun for a while, nibbling and licking and sucking his toes until he couldn’t stand it anymore—the guy was insanely ticklish—then he’d tossed me onto my stomach and gone to town on my ass.

There was literally nothing better in life than having my ass eaten.

Deep down in the faraway reaches of my brain, I knew this whole thing would come back to bite me. It was nothing but raw blissful sex with River. And that was fine, but I knew my brain couldn’t detach the same way. I was in for a world of hurt.

For a guy who was in it for the orgasm, River was so in tune with what I liked and wanted. He read me like a book. I was a greedy bottom in bed, and he’d picked up on that immediately. Grant had treated foreplay like a chore when I’d asked him to take his time prepping me. River turned it into a challenge. How close to the edge could he push me until I was begging and incoherent, a drooling bundle of live wires?

“Please,” I whimpered.

“Please, what?” He buried two fingers inside me, seeking that delicious bundle of nerves that made me tremble. “Use all those dirty words, and I’ll grant your wish.”

“Please fuck me. Please. I can’t take it anymore. I need to come.”

His fingers vanished, replaced by another swipe of his tongue over my hole, and I almost cried from the overwhelming pleasure. I hadn’t even found release, and I was boneless. I listened to the tear of a condom wrapper and flinched when River drizzled an excess amount of cool lube down my ass crack. He worked it inside me using three fingers, and I groaned, needing more. I was good and stretched, vibrating with the need to come each time he grazed my prostate. Any stimulation to my dick and it would be game over. He knew it too, which was why he’d denied me that pleasure.

The fingers vanished again. He traced the head of his cock up and down my crack before nudging my entrance.

“Do it.” I reached a hand back, blindly trying to grab his thigh and tug him forward. “God, please. I can’t. Please.”

River swatted my ass cheek again when I tried to impale myself. “Behave.”

“Please.”

“So needy.”

I whimpered and wanted to cry.

River chuckled and put me out of my misery. I groaned and arched my back as he plunged all the way inside in one go until his balls came to rest on mine.

“So fucking tight,” he growled.

Draping his body over me, River nuzzled my ear. “You’re never going to last, are you?”

I shook my head, needing him to move. “No.”

“You’ve got a killer ass, Doc. And I’m not fluffing your feathers. You have got to be the most responsive lover I’ve ever had in bed. It’s intoxicating. I could eat your ass all night just to listen to you moan like that.”

I groaned at the thought.

River licked the shell of my ear. “Such an ass slut, aren’t you?”

I didn’t have the capacity to respond, but River wanted an answer.

“Tell me.”

“I’m an ass slut,” I said against the pillow, the words slurred together.

“And you love my cock buried inside you, don’t you?”

“So much.”

He rocked his hips, drawing out a few inches then plunging back in. “You want it?”

I nodded.

“Say it.”

“Please fuck me. Please give me your cock.”

“Gonna make you scream. Better hang on.”

I somehow knew he meant it and found purchase on the bedsheets just as River lifted off me, took hold of my waist, and jacked his hips hard, slamming into me and jarring me into the bed. He set a brutal pace, and I was delirious, every nerve ending alight.

It didn’t last. I knew it wouldn’t. I’d been too close for too long. When he ordered me to touch myself, all it took was a few quick strokes and I was done. When I came, I screamed like he’d predicted until my voice cracked. My orgasm hit with a blinding white sparkle of light across my vision, and I tugged the fitted sheet right off the corners of the bed.

River dug his fingers into my hips, taking me through every wave, nailing my prostate with deep, powerful thrusts and growling about the death grip I had on him when my muscles clenched around his dick.

Then he roared and slammed into me one last time, collapsing on my back as he shuddered and shook.

I was delirious, spent, unable to move a muscle. The room spun, and my ears rang. It took several minutes before I could see straight. River’s panting, hot breath was moist on my neck. For a minute, I thought I imagined it, but as my senses realigned, I realized he was planting tiny kisses over my shoulder.

I turned my head, trying to see him. He found my lips, and we shared an awkward but far more passionate kiss than I was expecting.

“God, you’re incredible,” he said against my mouth, his body still trembling with his residual orgasm.

