Page 11 of Flint
“Silver,” he responds in a flat tone.
“You know, everyone likes me except you,” she says, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, teasing him with a glimpse of her cleavage. “What’s that about?”
He glances away. “I don’t like anyone.”
“That’s sad. You should work on that.”
He doesn’t respond to her lightly thrown barb.
Instead, he says, “Leave, Silver. I don’t want you around Jules.”
She looks like she wants to argue the point but thinks better of it.
His eyes move over me, and for a second, I swear that he’s seeing me as a grown-up woman for the first time in his life. There is a flicker of interest. Maybe the realization that I am not just Tommy’s little sister but a person who exists independently in the world.
“Tommy’s gonna be at the gate for the next four hours or so.”
“Yeah, he told me that already,” I tell him.
“Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m good.”
An argument breaks out at one of the pool tables over what kind of motorcycle engine one of them is putting on their bike. The disagreement is fast and furious, leading them both to throw down their pool sticks on the table and stalk off in different directions.
Flint just shrugs and says, “Cool, a table just opened up. Do you play pool?”
I shrug with one shoulder. “I’ve played before. Tommy and I used to play at the Drunken Barnacle, before it shut down.”
“That was fuckin’ eons ago,” he says. “The Drunken Barnacle was my favorite bar.”
“Yeah, it’s a shame. I loved going there because of all the tanks of exotic fish they had on display.”
Stabbing one finger in my direction, he says, “I blame those fuckin’ shithead customers who were pouring their leftover drinks into the fish tanks.”
My eyes fly open. “What? This is the first I’ve heard of alcohol in the fish tanks.”
His hand drops down to his side. “A bunch of dead fish in an eating establishment was considered a public health emergency. The Health Department called it grossly unsanitary and shut them right down.”
Hearing that makes me sad. “I thought the old guy just up and retired one day.”
“Moose retire? Not fuckin’ likely. That bar was his whole life.”
Flint is so angsty over the Drunken Barnacle, so I try to change the subject back to shooting pool. “So, you were asking me to shoot pool with you, right?”
“Yeah, are you up for a game or two?”
“Absolutely, what better way to spend a lazy Sunday than shooting pool with a hot, tatted-up biker.”
He chuckles. “Slow your roll. Tommy has warned everyone not to flirt with his little sister and I ain’t about to piss off my best friend over a little harmless flirting.”
I freeze. “My brother what?”
The expression on Flint’s face shifts into regret really fast. “It’s not like that. Not flirting with your best friend’s younger sister should have been encoded into law long ago. The fact that it hasn’t just goes to prove the world’s not fair.”
I don’t argue. Instead, I shoot him a disparaging look, driving home how much I don’t care for the two of them decidingwhat’s best for me. Both of them are assholes in my book for even discussing something like that.
“Come on, let’s grab that pool table before someone else does.”
