Bishop gave the window a quick glance. "Who says we wanna fight?"
Next to me, Jake spoke up. "Speak for yourself, dickhead."
I turned to glare at him. "Hey," I hissed. "We're at a family restaurant. Watch the language, okay?"
Jake made a show of looking around. Actually, the place was kind of a dive, and there wasn't a single kid in sight. He lifted an eyebrow and waited for my response.
"Oh, fine," I muttered. "But you know what I mean."
Across from us, Selena tried again. "Alright, if you're not gonna fight, at least talk it out, okay?"
She rested a hand on Bishop's arm. "In fact, let's all talk about it." She smiled. "Four heads are better than two, right?"
Jake and Bishop exchanged a look. Neither one looked eager for assistance.
Selena let out a breath. "Alrighty then," she said in a tone I knew all too well. "I'll start with the basics." She looked to me and said, "They're worried that Joel is going to sign with Vince."
Next to me, Jake spoke up. "Wrong. Bishop's worried. I'm not." He turned to Bishop and said, "I've got this, as I already told you."
"Yeah?" Bishop said. "And what happens when it backfires?"
"Nothing," Jake said, "because it's not gonna."
"Your ass," Bishop said. "He's gonna fuckin' hate you."
Selena turned to give Bishop a look. "Hey," she whispered. "Seriously. Watch the language, okay?"
Next to me, Jake's tone grew sarcastic. "Yeah," he told Bishop. "It's a family restaurant, remember?"
"Hey!" I said. "Are you making fun of me?"
Jake shrugged.
"Are you?" I repeated.
Jake flicked his head toward Bishop and said, "Nah, I'm making fun of him."
I rolled my eyes. "Nice try."
Across from us, Bishop spoke up. "Just listen," he told Jake. "You do it your way, he's gonna be pissed off."
"It's already done," Jake said, "so drop it."
Confused, I stared from brother to brother. What was already done?
Before I could give it too much thought, Bishop spoke again. "You're gonna get grief. You know that, right?"
"Grief, huh?" Jake leaned back and crossed his arms. "Do I look like I care?"
Bishop's jaw tightened. "You should. You ever hear of blowback?"
Jake grinned. "You ever hear of 'blow me?'"
Bishop looked at Jake for a long, silent moment. "Right." He looked to Selena and said, "You ready?"
She gave him a look. "No. We haven't even gotten our food."
"So, we'll get it to go."
"Nope. Sorry." She gave him a pleading look. "Seriously, we can't leave now."
"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 is so wrong."
"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, "It is worked out. Not that dickhead believes it."
Bishop's jaw tightened. "I'm the 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.
Chapter 37
Sitting at the table, Selena and I watched through the restaurant window as they stopped near the street and turned to face each other.
I bit my lip. "They're not really gonna fight, are they?"
Selena gave them a worried glance. "No. Of course not."
I recognized the tone. It was the same one she'd used back in grade school, when she'd assured me that our parents weren't going to get divorced.
A month later, they were living in different houses.
Somehow, the recollection wasn't terribly comforting.
Again, I looked outside. Jake and Bishop were standing within arm's reach of each other, talking, or more likely, arguing. But at least they weren't fighting. Not yet, anyway.
I looked to Selena. "I've gotta ask, do you think Bishop'll hit him?"
"No." She hesitated. "Well, not unless Jake hits him first."
"Oh. That's good."
"Why?
"Because he wouldn’t," I said.
She gave me a dubious look. "You sure about that?"
"Yeah. He never does." I paused. "Or at least, not usually." I tried to laugh. "Usually, what he does is piss-off the other person until they take a swing at him. He's pretty good at it, actually."
"Yeah, I noticed."
Again, we looked outside. They still weren't hitting each other. That was a good sign, right?
Just then, our waitress appeared with a huge tray of food. As she started delivering plates, she paused in mid-motion. She was looking out the window, where Jake and Bishop were still facing off, looking like they wanted to kill each other.
"Don't worry," I told the waitress. "We're pretty sure they're not gonna fight."
"If you say so, honey," she said, delivering the rest of the plates and hustling off to the next table.
I looked at the heaping plates and sighed. "Should we tell them the food's here?"
Selena glanced toward the woman who'd complained earlier. She was sipping her coffee while looking down, reading her newspaper.
On the woman's table, I spotted a couple of dirty plates and a wadded up napkin. The way it looked, her food was gone, but in my experience, that didn't mean she'd be leaving any time soon.
She did, after all, have coffee and a newspaper.
In a hushed voice, I told Selena, "Don’t get your hopes up. She might be there for hours."
Selena turned and glanced toward the parking lot, where Jake and Bishop were still talking. "If we call them in," she said, "do you think Jake can be nice for once?"
I gave her a look. "I dunno. Do you think Bishop can be nice for once?"
"Hey," she said, looking almost insulted. "He's always nice."
"He is not," I told her. "He's especially not nice to Jake."
"That's not true," she insisted.
"Oh really? How would you know?"
