Page 68 of Bent, Not Broken

“Hi,” Greg said as he snapped his attention to Evan. He tried to shove his hand back into his pocket, but Evan snagged his wrist. Greg, dressed today in the most obnoxious diamond-patterned oxford shirt I’d ever seen, and skinny jeans that wouldn’t have looked good on anyone the way they hung on him, jerked his arm back. Evan held on for dear life as he reached out with both hands, and I saw the frustration settle into his stance.

“Oh,” the kid said, and they got knocked against the side of the building by Greg’s flailing before they could scramble away from the fray. Groaning, I saw what was going on. Evan wanted what I already knew would be a golden, pearly pink pill out of Greg’s possession; however, Evan was effectively single-handed here, the same way he had been playing racquetball. He still couldn’t raise that hurt arm, and his grip wasn’t full strength. I rushed over, sweat sticking my shirt to my back and front, and threw myself between them. For a split second, Greg seemed happy to see me.

When I clamped one of my hands on his arm to steady him and used the other to pry his fingers open, Greg yelled, “What the fuck, someone help!”

Pills gleamed against his palm, then went flying to the ground. “Get those,” Evan said. “We can’t let anyone find them.”

“Two? You would have fucking killed that kid. That was a horrible trip,” I yelled into Greg’s startled face. “Evan.” I yelped as Evan grabbed Greg’s shirt with his bad hand and jolted us both closer to him. “What are you doing? You’re not a cop anymore.”

Evan laughed and caught my eye as he held on to Greg like he was at a rodeo. “You’re right.

Thanks for the reminder.” Evan let go of Greg, all at once, and Greg went flying, sputtering and cursing, onto his ass.

Evan took a step forward, leaned down, and punched Greg squarely across the jaw. My heart jerked and then sped up, and I covered my mouth with a hand, not sure if I wanted to laugh or groan.

Greg smacked the back of his head against the sidewalk and lay there stunned for a second. Just then, a woman came stomping out of the front door of Grounds and Gears, her leather riding boots leading the way. She stood about an inch taller than me and had beautiful flame-red hair and lipstick to match, along with black leather pants and a black tank that highlighted every curve she had.

“Sorry,” Evan started with a wince, and she stalked over. “But—”

“Oh, I know what’s up. This creep has been coming in to hit on Emmy all week. They told me what was going on.” She walked over, leaned down, and threw her whole body into a solid kick to Greg’s stomach. The riding boots she had on looked particularly unforgiving. “You piece of trash. You think you’re going to come in here and pull this shit?”

“I’ll get a lawyer.” Greg coughed and sucked air. “I’m a famous artist in this city.”

Evan shot me a look and I laughed.

“I’m a lawyer,” I said, “and I represent the worst of the worst, buddy. I’ll tell everyone worth a red cent in town to stay the fuck away from you.”

Greg gaped at me and slid a few feet away from us on his ass, apparently not able to get his legs under him yet.

The woman leaned in and smiled. “And I’ll just put a fuckin’ bullet in your head.”

Greg whimpered, turned, and flopped onto his belly, and then scrambled away and took off running down the sidewalk. The woman’s amused guffaw carried after him.

“Name’s Red,” she said, spinning around toward us. She ruffled her hands through her hair and shook her head so the bright strands cascaded over her shoulders. “Let me buy you boys a drink. You’re representing the Harlots now, right?” She eyed me intensely. “Saw you with Barbie the other day.”

“Yes, Ms. Red.” I perked up and smiled at her.

Emmy came to lean in the doorway. They still held the black tray in front of them like a shield. “Thank you. And your boyfriend too. That guy’s terrible, and I couldn’t get him to back off.”

“I’m not his boyfriend.”

“Oh, you’re not?” Emmy stood straight and stared up at Evan with eyes that practically sparkled in the sunshine. I covered my mouth and tried not to laugh. “I’m enby too. What do you call yourself, then. His partner?”

“He calls himself my person,” I said with an aborted giggle I didn’t quite cover with a cough.

Evan sputtered and flushed, Red laughed, and together we all went into Grounds and Gears. Red stopped to pick up the pills from the sidewalk near the door.

“These look too much like candy,” she said with a sigh. “Damn.”

“Don’t take them. He got me once, and they’re not a great time.”

She pursed her lips. “He did, did he?” I swore I heard her muttering something about visiting an art gallery but figured it would be better to pretend to be temporarily deaf.

“This doesn’t count as my date,” I informed Evan cheerfully when we arrived at the counter. Emmy nearly killed themself in their rush to get to the other side and start personally making us drinks. They knocked their hip off the corner of the counter and hissed, rubbing it when they skidded to a stop in front of the espresso machine.

Evan sighed, shook his head, and held his hand out for me. I practically floated on the sweet cloud of coffee fumes and the warmth of the kiss he laid on my lips. Emmy let out a wistful little sigh that had me snickering again, and all in all, this wasn’t the worst time I’d ever had with Evan.

Epilogue