Page 15 of Smokey's Distraction
“Toast, right?” Maddie looked up and smiled.
“Yeah.”
“I know Shadow, Axe, Rock, Rags, and Jerry like English muffins.”
The corner of Smokey’s mouth turned up. “Do we come in here that often?”
“You do.” She patted his hand, then tucked her pen and pad into one of the pockets of her apron. “I’ll get your order in,” she said before scurrying away.
Smokey brought the cup to his lips and briefly inhaled the fresh and strong aroma of roasted beans before taking a sip. The coffee was so hot it smoked, and he relished the warmth as it slid down his throat. A movement by the cashier register caught his eye, and he put the cup down and stared at the back of a woman with long raven hair. For a split second he held his breath, then exhaled when his gaze skimmed over the slender woman.Nope, that’s not her.The woman leaning against the cashier’s stand didn’t have curves that wouldn’t quit, long legs, and a round ass that he wanted to sink his teeth into.
As if sensing Smokey’s scrutiny, the woman glanced over her shoulder at him, and he quickly looked away and brought the coffee mug to his lips.Not even close.Images from last night whenshe’dchecked him out withthose captivating blue eyes—bright and shimmering like a lake on a cloudless day—flashed through his mind. He chuckled softly as he recalled the defiant look in those amazing orbs.Fuck … I would’ve loved to have hooked up with her last night. I still can’t believe she turned me down. Something mustn’t be right with the chick.
“Here you go,” Maddie said as she put the plate in front of him. “I brought you some hot sauce and ketchup. Can I get you anything else?”
Smokey shook his head. “You thought of everything—that’s why you’re our favorite.” He winked at the waitress, and as she laughed, a faint blush of pink washed over her cheeks.
“You’re such a charmer,” Maddie said before turning away.
Smokey was halfway through his meal when he saw someone approaching him from the corner of his eye. He put down his fork and turned his head, noticing it was Ryan. A rock hard knot formed in the pit of Smokey’s stomach as he took in his younger brother’s appearance: sunken cheeks, glassy eyes, and disheveled hair. Even from where he sat, Smokey could smell the alcohol on Ryan’s breath. Smokey shifted his gaze from his alcoholic brother to the dour face of his mother who stood behind Ryan.
“How’ve you been?” Ryan said as he flung out his arms.
“Good.” Smokey leaned back a bit as his brother lowered his arms and looked down at the ground. “You?”
Ryan raised his head and a huge smile spread across his face, deepening the lines around his mouth. “Just great. Real great. I can’t believe I ran into you here. Isn’t this just great, Mom?” He moved to the side and gripped their mother’s arm. “Isn’t it great … real great that we bumped into Daniel?”
“It’s Smokey—Daniel died a long time ago,” he said.
Ryan cupped his hand across his mouth and bobbed his head up and down. “Right, I’m sorry—I should remember that. Sorry, dude. I’m real sorry. I should—”
“Can it, okay?” Ryan only remembered Smokey’s name when he was sober, and from the stench of booze on his breath and the way he was acting, Smokey knew he was drunk.
“Okay … yeah … okay.” Ryan fumbled with the zipper on his down jacket.
Smokey averted his gaze from his brother to their mother. She looked older and more bitter than she had the last time he’d seen her. It had been over a year since he’d laid eyes on her. Each time he’d gone over to the house he’d built for her and Ryan, she’d disappear into her bedroom and refuse to come out and talk with him.
“How’re you doing, Mom?” he asked.
Tonya Harty’s black eyes squinted. “Fine.” She tugged the sleeve of Ryan’s jacket. “We have to get a table. Come on.” The loose strands from her ponytail swept across the nape of her neck as she spun around and marched toward the front of the diner without a backward glance.
“She never fuckin’ changes, does she?” Smokey said.
Ryan shrugged. “You know how she is.”
He wiped the corners of his mouth with his fingers as he glanced at his mother’s retreating back. “Yeah, I do. She checked out on us when we were kids. Is she eating enough? She looks too skinny.”
“She eats.” Ryan turned his head toward the front of the diner. “I better get going—she can be a real bitch.”
Smokey nodded. “With everyone except Dad. She never raised her voice to him even when he was beating the shit outta us. Fuckin’ amazing.”
Ryan unzipped his jacket, then zipped it up again. “She still cries for him even though it’s been”—he looked up at the ceiling while pulling the zipper back down on his coat— “uh … five years?”
“Seven years since the old man croaked. If you keep drinking, you’re gonna be joining him in a few more years.”
Ryan cleared his throat. “I gotta go. Maybe we can go out for a drink sometime.” He pulled off his coat. “Or dinner,” he hastily added.
“Yeah,” Smokey said before picking up his fork again.
