Dallas looked at him sharply. "Whatever you think you know, you don't." He didn't want to talk about it, tiptoe around it, or even fucking think about it. Not now. Not yet.
Liam held up his hands, signaling surrender. "No need to bite my head off, man. I was just wondering about her."
"Yeah, well here's a suggestion. Don't."
"What bug crawled up your ass?"
"This conversation is finished, Foster."
Liam cocked his head. "Yes, sir, Mr. Sykes."
He waited a moment, just studying Dallas, then he bent to the bag, pulled out a small box wrapped in plain brown paper, and passed it to him. "For Crowley's party on Friday. Three bugs. Office. Foyer. Living room or the bedroom. Bedroom's better, obviously, but harder to pull off. That's it. Nothing you haven't done a dozen times before."
Dallas nodded, then set the package aside. For a second, he hesitated, not wanting to be crossways with his friend. But all he said was, "Thanks. I'll call you when they're set."
"Then I guess we're good to go." Liam hoisted the bag back onto his shoulder. "I'll see you at the party tomorrow, D."
And then he walked to the door and headed outside. And Liam Foster, one of Dallas's closest friends in the world, didn't once look back.
The last strains of "Happy Birthday to You" are buried under the cacophony of the entire family laughing and whistling and generally cheering Poppy on into the next century of his life.
Almost the entire family, anyway. Even Liam and Archie and Mrs. Foster have joined in the festivities.
Dallas, however, is conspicuously absent.
As the clapping fades, Poppy grins at all of us--toothless because he spit his dentures into the sand this morning and Becca says they're still disinfecting--and then holds out his arms so that we can each come in close for a big birthday hug.
I go after my mom, and as he hugs me tight he thanks me for the giant book of old Times crossword puzzles. "I figured after all this time it would be like doing them for the first time," I tell him.
He taps my nose. "And that's why you're such a smart girl."
I step away so that my great-uncle can move in, and take a look around, partly so I can decide who to visit with next, but mostly because I'm looking for Dallas. He, however, is nowhere to be seen.
We're on the patio by the pretty, grotto-style pool, with Poppy in the place of honor at the big outdoor dinner table. My mom has wandered off toward the fire pit and Liam is chatting with his mother. I want to talk to him, but I know they spend precious little time together these days, so I head over to join my mom, since I don't see her nearly enough, either.
"Hey, sweetheart." She smiles at me and holds out her hand. "Did you have a relaxing time on the beach yesterday?" She pokes my shoulder, testing for sunburn. "You wore sunscreen, at least."
"Always." My fair-skinned mom is what they sometimes call a Georgia peach, and she's drilled the need for sunscreen into my head since birth.
"Were you able to chat with Dallas at all?"
I frown. "What?"
"Yesterday, when Daddy and I bumped into you. You said he was busy on a call."
"Oh. Right." I shrug and hope that my guilty expression isn't visible to Mom-radar. "To be honest, I still really want to talk to him about some stuff. Do you know where he is?"
"He joined Poppy for breakfast--gave him an amazing book of old Times crosswords," she adds with a small smile. "You two always did think alike."
"Breakfast? Why? Where is he now?"
"Back in New York handling some sort of problem at work," she says. What I hear is, He wanted to get away from you.
"Oh. Well, I guess I'll just have to catch him in the city." I try to keep my voice light. As if this is no big deal. As if Dallas and I don't have huge things to talk about.
"So does the fact that you went to his bungalow and are planning to see him in the city mean that things are getting easier for you two?"
And isn't that a loaded question?