"I know because…" She hesitated. "Well, I guess I don't, actually."
"Exactly," I said. "Admit it. You don’t even like him."
"Who? Jake?" she said. "That's hardly my fault. It's hard to like him when he's a jerk all the time."
"He's a jerk?" I said. "What about Bishop?"
"What about him?"
"He only comes over when he wants to gripe. You know, I've been living with Jake for a few weeks now, and seriously, the only time we ever hear from Bishop is when he comes by to tell Jake what a screw-up he is." I made a sound of annoyance. "Which, by the way, he isn't."
"Luna, come on," she said in her let's-all-be-reasonable voice. "Jake pisses people off for a living. You've gotta admit that much."
"So what?" I said. "What does Bishop do?"
"What do you mean?"
"For a living. What does he do?"
Her gaze shifted outside, where Jake and Bishop appeared to be engaged in some sort of standoff. They weren't talking so much as glaring.
Was that an improvement? Honestly, I didn't know.
I turned back to my sister. "Admit it. You don't even know."
"What Bishop does?" she said. "I do, too."
"Oh yeah? What?"
"Well, he has some patents, and does some security stuff."
"That sounds awful vague to me."
"It's not vague," she said. "It's passive income. He makes money for things he invented forever ago."
From what I'd heard, he made a lot of money. But that was beside the point. "I'm just saying that I don't appreciate you judging me. Or Jake either for that matter."
At the hurt in her eyes, I softened my tone. "I love him. And he's a great guy. You'd know that if you ever gave him half a chance."
"I have given him a chance."
"You have not," I said. "And neither has Bishop."
Selena closed her eyes and said, "I don't believe this."
"What?"
With her eyes still shut, she leaned back in the booth and let out a long, weary sigh. "Why are we arguing? They're the ones who are mad at each other."
"Yeah, but it's important to me. Can't you at least try to like him?" Thinking of Jake, I turned to look out the window.
I heard myself gasp. "Oh, crap."
Instantly, Selena's eyes flew open. "What?"
I pointed out the window. "Look."
Selena looked. From the expression on her face, she knew exactly what I meant.
Outside, a silver-and-black sports car with dark, tinted windows and flashy silver rims had pulled up to the curb, just a few feet away from where Jake and Bishop were standing.
Hanging out of the open passenger's side window was someone all too familiar. It was Ronnie North, Dorian's younger brother, who'd flipped out at the convention center when he hadn't won that regional sports award.
And since Ronnie wasn't driving, I knew at least one thing for certain. He wasn't alone.
Damn it.
Chapter 38
Horrified, I stared through the restaurant window.
From what I could see, Ronnie was spitting mad, literally. He was yelling something to Jake, who, along with Bishop, had turned to look.
I couldn’t see their faces, but their stances looked easy and relaxed, like they didn't have a care in the world.
God, they were so damned cocky.
Of course.
I jumped up from the booth, only to collide with a waitress, not ours, who dropped her tray, sending dishes crashing to the floor.
"Oh, my God," I said. "I am so sorry." I looked down and saw broken glasses and shattered plates, along with the discarded remnants of scrambled eggs and pieces of syrupy pancakes, obviously from a table that had just been cleared.
At least, I hadn't ruined anyone's breakfast – well, except for the lady two booths over, who was now openly glaring at me.
What? Like I'd done it on purpose? I glared back at her. "Sorry, it was an accident."
And besides, I suddenly recalled, her breakfast was long gone.
But apparently, that didn't matter. With a huff, she returned to her paper, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like, "Accident, my ass."
Whatever. I had bigger things to worry about. I snuck a quick glance outside, where Ronnie was still yelling, and the guys were still watching.
In front of me, Selena had scooted out of the booth and was now crouching down to help the waitress pick up the mess.
Beside her, the waitress looked ready to cry. "Just stop it, okay? You're gonna cut yourself." She called out toward the kitchen, "Charlie, grab the broom. We got another mess out here!"
Under her breath, she added, "Just great. More out of my paycheck."
I paused. She'd be paying for it? I spoke up. "But it wasn't your fault."
If anything, I figured the damage would be added to our bill, and rightfully so. I mean, I didn't expect anyone else to pay for my clumsiness.
The waitress picked up her tray and stood, blinking back tears. Turning to walk away, she mumbled, "Yeah, well tell that to my boss."
I wanted to say something, but before I could find the words, Selena, who'd gotten to her feet, called out, "Hey, wait a second."
The waitress stopped and turned around, but said nothing.
My sister grabbed her purse and yanked out her wallet. She pulled out a few bills and thrust them toward the waitress. "Does this cover it?"
The waitress gave the money a worried look. After a long pause, she said, "Actually, I think that's too much." Wincing, she gave a weak laugh. "I'm an idiot for admitting that, aren't I?"
"No. And it's not too much," Selena said. "It's for the trouble, too." Before the waitress could object, Selena placed the money on the waitress's tray and glanced again toward the window. "Oh shoot, hang on." She pulled out a few more bills and tossed them onto our table, telling the waitress, "Can you tell our server that's for breakfast?"
