The angry man’s head jerked toward James, and he stood and glared. “You cook this shit? I will understand if you’re embarrassed to admit it.”
“I’m not embarrassed by anything I’ve ever cooked.” James’ face tightened. “And yeah, I did. You got a problem with your ribs? They look fine to me.”
“Looks aren’t everything. Taste is, so yeah, I got a problem with my ribs.” The man leaned over to pick up a rib and dropped back to the tray, his face pinched in disgust. “I have a big problem with the fact that these are the worst fucking ribs I’ve ever tasted in my life. They wouldn’t inflict this kind of shit on guys in prison.”
A few of the other customers glared at the man, including Gertrude, one of James’ regulars. The old woman was pushing eighty and credited beer and barbeque for her longevity. Her hand rested atop her cane as she tried to burn through the man with a baleful look. Some of the younger men at other tables looked just as displeased.
“It’s a free country, and you’re free to be a complete dumbass.” James pointed to the door. “There’s the exit. You don’t like the food? That’s fine. Nothing’s keeping you here. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
The man shook his head. “Fuck that. You owe me. I want my money back for having to suffer through that so-called meal.”
“No refunds,” James growled. “Now get out of here before you really piss me off.”
“No way.” The man slammed his hand on the table. The tray, plates, and silverware rattled. “I came here because of how good this place is supposed to be, but it’s literally the worst barbeque I’ve ever had in my life. I drove all the way here from Santa Monica, and now I’m going to have to stop somewhere else because of this shit you’re peddling as barbeque. I wouldn’t be surprised if I end up in the ER with food poisoning.”
James took a deep breath. He doubted the cops would appreciate him kicking a non-bounty through a window just because the man was talking shit about his barbeque, but the rude customer was pushing him to his limit. He had to admire the man’s bravery as much as his stupidity.
This is the problem with customer-fucking-service.
“Leave.” James folded his arms over his chest. “Leave now before you piss me off.”
The man sneered. “I’m not leaving without my money back. Maybe I should stand outside and tell everyone who is coming into this place how shitty this barbeque is. You like that? I got nothing better to do before I get the shits from your horrible barbeque.”
James stepped out from behind the counter. The angry customer smirked as the pitmaster approached his table, rumbling low in his chest.
With a quick snatch, James grabbed one of the ribs and took a bite. He chewed slowly, letting the various notes of flavor play over his tongue before swallowing.
“Are you high?” James asked. “Because you have to be high if you think that tastes bad. Or maybe you’re just drunk?”
“I’m not high,” the man shouted, throwing his hands up. He pointed to a glass of water. “And I haven’t been drinking. I have a right to my opinion, and in my opinion, your barbeque is crap.”
James tossed the rib back on the table. “There’s nothing wrong with that rib, but you’re acting like it was the worst thing you’ve ever eaten. The only explanation I can think of is you’re high, or you’re just a dumbass who has never had barbeque before. Some elf keep you locked up on Oriceran for five hundred years, and you’re just getting to Earth now?”
“I’ve had the best barbeque out there.” The man scoffed. “Just because you’re coasting on fame doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Everyone knows if you weren’t James Brownstone, this place would have folded within a couple of months. I’m just the only one brave enough to say it.”
Yeah, you’re brave. I’ll give you that, and only that.
“Shame on you,” shouted Gertrude from her table, her face red. “You’re a terrible person. Get out of here.”
Several other customers nodded their agreement, their faces contorted in anger.
“Quiet, old woman. This isn’t your business.” The angry customer turned back toward James, his lips curled into a sneer. “I might as well eat shit if I’m going to have to eat that stuff. It’s basically the same.”
Gertrude stood shakily and shook her head. “Absolutely no manners.”
“This is still my restaurant,” James muttered, his jaw clenched. “And I’m telling you to get the hell out. We reserve the right to serve who we want, and I’m now telling you to get out.”
