Page 130 of Jaked


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"Yeah," he said. "It's nice." And then, as if eager to change the subject, he said, "Hey, you know why everyone's mad at the Chainsaw?"

I shook my head. "No. Why?"

"Get this," Jake said. "Last Saturday, the guy 'accidentally' spikes a football into the stands, hits this ten-year-old kid who's wearing the opposing team's jersey."

"That's terrible," I said. "On purpose?"

"No." Jake's voice grew sarcastic. "Not on purpose. The ball slipped, that's all."

"Was the kid hurt?"

"Nah," Jake said. "It knocked him over though. Chainsaw thought it was fucking hilarious."

"What an asshole," I said.

Jake's eyebrows lifted. "Yeah?"

"Oh come on," I said. "He is."

"You see me arguing?" Jake said. "Everyone hates him. Even the fans."

"Is that why you picked a fight with him?" I asked.

"Nah, he picked the fight with me. Remember?"

"You mean the one I saw?"

"Eh, the one before that."

I didn't bother to hide my skepticism. "By any chance," I said, "did you happen to, oh, I don't know, provoke him in any way?"

Jake grinned. "There might've been some provoking."

"I knew it."

"Hey," Jake said. "I'm good at two things –pissing people off and fighting. Why not put it to use, right?"

The logic made sense in a Jake sort of way. But I couldn’t quite agree withallof what he had said. "You're not good atonlytwo things," I told him.

"Is that so?"

I nodded. "In fact, there's a third thing you'reparticularlygood at." Across the table, I crooked my finger for him to come closer. When he did, I added, "but I'm not saying you couldn't use a little more practice. Like soon."

A slow smile spread across Jake's face. "Yeah?"

I nodded. "Definitely."