Page 50 of Sportsball is for Lovers

But after a moment, he says, “Sure,” sounding like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Who doesn’t like shawarma?

There are footsteps behind me as my assistant makes his way down the hallway.

“Hey, Jare,” Yoni says upon seeing his brother. “Oh, you found my lunchbox. Thanks. I was wondering where that went.”

“You left it on the kitchen counter,” he reports.

“Thanks for bringing it by.”

The three of us stand there awkwardly for a beat.

“Okay, I need food before I murder someone for fun,” I announce.

Yoni sighs. “Babe, you can’t say things like that out loud.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t write murder books. You write sexy books.”

I shrug. “A little murder between friends can totally be an aphrodisiac.”

Jared mutters something under his breath.

But he doesn’t run for the hills at my offbeat sense of humor. Maybe there’s promise there after all.

In the shop downstairs, Mo waves us to a table and scurries off to help the rest of the hungry customers in line.

It’s a little early for the lunch rush, but today the place is packed. Good. I’m happy for him. Taking over his grandfather’s shop wasn’t in his plans, especially after he was disowned for marrying a man, so finding out he inherited the shop last year was definitely a surprise.

“What’s good here?” Jared asks awkwardly as he lifts a sticky menu.

“You’d like the falafel,” Yoni reports. “We get the chicken shawarma.”

“No meat shawarma?” Jared teases. Typically, the “beef” shawarma is layered with both beef and lamb.

Yoni’s cheeks go pink. “Fuck off,” he mutters.

“Yo-yo used to be obsessed with Shari Lewis,” he explains.

It takes me a second to place the reference. “Lamb Chop the puppet.”

Jared finger-guns at me. It shouldn’t be so charming, but I find his awkwardness cute.

“Right. He refused to eat lamb ever since. And considering that’s our mother’s favorite meal…” He grins at his brother. “I’ve always appreciated how sensitive he is. He gets a lot of shit for it in the family, but I’ve never doubted his heart.”

Yoni blushes. “Fuck off,” he says again. But he’s wearing a pleased smile. He likes the praise.

Mo comes by to take our orders. Sure enough, Jared orders the falafel wrap, Yoni gets the chicken shawarma bowl, and I get my usual chicken shawarma fries plate. It’s a pile of protein, veggies, pickles, and tabouli over thick-cut fries, all drizzled with zhoug, tzatziki, and hummus to dip.

My stomach grumbles loud enough for both men to hear. Yoni rolls his eyes, and Jared smirks at me.

“Did you take your meds?” My assistant asks.

“Um… I don’t remember.”

He sighs, shakes his head. “I can’t with you.” He turns to his brother. “Your numbers are good?”

Jared pulls out his phone, swiping on the screen and then showing it to his brother. “I need to eat something. Good thing we just ordered.”