27
As I drove us north on I-17, Conor’s phone rang.
“’Ello? What? Now? I know I promised, but I’m busy at the moment.” He paused with a frustrated and annoyed expression on his face. “Oy! Not that kind of busy.” He blushed and glanced at me.
I mouthed, “Who is it?” He shook his head.
“Fine. I’ll be there in half an hour.” He hung up. “Sorry, love. I have an errand to run. I’ll need ya to drop me off at my place.”
“An errand? Who was that?”
He shook his head. “One of my mates needs my help moving a dresser.” Something about his voice was off.
“Oh really?” I asked, not bothering to hide my suspicions. “Which one of your mates?”
“Jody. Not even his dresser, really. Just some girl he’s shagging.”
“Jody, huh? Sounds like a woman’s name.”
“Stop it! He’s a bloke I know from work.”
“Yea