“I’m exhausted and very sweaty.”

I felt a smile pull at his lips as he kissed me again. “I like you sweaty. And moaning. And begging. Fucking beautiful. You have no idea. Will you shower with me this time?”

I paused for a fraction of a second, then threw in the towel. Fuck it. This thing was already about as bad as it could get. I would have to deal with a mountain of heartache when River and I parted ways anyhow. What did it matter?

“Yes.”

“And when we’re done, you and I are gonna crawl into that bed over there where the sheets aren’t wrecked and covered in cum, and we’re gonna sleep together, okay?”

“Okay.”

“No arguing once your brain cells come back online, are we clear?”

“We’re clear.”

“That means no psychoanalyzing yourself or the reasons you caved in and let me fuck you again.”

I laughed, River bouncing on my back with the vibrations. “Get off me so we can shower.”

But he didn’t move. His fingers wound through the hair at the back of my head, and he massaged my scalp as he rolled onto the bed beside me, kissing me properly. Our tongues clashed and glided together as every cell in my body hummed. It was almost sweet and sensual, and I was already breaking about ten of River’s rules because I was making the kiss into something it wasn’t and analyzing it to death. The repercussions were going to shatter me.

Eventually, we showered and crawled into bed. I was determined to keep to my side and not seek all that needy comfort bullshit only a desperate, insecure man would want. River was one step ahead and tugged me closer, encouraging me to snuggle against him.

I was almost asleep when he whispered, “You’re fucking with my head, Doc.”

“Then we’re even. You’re messing with mine too.”

He chuckled and fell asleep not long after that. Meanwhile, I spent over two hours processing and picking apart the meaning behind those few simple words.

* * *

We’d driven to a remote, lower-income part of the city. It was humid and overcast with no moon or stars overhead. The streetlights in the ratty neighborhood were spaced apart, shining dull puddles onto the ground at long intervals. A few lights were burnt out, leaving stretches of shadowy darkness in between.

Many of the businesses along the street were closed down and boarded up. For Rent signs hung askew on many walls, spray-painted over by kids. The few open businesses had bars over their front windows to reduce the risk of break-ins. A pair of shoddy motels were open, one across the street from the other. Neon flashing signs announced they offered pay-by-the-hour rooms, which I supposed were ideal considering the type of people who occupied the streets in and around the area.

It was midnight.

“Pull over there.” River indicated. “In front of the liquor store.”

“I don’t think there’s parking on the street.”

“Then leave the engine running, and you aren’t technically breaking the law.”

I did as he instructed, shaking my head. “Fine. Because illegally parking when we’re trying hard to avoid the police is what we should do.”

“You’re still testy. I thought you’d be more chill after a good orgasm.”

“I have every right to be testy. I’m nervous we’re going to end up in prison. Why are we stopping here?”

“I think we should keep our distance for a few minutes. Observe.”

Two blocks down, near the main intersection, two small groups of people had gathered. From where we sat, it was hard to tell if they were working women or just people hanging out. Since there was no bar nearby and not a whole lot else of interest, it was a good bet they were there for a specific reason.

We watched them for a few minutes, although I still didn’t know what we were waiting for.

“Where did the obsession with feet come from?”

I glared at River before focusing on the people down the street. “I don’t know. I just like them. They’re sexy. They turn me on.” My insides turned greasy. “Why? Does it gross you out? You think I’m a freak, don’t you?”

Why not? Everyone else did.

River laughed. “No. You’re not a freak. I’ve just never run into someone with a foot fetish before. Do you, like, wanna rub your dick on my toes and come on them or something?”

I pressed my lips together, refusing to answer, because yes, that sounded incredibly hot, and he would probably laugh at me.

“Then you could lick your cum off my toes. Kinky, right?” He chuckled.

I gnawed my lip, remembering how he’d let me have my fun before we’d gotten to the main event earlier. “Did you hate it? When I sucked them?”

River’s hand landed on the back of my neck. He played with the ends of my curls. “No. I didn’t hate it. It’s actually kind of erotic in a way, but I have to fight past the ticklishness. And, in case you found that little scenario I painted sexy, I’d let you do it.”