The waitress looked down at our table, still laden with food that was mostly untouched. "But you didn't eat any of it."
"Tell me about it," Selena said, glancing again toward the parking lot. "Sorry, but we've gotta run."
From a couple of tables away, the woman with the newspaper called out, "Halleluiah!"
Well, that was nice.
I grabbed my purse and, with Selena, rushed for the exit. By the time we pushed through the restaurant door, the situation was already escalating.
I moved to join Jake, but Selena grabbed my arm. "Wait."
I stopped. "For what?"
"If we get too close, we'll distract them."
I gave a quick shake of my head. "What?"
"If we get in the middle of it," she explained, "they'll be more worried about us than themselves."
I paused. It was funny. I'd never quite looked at it that way. But she was right. Still, I had to ask the obvious question. "Then why are we out here?"
Releasing me, she gave a weak laugh. "I dunno. Backup?"
I looked to the street. "Speaking of backups…" I didn't bother finishing the sentence. Selena had eyes. She could see for herself.
Ronnie was still hanging out of the passenger's side window, but now, traffic was piling up behind him.
On the other side of the street, a food delivery truck had claimed the other lane, which meant that until Ronnie moved, no one else could get through.
It was barely dawn, and a Saturday, too, so traffic wasn't even that heavy. Unfortunately, the cars were still stacking up scarily fast. I heard a horn honk, followed by the sound of a male voice yelling out, "Move your ass, dipshit!"
Like so many other times over the past few weeks, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
God, what a spectacle.
The only upside was that, for whatever reason, Ronnie didn't seem inclined to actually get out of the car. And for whatever other reason, Jake and Bishop didn't seem inclined to do much more than watch, looking – from what I could see now – stupidly amused.
I couldn’t say I blamed them. It was entertaining, in a freak-show kind of way. And like all freak shows, it had attracted a crowd, not a huge one, but at least twenty people, watching from the sidelines.
Ronnie looked drunk off his ass, which no doubt, explained what he was doing out here so early. To him, it was probably the end of a long night, not the beginning of a new day.
He was still hollering, slurring out toward Jake, "You think you're such a big man. Well, you're not a big anything. You're an asshole, that's what you are."
Jake gave a low laugh. "That's what I hear." He turned to Bishop and said, "Do you think I'm an asshole?"
Bishop's voice was deadpan. "Don't ask."
Suddenly inspired, I turned to Selena and said, "Hey, can I borrow your phone?"
"Why?" But already, she was reaching into her purse. "Are you gonna call 911?"
"Actually," I admitted, "I want to get this on film."
She paused in mid-motion. "What?"
"Well, not on film-film," I explained. "I mean I wanna record it. You know. For Jake."
Selena looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "Why? For legal reasons?"
"Does it matter?" I thrust out my hand, palm-up. "Come on. Just hand it over
, okay? I'd use my own if I had it."
But I didn't have it. The phone still hadn't turned up, and I was starting worry it was gone for good. How or why, I had no idea. It's not like I'd gone anywhere since using it last.
To her credit, Selena handed her phone over without further argument. Hers wasn't terribly different from my own, and within a couple of seconds, I was lifting the phone to capture the action.
I focused in on Ronnie, who was looking like a total idiot. He was now hanging so far out of the car that I started to wonder, was someone hanging onto his legs or something? Whether that was the case or not, it looked decidedly unsafe.
Next to me, Selena asked, "Is this for Jake's channel? This wasn't planned or anything, was it?"
I held up a single finger. "Shhh!"
"Did you just shush me?"
I gave her a look and shushed her again. I almost felt guilty. Like me, she hated being shushed. But I was trying to accomplish something here. She of all people should respect that. Right?
Apparently not. She gave a slow shake of her head and took a half-step away.
Ahead of us, Ronnie lifted both of his fists and hollered out to Jake, "The next time I see you, you're dead meat."
"Why wait?" Jake said. "You can dead-meat me now."
"Oh, suuuuure," Ronnie slurred. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Hell yeah!" Jake said. "Bring it on, fatso."
"Heeey!" Ronnie bellowed. "I'm not fat!"
I had to agree with Ronnie. He was a big guy, but I didn't see an ounce of fat on him. Then again, I could only see the half that was hanging out of the car. If his ass was big, I'd never know it.
In front of us, Jake gave Ronnie a cocky grin. "If you say so, Tubs."
The crowd laughed. Ronnie sputtered. Somewhere down the street, tires squealed, and something crashed. The crash was followed by the sounds of yelling, not the call-an-ambulance kind of yelling, but the angry, fender-bender kind, filled with profanity and threats to jam a muffler up someone's ass.
As for Ronnie's car, it showed no sign of moving. He glared at the crowd, looking more belligerent than ever.
Amusing or not, this was putting other people in danger. I couldn't help myself. Still holding the phone, I hollered out, "Hey, Ronnie! Just go, okay? You're gonna get people hurt!"
Jake Forever (Jaked Book 3) Page 18