Page 14 of Changing Lanes
Ah, but the fisherman realizes he’s now the one being reeled in and he goes quiet. There’s a story there. A bad one, I’m guessing. His breathing has thinned and he’s looking out the driver’s side window, ignoring me and my question.
After a long pause, he surprises me by saying, “We’re not big on family functions.” He continues in a quiet, measured tone. “We, uh, never really felt like celebrating.”
His pained eyes touch on mine for a split second, making a lump form in my throat.
“I get it.” More than he could ever know.
And even though I feel like he just started talking to me, it’s time to lighten the mood before I reveal too much, too soon.
“I’ll probably go out to my favorite bar anyway.”
Beckett’s quirked eyebrow makes me laugh.
“What? I have an ID I’ve been using for a couple years.”
“And you think suddenly showing up there with a real one on your real twenty-first birthday won’t raise any flags?”
“Let me worry about that,” I say, tipping one side of my mouth up.
The truth is I’ve got a couple bars I cycle through. Both have connections without connections. Well, except for the one with the bouncer I half-dated. I say half because while he insisted we were in a full-blown relationship, I was all about having a good time for a short time—a very short time. When he started watching me more than the door, I ended things completely; but he’s still struggling to accept that fact a bit—meaning, he saw the subject line but he’s avoiding reading the full memo. I don’t know how else to say that we are never getting back together, but he lets me into the bar without too much hassle, so I suck it up for the sake of blowing off thick-as-pea-soup steam.
We listen to music the rest of the drive until he pulls up next to my bike.
“I’ll have it running before you get off.”
Our eyes slam together at his words and he chokes a little to cover a laugh.
“I mean, I’ll fix your ride.”
His snicker is not lost on me, neither is his love of double meanings, so I fire back with some innuendo of my own, saying, “Oh, don’t worry about that, there’s no complaints in that department.” I wink at his now serious face. “But if you could take a look at my bike, I’d appreciate it.”
Snatching my bag off the floor, I hop out of his SUV, throwing over my shoulder, “thanks for the ride,” as a bonus for him to chew on.
I don’t look back. I don’t need to. The guy can kiss my ass and the only way that’s going to happen is if he sees it for himself, so I put a little more sway in my hips over to the employee entrance.
Unfortunately, the door swings open, cutting my exaggerated saunter short with a red-faced Vernon marching out and sticking his finger in my face.
“Whoa. What’s this?” I say as I step back, trying to knock his hand away.
Unfazed, he pushes into my personal space but I match every step he takes with two of my own until suddenly, a large arm shoots between us, halting Vernon where he stands.
“Can I help you?” Beckett cocks his head to the side in a patronizing way and turns so his back is shielding me.
Yeah, fuck that.
I advance forward to Beckett’s side to face off against Vernon…too? Why is Beckett here?
“Mind your business, boy. This has to do with her.”
“Vernon, what the hell are you talking about now?”
His finger makes another appearance but before I can block it again Beckett is there pushing into Vernon’s face. The shorter man sputters as the not-so-gentle giant presses on.
“She is my business.” My scoff can be heard from space but the two men facing off in front of me don’t seem to notice. “Keep that finger away from her unless you want me to break the fucking thing off for good.”
Beckett’s low voice raises the hairs on the back of my neck like spirits in a cemetery—awake with absolutely nothing to do besides make people uneasy.
This is getting out of control. Vernon is all talk and no walk. Him throwing fits is nothing new and I usually bat him away like the annoying gnat he is, but I do have to work with the guy.