My skin warmed, and I fidgeted, unsure how to respond. It was refreshing not to be admonished for something I liked, to be encouraged to take it further. I leaned into River’s touch when he scratched the base of my skull. It was good. Nice.

Dangerous.

I was slipping past that line again and needed to pull back and get my expectations in check.

“Why don’t we take a walk and see if anyone will talk to us?”

River dropped his hand. “Sure, but you should pull into the parking lot behind the store. There’s no parking on the street, you rebel. Do you want to draw the police’s attention?”

I gave him a deadpan expression, and he laughed, slapping my arm. “God, you’re cute.”

“I’m having a lot of regrets right now.” I drove into the empty parking lot behind the liquor store. “Remind me again why I’m helping you?”

“Because I’ve been wrongfully accused of a crime, and you want justice for the women who’ve died. Oh, and let’s not forget the magical dick.”

“Right.” I refused to stroke his ego.

We got out of the car and headed back to the street, aiming down the narrow sidewalk toward the intersection. The paving stones were cracked, weeds poking through where the cement pieces had lifted. Cigarette smoke drifted on the breeze. In an alley, two cats fought, their hisses and yowls bouncing around in the enclosed space. Otherwise, the night was quiet.

“I’ll talk to that bartender, Jimmy, when we’re done here.” I’d thought about it since River had brought it up.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do. Your theory is plausible. We can’t ignore it. I’m not sure I’ll get anywhere, but I’ll try. I’m a terrible liar and a worse actor, but I have an idea.”

“Okay. Cool.”

We didn’t speak again. River wore the ball cap and tugged it low, leaving his face shadowed. I doubted any of these people would be up to date on the local news, but River did what he could to hide his face.

There were two small groups gathered. Three young women in one, and a skinny young guy and another woman in the other. None of them were a day older than twenty-five. I’d have bet the house on it. In fact, a few of them looked barely legal.

River took the lead once the closest group spotted us and stared, wary eyes and fierce expressions.

“Evening, ladies.”

“We aren’t doing anything wrong. It ain’t against the law to stand on the sidewalk,” said a stick of a brunette wearing too much eye makeup and wafting cheap perfume. Her eyes were doe-like, and her lipstick was a little too pronounced.

River held up his hands, placating. “Not here to give you trouble. Just wondering if we could ask a few questions.”

The brunette consulted her friends—a curvy, big-breasted blonde and a mousy, homely thing who could have passed for fourteen. The breasty woman shrugged while the mousy girl—because that was what she was, a girl—pulled out a cigarette and lit up.

“Are you cops?”

“Nope. Not a fan either, believe me.”

“What do you want to know?”

Behind the group, the young twink and the fourth woman watched to see what was happening. I debated splitting from River and approaching them, but I got the sense if they had information they were willing to share, they’d make their way over to us.

“We were wondering if you knew anything about the two girls who were recently found dead in the area.”

Something flickered in the doe-eyed woman’s eyes. “Lexy and Grace?”

I cocked a brow. “Young, blonde, skinny? Had a bit of a drug problem?”

River placed a hand on my chest when the mousy girl squirmed and tugged her friend’s arm. It was a silent plea for me to shut up and let him do the talking. I wasn’t sure what I’d said wrong, but I shut my mouth.

“Did your friends fit that description?” River asked, tipping his head at me.

“Yes.”

“Did they… hang out on the street and chat with you guys sometimes?”

Doe-eyes pressed her painted lips together. “Maybe.”

“Look. We’re trying to get to the bottom of this. We think a very dangerous person is out there targeting young, blonde, hard-working girls like yourselves. I’m not here to get you in trouble. Anything you know might help.”

“I thought you weren’t cops,” Mousy said. Even her voice sounded like a child’s.

“We’re not. The cops aren’t investigating their deaths. We’re private investigators, and we think things are suspicious. We want to get to the bottom of this.”

I almost choked on my spit. The lie rolled off River’s tongue with ease.

“They say these girls were drug addicts and OD’d,” he continued. “What can you tell me about that?”

The curvy woman stepped forward. She was blonde and recognized herself as a target if the terror behind her eyes said anything. “They didn’t OD. Yeah, they used, but we’re smart about stuff like that.”

I bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t comment.

“The last time we saw them, they got picked up right here. They never came back,” the breasty blonde said.

I frowned. “They were picked up together?”

Blondie shook her head. “No. ’Bout a week or two apart.”

“Can you remember anything about the person they went with?” River asked. “Age, race, distinguishing features?”

“A name?” I added, which earned me odd looks all around. I decided River was right, and I should shut up.

“What was he driving? Was it the same person who picked them both up?”

Doe-eyes’s gaze skipped from River to me and back with the barrage of questions. “I don’t know any of that.”

“It was the same person. A black car,” the curvy blonde said.

“A lot of people drive black cars,” the redhead with the twink snapped. “That’s not helpful.”

“Shut up, bitch. I don’t hear you offering up any information.” Blondie turned back to River. “I know what I’m talking about. It was a black car. A nice one. Dollar signs stand out around here. That car reeked of money.”

“What kind of car was it?” River asked.

“A Bentley,” the twink said. “I remember the guy. He was flirty. I thought he was going to pick me up, but he told me another time. He wasn’t in that kind of mood.” The twink added air quotes. “I figured he was bi but wanted some pussy, so I backed off. Grace went with him. I don’t know who Lexy went with, but if she says it’s the same person, I’d believe it.”

River glanced back at me. “A black Bentley?”

“That’s a hell of a car. A couple hundred grand easy. Did you pick up a sugar daddy at the Tool Shack and didn’t know it?”

“I wish. No one that wealthy is picking up at the Tool Shack, believe me.”

I tried to impart without words that we were standing on a street corner talking to prostitutes, so the guy, whoever he was, was perfectly capable of lowering his standards for a quick fuck.

River seemed to catch the hint.

“Can you remember anything about him?” River asked the twink.

The twink wandered over, stole the cigarette from Mousy, and took a drag. He was skinny, underfed, but not drug-addict thin. His hair was light brown, shiny and clean, which told me he either hadn’t been on the street long or he took better care of himself. He wore the smallest pair of boy shorts known to mankind, and they left nothing to the imagination. His tank top exposed his midriff and a pierced navel. His lips were plump and pouty.

“The guy was older. I don’t know. His face was in shadows inside the car. It was hard to tell. White guy. No accent. No beard, but he had scruff like he hadn’t shaved in a day or so.”

“How tall was he?”

“I don’t know, man. He didn’t get out of the car. Average weight. Not fat. Midlevel tone of voice. Nice looking. That’s all I got.” He took another drag before passing the cigarette back to the young girl.

“Dammit.” River tugged at the ball cap, adjusting it on his head. “Okay. Look, if any of you see this guy again, don’t go with him. None of you. I don’t care if he offers you a million fucking dollars. He’s dangerous.”

The comment earned River a few eye rolls. I hoped they listened.

We wandered back to the car no further ahead.

“How many people in this city drive a Bentley?” River asked as we rounded the corner of the liquor store to the parking lot.

“No idea. How many people could afford to?”

“So, all we’ve learned was the person is possibly bi, well-off, and drives a fancy car. We’ve got shit. I’m going to be a fugitive for the rest of my life.”

At the car, we got in and sat, mulling over the lack of information. Another dead end. “The boy said he was older, so—”

“Right. That’s another tick against this being an old hookup. I don’t fuck older guys. Not my type.” River paused, realizing what he’d said. “Correction, you’re the first older guy I’ve ever messed around with, but—”

“Stop talking.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I don’t need to hear your long list of reasons why you normally avoid older men or your excuses why you broke your rules for me. I have feelings, and they bruise easily, so please, spare me.”

I jammed the key in the ignition and started the car.

“Cy—”

“Nope. Not doing this.” I cranked the radio and pulled onto the street. I had enough insecurities, thank you very much. I didn’t need River trying to fix an old, moldy, wrinkly cake by covering it with fancy icing and bullshit.

He turned the music down. “It wasn’t a dig at you. It was a fact. You truly are the first older guy I’ve picked up, and—”

“Please stop defending yourself. I don’t care why you decided to break your rule for one weekend. Let it go.”

Lies. Of course I cared. I cared a whole lot. Why had River chosen me that night? The bar had been packed with all kinds of younger, hotter choices. Not only was River’s preference for guys his age a tick against us solving this case, but it was a personal tick against me. Not that I was fantasizing about River and I being a couple again. I wasn’t. I knew better.

Then, in River’s voice, I heard, Oh, I know this one too. What are, lies Cyrus tells himself, Alex? That is correct, Alex Trebek, the traitor—god rest his soul—and game show host responded.

“I hate you both,” I blurted out loud for no reason at all.

River threw his hands up in the air and laughed. “I swear I’m going to wrap you in bubble wrap so my words stop hurting you.”

“Shut up.”

“What happened to the polite and professional doctor from the hospital?”

“He’s gone. He was manipulated by a patient and forced to do things against his will.”

“Forced?”

“Yes. The patient charmed him with his come-fuck-me eyes and magical dick until the doctor had no choice but to break his oath and say yes, I will do anything you desire.”

I tried really, really hard to hold onto my pissed-off expression, but River hooted, tossing his head back as he clutched his stomach. “Oh, that’s beautiful. I want that written on a plaque and framed.”

A snort escaped me before I could stop it. In the end, we were both laughing, and I was in jeopardy of driving off the road.

It was after one when I found a free parking spot on the road a block from the Tool Shack. I hadn’t been back since the night I met River, deciding one-night stands weren’t for me and that I was never going to find the love of my life at a gay bar.

“You sure you’re okay doing this?”

“I have to. What does Jimmy look like?”

“Bald. Built. Tattoos. You can’t miss him. He practically runs the place.”

“So, I’m seeking potentially married men. Men who might be older and drive a Bentley—” I shifted to face River. “Not that I want to reboot this conversation, but what does older mean anyhow? We didn’t ask. That twink was nineteen or twenty. Older to him could be your age or mine or some guy in his sixties. That’s broad.”

River shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m guessing not twenties. Anything older than that might qualify.”

“Again, that’s broad.”

“Do you want to go back and ask him?”

“No. Not really.”

“Then it will have to be broad. Thirty plus.”

“All right. Fine. Hang tight and stay low. I’ll be back.”

Before I could get out of the car, River rested his hand on my thigh. I paused at the touch, my body going still, my blood warming.

“You’ve got this, Cy.” He offered a soft smile and leaned across the middle console, pressing a tender kiss to my lips. “And don’t go picking up all the cute boys in there. I might get jealous.”

I studied his face, but I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or serious.

The Tool Shack was the same as I remembered. Pulsing lights overhead kept time with the steady bass beat of the music. The dance floor was filled with hot young guys, grinding and dancing, some with their shirts off and tongues lodged down a partner’s throat. The ripe vibe of sex hung in the air.

It was hot despite the air conditioning. The crush of bodies wafted a confusing mixture of sweat, cologne, and cheap body spray. Hints of cigarette smoke clung to some people’s clothing, and the rich undertones of beer couldn’t be missed.

For a minute, I stayed by the door, dragged back in time to that night in May when I’d decided to take a risk and had gone to the bar by myself. My first venture out after well over a year as a single man. I’d been achingly lonely and in need of companionship. I’d driven to London from St. Catherines to break out of my introverted bubble and live a little.

When I’d entered the Tool Shack, I’d almost left immediately. The crowd had been so young, and I’d felt like an old man, unsure how to fit in. One drink, I’d told myself. If I didn’t feel more comfortable, then I would leave. River had sidled up beside me at the bar, and it was game over. We’d had a few drinks and talked. Before I knew what was happening, I had agreed to go back to his apartment.

I’d spent the entire weekend in London, three nights in his bed, refusing to head home until Monday rolled around because the sex had been phenomenal, and I was convinced we had something special brewing. There had been all kinds of little moment between the sex too that had tricked me into thinking we had a connection. I was halfway in love with him before the weekend was over. The buzz of it had gone to my head. The crash had hurt more than it should have. I was a stupid, stupid man sometimes.