“Or what?” the man shouted. “You’re not going to call the cops.” He stomped forward until he stood right in front of James, his fetid breath infiltrating James’ nostrils. “You’re James Brownstone. You’re not going to do something weak like that. If you want me gone, you’ll need to throw me out yourself. I dare you to do it. I bet you don’t have the balls to do it.”
Several other customers shook their heads, disbelief on their faces. Gertrude left her table and, using her cane, started making her way toward James and the angry customer.
Now he’s scaring off customers. Fuck it. I guess I don’t have any choice.
James locked eyes with the angry customer. “You really, really don’t want to make me pissed, asshole.”
“Or what? I’m no criminal. I’ve got no bounty.” The man stepped back and slapped his chest. “I’m just a man who happens to think you can’t cook barbeque. That’s not a crime.”
“Trespassing is.”
“Throw me out then, bitch.” The man grinned.
James’ nostrils flared. He’d had enough. If he had to deal with trouble with the police, so be it. The asshole in front of him was pushing hard for some pain.
The only question is, should I throw him through the window or the door? Which would be easiest to fix? Huh. I finally understand how Tyler used to feel.
Gertrude stopped right behind the man. “Are you going to leave?”
The man kept his attention on James as he shook his head. “No way. I’m not leaving until I get an apology from Brownstone and my money back. I should ask for some extra money for him wasting my time arguing with me.”
“Fine.” Gertrude whipped her cane up and slammed it into the back of the man’s knee with surprising speed.
The man yelped and fell forward when his leg buckled. His stomach slammed into the table. The fall ended with him on the table holding his stomach.
“You bitch,” the angry man growled.
James snickered. The rest of the dining room burst out in laughter.
The angry customer sat up and glared at Gertrude. “You’re not supposed to hit me.”
The old woman lifted her chin, satisfaction and pride in her eyes. “Normally I’d say violence doesn’t solve anything, but you’re asking for trouble.”
“Damn it.” The man scrambled to his feet and flung an arm in James’ direction. “You’re not supposed to hit me. Brownstone is. Damn it. I can’t sue some poor-ass old lady on Social Security.” He raised a fist. “You just cost me a big settlement, you old bitch.”
Oh, that explains it. He’s not brave, he’s just greedy.
The angry man took one step toward the old woman. Several men stood at nearby tables, their eyes narrowed and their fists clenched.
“Stop right there, asshole,” James growled. He curled his hand into a fist. “I let you come in here and talk shit about my barbeque even though you were obviously lying. I gave you plenty of chances to leave, and you kept talking crap about my food.” He shoved a chair out of the way so hard it crashed into a nearby wall and clattered to the tiled floor, the back cracked. “Now you’re pissing off my regulars and threatening an old woman. You want angry Brownstone? You got angry-fucking-Brownstone,” he growled.
The other man winced, some of the fire draining from his face.
James gave him a feral grin. “Your brilliant plan was to come in here and piss me off until I punched you? Then you could sue me for a bunch of money?”
&n
bsp; The man swallowed, his eyes wide. “Y-you’re rich. You could spare some money.”
“Are you the dumbest asshole on the planet?” James rumbled. “I thought everyone knew what happened to people who pissed me off. Say you succeeded. Would it be worth getting all your meals through a straw for the rest of your life? Hey, for that matter, you ever been thrown through a window?”
The man grimaced.
The other customers retook their seats, nodding in agreement. Gertrude hobbled her way back over to her table with a satisfied smile on her face.
The now-scared complainer backed toward the exit. “You wouldn’t dare. Y-you’d get in trouble.”
James scoffed. “You don’t know crap about what I might do, especially when people piss me off. I’m a married man now, and I’ve got a kid on the way. I try to keep it calm, but disrespecting my restaurant as part of some sort of scheme is pretty fucking annoying.” He slowly raised his hand and pointed at the door. “People are trying to have a good meal here, and you’re ruining the atmosphere. I could beat your ass, but then I’ll have to waste time talking to the cops, and I won’t be able to cook for any new customers for a few hours because none of my other pitmasters are here. I’m gonna take a page from my daughter and give you one last chance to get the hell out of here instead. Otherwise, we’re gonna see how far you can fly after going through my window.”
