by A. M. Arthur
Justin turned his mug over. Alessandro poured slowly and with great care, not putting it past Justin to do something asshole-ish like move the mug. Terry shook his head, then mumbled something.
“Orange juice,” Justin translated.
“Coming right up. Specials are on the board.” Alessandro walked away to get the juice. He had to get used to seeing Justin here. Over the last few years he’d gotten very used to not seeing him. Anywhere. Ever. All he saw when Justin looked at him was Justin’s face when they were seventeen, and he’d bullied Alessandro into keeping a secret that Alessandro hadn’t even understood. The same smug, pretentious look that knew his father’s money could fix anything, and that a Latino kid like Alessandro wouldn’t do a damn thing to stop him. Who would believe Alessandro’s word over Justin’s, anyway? No one.
Maybe now they would, but not then. And did it really matter anymore? Why bring up something that happened six years ago, and that no one would benefit from hearing the truth about?
Except maybe Brittney.
He nearly dropped the glass of orange juice he’d poured. He hadn’t consciously thought her name in years, and certainly not in context of the secret Justin paid him to keep. All he remembered was Justin driving with a female passenger. He didn’t know who she was, and he’d never cared. He’d taken Justin’s payoff and forgotten the whole thing.
So why had his memory fed him Brittney’s name?
From the cash register, Shannon cleared her throat loud enough to get his attention. He shook himself awake, embarrassed he’d gotten so lost in thought. She arched a thick, blond eyebrow high enough to ask if he was okay. He pushed the disturbing thoughts away, then nodded.
“Ready to order?” Alessandro asked as he deposited the juice in front of Terry.
“You got any banana-nut muffins left up there?” Justin asked.
He had to think about it, to picture the muffin display as he’d last seen it. “No, I think we’re all out.”
“Can you check?” Justin’s tone was less of a question and more of an I’m the customer, do as I say, bitch command.
Alessandro returned the counter, double-checked that he’d been correct and then came back. “Sorry, we’re out of banana nut.”
“How about corn muffins?”
“We’re out of those, too.”
“Can you check?”
Irritation buzzed in Alessandro’s head like a wasp. “I was just up there, Justin.”
Justin blinked at him, the picture of innocence. “Maybe you didn’t see one.”
Alessandro repeated his trip, and this time it caught Shannon’s attention. He shook his head curtly, and she nodded. He could handle this. He studied the complete selection of baked goods remaining for purchase, then went back.
“Okay, we have one cranberry orange, two lemon poppy seed, three bran muffins, a couple of croissants, two cheese Danish, a bacon-cheddar biscuit and an apple fritter. That’s everything in the case, and yes, I’m positive.”
Justin tapped his fingers against his chin. “I’ll have a California omelet. Terry, too.”
“Fine.” Alessandro cleared his throat, working hard to keep his expression benign. “I’ll put that right in for you.”
He scribbled the order on his pad and shoved it into the spinner. Rusty gave him a look, but didn’t comment. Shannon came into the back, though, and wasn’t being so generous.
“They giving you a hard time, Alè?” she asked.
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“You two went to school together, right?”
“Yeah, but we weren’t friends then, and we aren’t friends now.”
“Guys like that never change. He’ll always be an asshole.” Something in her voice suggested that Alessandro was nothing like Justin, because he’d made the choice to change. And he adored her for that unspoken compliment.
He checked on his other tables, concentrating on doing his job instead of on the two sneering jerks watching him like they were waiting for him to screw up. He was glad they’d chosen to sit on the opposite side of the dining room, because he wouldn’t put it past Justin to do something as grade-school as stick his foot out to trip him. When Rusty called out the order was up, he fetched the plates and deposited them with a flamboyance born completely of hatred. “Anything else, boys?” he drawled.
Justin glared at him. Then he leaned in, his voice low. “Does Shannon over there know you’re fucking her little brother’s brains out every afternoon?”
Cold fire raced through Alessandro’s veins, and he yanked hard to keep control of both his voice and his temper. “What makes you think I am?”
“Couple people have seen him heading away from the Deforio place, seen his bike on the porch. Don’t tell me you two are playing Xbox for hours a day.”
“Jaime and I are friends. What we do for hours a day is none of your business, but if you’re curious, why don’t you come over today? Or are you afraid of someone seeing you and needing to be paid off?”
Now hell, why had he said that? The poisonous look on Justin’s face told him the remark hit home just as he’d intended. It also made him wonder if he’d gone too far in provoking Justin’s wrath.
“You’d better watch your mouth, Silva, and what comes out it,” Justin said, his whisper sharp as a blade. “You have some good things going for you. Be a shame for something to happen to one of them because you were wagging your tongue about shit best left buried.”
“You got in my face first, pal. