"Yeah," I added. "And besides, who likes cold pancakes?"
Bishop's gaze shifted to me. "That's what microwaves are for."
Selena made a face. "Microwaved pancakes. That issowrong."
"No kidding," I chimed in. "They're never as good warmed up."
Bishop turned to my sister. In a tone of infinite patience, he said, "Alright, we'll hit a different place. Not a big deal." He flicked his head toward the door. "Now, come on."
"Nope." She crossed her arms. "Sorry. Not 'til you guys work it out."
Next to me, Jake said, "Itisworked out. Not that dickhead believes it."
Bishop's jaw tightened. "I'mthe dickhead?"
"Hey!" a scratchy female voice called out from somewhere nearby. "You're both dickheads. Now shut up, so I can read my paper in peace."
We all turned to look. The voice belonged to a gray-haired woman sitting two booths away. When she saw us looking, she slammed down her newspaper and said, "I mean it. Quit bitchin', or go outside. You're ruining my damn breakfast."
Next to me, Jake stood. He looked to Bishop. "You wanna take it outside? I'm game." A moment later, he was striding toward the door, with Bishop striding after him.
So much for a nice, happy breakfast.