The complainer nodded quickly and sprinted toward the door.
“Wait,” James ordered.
The man halted and turned back around, his face pale. He swallowed. “What now?”
“I never forget a face,” James explained. “Don’t even think about coming here again and trying that bullshit with anyone else. I might be running a restaurant, but I used to be a bounty hunter. Do you really think I can’t find and take someone out without the cops finding out?”
The complainer threw open the door. A confused-looking Mack stood on the other side. The other customers cheered.
Mack stared after the fleeing man before entering and closing the door behind him. “Do I even want to know?”
“Just someone who was trying to push me.” James walked over to pick up the chair he’d tossed. “Damn. Now I have to replace this, but at least it’s cheaper than fixing the window.”
Mack glanced at the cracked chair. “It sounds like it’s a good time for you to get away.”
Chapter Five
James chuckled as he pushed into Jesse Rae’s. Even as he thought about and mentally prepared himself in the days leading up to his trip, he was more satisfied than he expected that the first leg of his journey was complete with his evening arrival in Las Vegas. It was a familiar city with familiar friends and restaurants, and he’d been away for too long.
It was hard for James to ignore the amusing reality that he was getting away from his own barbeque place just to head to another barbeque place.
It’s a barbeque road trip. Maybe the next road trip won’t be about barbeque, but the next week is gonna be nothing but sauce and meat for me. No fancy shit.
James grinned. He loved Shay, but sometimes it was nice to know he could have his favorite food without any risk of having high-end fish shoved at him. It was even worse when he visited Alison since sushi was her favorite food. He’d tried to appreciate it, but its subtleties continued to escape him.
I don’t get it, but it’s her mouth and stomach, so I shouldn’t complain too much.
Jesse Rae’s hadn’t changed much since James had opened his own place, except there were more plaques, trophies, and certificates on the wall. It felt like for every competition the Pig and Cow won, Jesse Rae’s won two. The overwhelming number of victories made them start being strategic about which awards they chose to display in their dining room. Victory had created inconvenience.
A moving target is harder to hit but more satisfying.
James offered the owner Mike, who stood at the counter, a polite nod before heading toward his destination, a table holding a handsome, dark-skinned young man in an expensive black suit. It was Trey Garfield, the bounty hunter responsible for running the Brownstone Agency satellite office in Las Vegas.
“What’s up, big man?” Trey called with a wave. “I know we’re always on the phone and whatnot, but it’s been too long since I’ve seen you with these here eyeballs. It’s good to see that face of yours. Reminds me that you’re real and not just a guy grunting on the phone.”
James dropped into a seat. Trays filled with brisket and ribs already covered the table. Trey knew what he liked, and so did Mike, his family, and his employees. Jesse Rae’s had catered his wedding, after all, and it wasn’t like his taste had changed much in the following years.
James shrugged. “Yeah, I get up my ass about running the restaurant and act like it’ll fall apart if I leave, but I’ve got Mack there. I should visit more often.”
“Not blaming you. Don’t get me wrong.” Trey smiled. “I’m just as guilty. I could visit you when I’m visiting Nana, but I always seem to have an excuse not to lately. Things get busy. You know how things go—responsibility and all that. I guess we both have problems with perspective.”
There’s something bothering me about Trey, but what it is? And why is it bothering me all of a sudden?
“Yeah, responsibility and perspective.” James stared at the other man, his eyes narrowing. He’d not paid much attention to the subtle changes in Trey’s speech patterns over the last year. The minor diction changes had added up to something major. There was a big and obvious explanation for it, even if Trey had never explicitly suggested it.
Son of a bitch.
Trey frowned and looked down at his suit before looking back up at James. “I don’t need a bib, big man. I can eat a few ribs without getting my clothes dirty. You’ve seen me eat barbeque in my suit a million times.”
“No. It’s not that.” James grunted.
“Then what is it?”
