Page 80 of Throwing Shade
19
Once Laurentand I settled our differences on which vehicle to take (mine—unless he planned to double Jude on his handlebars), the first part of the operation went off without a hitch.
Laurent had showered off the blood and lost that Lord of the Flies vibe, but he was still moving stiffly when he came into the kitchen.
His chocolate brown curls were damp. Regardless of whatever bathroom set-up Nav had, I pictured Laurent soaking in his outdoor copper tub, his head tipped back in relief, the hot water easing his tight muscles and steam curling up against the cool night, while the scent of cedar from the patio roof provided a relaxing balm.
His wash and nap hadn’t been that refreshing, because there was an exhaustion in his pinched features that looked like it ran bone-deep.
“Good morning, sunshine. Food’s up.” Nav placed a plate in front of Laurent, then returned to frying bacon.
The coffeemaker burbled loudly, the smell of the roasted beans perking me up.
“Good.” Laurent grabbed the plate, hovering impatiently beside Nav while he finished cooking.
I put down my toast and pretended to hold up a microphone. “And now we have Huff ’n’ Puff modeling from the fall collection of the House of Big Bad. The practical blood-hiding nature of the all-black ensemble receives a touch of whimsy with mismatched socks.”
Laurent finished loading up on pork products, glanced down at his one brown and one black foot and scowled. “Must you bust my balls?”
If I ate that much at a single sitting, my legs would no longer support me. Besides, I was too nervous to do more than nibble at a couple strips of bacon and a piece of toast.
“Yes, actually, I must bust them. I am contractually bound to do so. You should have read the fine—oh, shit!” Dropping the bacon, I ran outside and opened the trunk of my car. “Heeeeyy, buddy.”
“Really?” Emmett glared balefully up at me, a stalk of grass stuck to his ear and sand on his sweats. Guess I hadn’t vacuumed my trunk since last summer.
Laurent joined us, peering down at the golem. “Sorry about the leg, man.”
Emmett shrugged. “Shit happens. I’m Emmett.”
“Laurent.” They exchanged chin nods and Laurent got into the car.
What a relief that the bro club was cool with each other.
I rapped on the passenger window until Laurent rolled it down. “We can’t take him with us,” I said.
“Nav won’t care. Leave him here.”
“You could help, you know.”
Laurent doubled over. “Period cramps. Oooowwwww.”
“I hope you get fleas.”
Since I had to go to the trunk for Emmett, I also grabbed my gym bag. Might as well change into more comfortable clothes.
Nav was a sweetheart about taking in a one-legged golem. His only comment was, “Interesting choice of chaperone, Miri.”
“You’re sure this won’t scar Evani?”
“Nah. I’ll tell her he’s a robot.” Because that passed for normal around here?
Emmett shrugged and kept flipping through TV channels.
I examined my reflection in Nav’s bathroom mirror, relieved that the bruises on my neck had finally faded. Raking wet fingers through my hair, I secured it in a ponytail before putting on some deodorant and a swipe of lip gloss that was tossed in the bottom of my bag. After a moment’s consideration, I checked my ass in my yoga pants and my boobs in the green tank with a built-in bra worn under a cute V-neck hoodie. All in all, I looked hot enough to work out at the snooty gym that our firm paid for memberships at.
Good to go, I bade the guys farewell and got back into the car.
Laurent bitched about our first stop—a drive-through run—though that didn’t stop him from putting in an order for a mocha with a double shot of espresso and extra whip.
