Friends of His?

We kept the charade going on for a while. Rita would pour us coffee, and we'd pretend we'd have no idea what she was talking about when she asked how she knew us. Around the fiftieth cup she told us to "cut the shit." Both Olivia and I pretended to be offended at such foul language in a family restaurant. "Can it. Who are you two?" "We're nobody." I reply. "Then why are two nobodies interested in me?" "I'm not really sure." Olivia says.  "Do you know a man named Pete?" I ask, quickly. Rita's expression slightly relaxes. "I know a few." "Do you know one that owns a bait shop?" Rita's eyes narrow. "I know the guy. You his friends?" "We barely know him." Olivia says.  "Good. Because I'd hate it if you were friends with that guy." Rita walks away. "She could have been a little bit more elaborate. I want to know what happened." I tell Olivia.  Olivia leans in. "I think we should go." "Yeah, I guess you're right. We been here long enough."