James shook his head. “It’s just…you don’t cuss much anymore. Somehow I knew it without realizing it. Does that make sense?”
“Oh. I see.” Trey laughed. “Yeah, I suppose I don’t. I thought I’d told you about that, but I don’t rightly remember telling you directly.” He frowned. “Yeah, told a bunch of people at the agency and Nana and Charlyce, but never you.” He shrugged. “It’s something that comes with Zoe and me having Little Zoe. It was just small change at first because I caught her staring me when I rattled off one of my classic colorful Trey descriptions. I didn’t care when she was a baby, but since she’s started talking, it’s gotten a little uncomfortable.”
“And Zoe got mad about it, so you decided to change?”
Trey snorted. “Nope. It’s not like my wife cared that I had a gangster's mouth, but it was hard to look at my little girl and not think, ‘Oh, man, I can do better by her. Nana tried with me, but I let the streets teach me more than my nana. Now I have a choice, so I chose to change my habits, and habit became reality. That reality became me.” He fluffed his lapels. “It’s not like I never do it. I can drop the nice words with the bounties, but it’s kind of a contest with myself to keep it clean otherwise. That way I never screw up around Little Zoe. So Smooth Trey came to stay, you know what I’m saying?”
James offered a shallow nod. “Yeah, that makes sense. It’s not like I think you need to cuss or anything. It’s just something I noticed.”
“Why is this coming up all of a sudden? I mean, it’s been a while now.” Trey pointed and grinned. “Oh, I get it. I get it. You’re all worried. James Brownstone’s gonna have to control his mouth. Being a foul-mouthed bounty hunter-slash-pitmaster won’t do when Little Brownstone’s toddling along sucking on her thumb.”
“Her?” James furrowed his brow. “We don’t know the gender yet.”
He wasn’t sure which he preferred, but he didn’t want to set himself up for disappointment by focusing too much on one gender or another. He had a daughter he was proud of, and he wouldn’t mind another daughter to be proud of
, but he also wouldn’t mind a son.
“Fine. His or her thumb.” Trey forked a piece of brisket onto his plate. “Don’t change anything, though.”
“I’ll admit the thought had occurred to me. Shit changes, and people change.” James grunted. “Even I can change. I already have.”
Whispy’s changed me more than most people know, even the ones I’ve told the truth about me.
Trey shook his head as he set his fork down on his plate. “You should have waited to tell me about the kid in person, by the way. The whole ‘Oh, let’s meet, and oh yeah, I’m gonna have a new kid’ thing over the phone was weak, big man.’” He scoffed. “Delivering the news to me like you got a new pair of shoes. Weak! What was that about? You haven’t had any trouble?”
“I’m still processing the whole kid thing, but I think I’m okay.” James nodded, more for his own benefit than Trey’s. “I’m not saying it’s not gonna be a big adjustment, but I’m far less…concerned than when Shay first told me. If that makes sense.”
“You’re okay?” Incredulity crept onto Trey’s face. “Seriously?” Somehow, even more suspicion appeared and he clucked his tongue a few times. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
James frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a kid, not some CIA rogue squad after me.”
“Hey, big man, I knew you before even Shay knew you. I know you gave up on your KISS philosophy, but it’s burned into your soul.” Trey shook a finger at him. “And I know you’re realizing how the kid’s gonna make things complicated, and your brain is having trouble handling that even though your heart is happy. No problem admitting that. That’s just part of being a new dad. I went through the same thing.”
“Sure, maybe I’ve thought some of that, but how hard can it be?”
Trey stared at James somberly for a few seconds before cackling. “You’ve got some pretty big delusions, big man, and the Lord’s about to shatter them something fierce, but don’t worry. I’m here to tell you it’s all worth it. Plus, you’ve got experience at least on the teenage end, and that’s the hardest part. Everyone says so. At least when they’re little, they still have some respect for you. I wasn’t a punk to Nana until I was a teenager.”
Road Trip: BBQ And A Brawl (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 19) Page 4