“Hey, hot stuff. Can I buy you a drink?”

I blinked back to the present. A guy not much older than the twink we’d met less than an hour ago stood in front of me, nibbling his lower lip and swaying to the music. His green eyes sparkled with mischief. He had a tight little body in his fitted clothes. I had no doubt he’d pegged me for some daddy figure, and I didn’t have the time or energy to explain how many layers of wrong he was.

“Um, thank you, but I’m just here to chat with Jimmy.” I glanced behind the kid, scanning the bar, looking for the man in question. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“If you change your mind…” the kid called after me.

I didn’t catch the rest of the sentence. The crowd moved between us, and the noise washed it out. At the bar, I found Jimmy. He was busy filling orders at the far end, chatting with a few customers, a bright, engaging smile plastered on his face. He was exactly as River had described. Big, burly, and bald with tattoos covering his bare arms and neck.

Jimmy was observant and performed many scans of the crowd while carrying on conversations and fixing drinks. The whole time he worked, he was aware of who was nearby, waiting for fresh drinks. When he caught my eye, although it was brief, I knew he would shift my way the moment he could.

“What can I get for you?” he asked, rapping his knuckles on the bar top once he’d made his way to my end of the bar.

“G&T.” I slid him a bill while he made quick work of getting my drink.

It was busy, and I knew he wouldn’t have a huge window of time to chat, so when he delivered the drink, I snagged him while I could. “I have a question for you. Do you have a second?”

Jimmy eyed me up and down before his attention skipped around the room. “Make it fast, bud. FYI, I don’t hook up with customers, so if that’s where you’re going with this, save your breath. I’m happily married.”

That was a perfect lead-in, so I used it.

“Actually, I was curious if any straight married men wander in here? You know, maybe to see what they’re missing? Maybe they’re… questioning.” I ran my tongue along my lips and aimed to look bashful and a shade uncomfortable—which wasn’t hard since it was my default setting.

Jimmy scanned my left hand, likely checking for a ring, before focusing on my face. He leaned closer, elbows on the bar. “Listen, man. It happens more than you think. You aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last. I don’t judge. Not my place.”

I chuckled and sipped my drink. “Not me. I’m asking for a friend.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Sure. Whatever.”

I touched his arm before he could push away from the bar. “I’m serious.” Now came the bullshit lies. All I could do was hope Jimmy was gullible enough to fall for it. “Look, I have reason to believe my sister’s husband might be… exploring the scene. Testing new waters. You know what I mean? She asked me to check it out. If he’s being unfaithful, she has a right to know. I heard rumors he might have cruised this place a time or two. Can you tell me if he’s been in here?”

Jimmy studied my face for a long time. It was unnerving. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. When he nodded for me to go on, I did.

“He probably gave a phony name, so that won’t help. He’s about my age. He’s loaded. Flaunts his money. Drives a Bentley. White guy. Dark hair. Average weight.” I stopped talking. Sadly, that was the extent of my information.

Jimmy was already shaking his head. “That’s way too vague, man.”

At that moment, a second bartender cruised through the crowd with a tray above his head and slid behind the bar. Jimmy noted his arrival. “You could ask Chase. He might know. Hey, Chase,” he called out above the loud music.

Chase glanced around. When Jimmy waved a hand, encouraging him to join us, Chase noticed me for the first time. He didn’t take his eyes off me as he approached. He set his tray on the bar top and cocked his head to the side.

Jimmy slapped him on the shoulder. “Chase, maybe you can help this guy out. He has a few questions.” To me, Jimmy said, “Good luck, man. I gotta work.” Then he wandered to the other end of the bar, leaving us alone.

Chase didn’t miss a beat. He pointed a finger at me and said, “Aren’t you that psychiatrist? Dr. Cyrus Irvine? The one who was working with the guy who busted out of the mental institute? It’s totally you, isn’t it?”

My blood turned to ice. The air in my lungs congealed, and I couldn’t breathe.

Before I could respond, Chase went looking for something under the bar. “Hang on. I was told you might show up asking questions.”