Squeak of the vinyl booth as Jimmy sat up, his breath huffing in annoyance. “I didn’t even ask her out!”
Fox tapped the table, once, caught Tenny’s gaze, and nodded.
Tenny set down his latest sugar packet – fifteen empties littered the tabletop – and melted to his feet and down the aisle. Like Fox, he wasn’t wearing his cut.
“Multiple witnesses say you did,” Eden said, gravely. “And that you were terribly upset by it, and that, according to Nicole, you went to ‘get smashed,’ and started calling Allie names.”
“I didn’t – Nicole’s a lying bitch!”
The last word rang out through the muted late-afternoon ambiance of the restaurant. Conversations cut off. A passing server halted, and whipped a look over her shoulder toward the angry teen. Fox risked craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Jimmy’s face: beet red and pulsing with fury. Fury too high and hot to be caused by something as simple as getting rejected. Whatever was happening here, it went way beyond missing out on a date with a pretty girl, Fox felt sure.
Eden waited, silent; let it become a tableau; let patrons stare in open-mouthed shock until the silence became damning. Then, as if Jimmy’s outburst hadn’t happened, she said, “So there weren’t any Lean Dogs there?”
“Fuck no,” he hissed.
“What’s the truth here, Jimmy? Do you really think a roving band of bikers snatched your crush out of her car on her way home? Or are you just afraid that pretty young girls are more attracted to sexy bad boys than to mere children like you?”
Fox watched the words hit the boy like a slap, his head rearing back, the flush of anger bleeding out to white.
“Fuck you,” he hissed, and Axelle was already out of the booth and on her feet, giving him an avenue of escape – which he took like a shot.
The moment he was out the door, Eden twisted around to face Fox. “He’s involved,” she said, grimly.
“Oh, definitely.”
Now they just had to figure out how.
Nineteen
When Carter arrived at Bell Bar, he found the front door propped open, a contractor in a hard hat toting a big section of plywood inside. The clatter and hiss of tools greeted him as he followed the guy in, and he paused a moment to survey the progress.
The whole interior had been stripped down to the studs and replumbed. He noted the clean, white PVC and gleaming copper of new pipes; spools of new, plastic-coated wiring, all of it now up to code.
The bar itself was being salvaged, and it was draped now in paper and plastic to keep it safe. That was where Jazz stood, dressed down today in jeans and a light sweater, wearing a more sensible pair of wedge sneakers instead of her usual heels. She had plans of some sort unrolled on the bar top, gesturing to them and discussing with one of the workmen, the foreman, Carter guessed.
Jazz glanced up, spotted him, and beamed. “Hey!” Thankfully she left offbaby boyin front of all the contractors. “Come see! Ghost is letting me help with the design.”
He felt his brows go up as he crossed to the bar and joined her. “He is?”
“Yeah!” The excitement poured off of her, and he was helpless but to smile back.
He noted the foreman looking between them, reading the moment, then the man nodded and said, “I’m gonna go check on the stairs. Let me know what you decide about the shiplap.”
“Thanks, Todd.” Jazz sent him off with a little wave…and a subtle, but noticeable appreciative glance.
Carter snorted. “Oh, so bikers are out, and contractors are in?”
“What? No.” She looked scandalized – and she blushed. “A girl can look. I know you look.” She leaned in close and whispered, “Sometimes I help you do more than look.”
There had been a time when he would have been tempted to tangle a hand in her hair and kiss her. But there were people watching, and he didn’t feel that pull today. “Hm,” he hummed, gaze going to the plans. “What’s this?”
“Our options.”
Mostly, it looked like paint swatches and photos of other materials. But a closer inspection proved they were grouped in four distinct “looks.”
“Todd thinks this one,” she said, pointing to a quadrant full of white, horizontal wood walls, black iron fixtures, and pale wood furniture. White and gray tiles, and vinyl in charcoal and dove. “It’s that wholemodern farmhouselook.”
He snorted. “I’m guessing that’s not your favorite.”
