“Morning, guys,” Carter muttered, and headed for the door.
He was almost there when a voice behind him shouted, “Hey, asshole!” That could have been directed at anyone, and was probably directed at Tenny, so he kept going. But then: “Hey, I’m talking to you, preppy-ass motherfucker!”
Okay, that was definitely him.
He turned – in time to see Boomer rushing at him, face set in a snarl. His first instinct was to throw his hot coffee at his attacker, and was a little startled by the violence of that thought. Instead, he dodged the rush, side-stepped Boomer’s swipe, and Boomer ran into the corner of the wall, only just getting his hands up in time to keep from cracking his nose against the sheetrock.
The thing about Boomer was…he was kind of a doofus. “He’s a dumbass,” Ghost had said, bluntly. But Carter saw it more as a case of Boomer being, despite his tumultuous upbringing, a bright-side sort of guy. There was an innocence there that most of them found endearing.
It was easy to forget, then, that he was abigguy. His dad was all long and lean, with the silky, good kind of hair Carter was convinced he dyed to keep it lion’s mane gold. Boomer, though, was all beef. The sleeves of his t-shirt threatened to rip as he pushed off the wall and turned his wrath on Carter for a second time.
“Fuckingasshole!”
Carter held up his free hand in a placating gesture. “Okay. Hold on. Why am I an asshole?”
“Oh, Boom, don’t!” Chanel called from the kitchen.
Ah. So she’d told him.
“You–” Boomer started, reaching toward him.
Carter stepped behind a chair. “Look, I didn’t–”
“You can’t go around fucking other people’s old ladies!”
Carter put another chair between them, but Boomer kept coming, brushing them aside. “Jazz invited her, and it wasn’t like–”
“Asshole!”
“Okay, yeah, you said that.” Something bumped against the backs of his legs; a fast glance revealed the coffee table. They’d backed all the way across the common room. Tenny and Reese were staring at him, now, instead of the TV. “A little help?” he hissed.
Reese said nothing.
Tenny said, “Throw the coffee in his face.”
“Thanks. Boomer, listen–”
“Chanel’s my woman, and you have no right…” Boomer’s big hand was coming at his face, now, maybe his throat, and, shit, he really was going to have to throw the coffee, wasn’t he?
“Boomer!” Chanel snapped, and Boomer froze. Turned toward her as she stalked toward them, face a thunderhead, heels rapping like gunshots on the floorboards. “What in the hell are you doing?” Carter had never heard her raise her voice, or be anything but solicitous with everyone.
All the anger drained off Boomer’s face, and he looked helpless as a child. “I don’t…but you…and he…”
She folded her arms. “He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to. Jazz invited me over, and I wanted to go, and I went. It’s simple as that.”
Boomer swallowed with an audible gulp. “But you’re–”
“Don’t saymy woman. Don’t you dare. Because I’m not.”
“But–”
“Do you see a ring on this hand?” She lifted it for inspection, manicured fingers wiggling. “Have you ever even asked me out on a date? I like you, Boom, and we have a good time, but until you’ve got the balls to tell me you want us to be exclusive, I’m gonna do what I damn well please. Understand?”
Good for her, Carter thought, relaxing a fraction.
A mistake, it turned out. Boomer gaped at her a moment, opened and closed his mouth a few times, soundlessly, out of arguments. The sharp turn of his head was Carter’s only warning, and then one of his meaty fists was coming right at Carter’s face.
Oh shit, he had time to think, and then everything went black.
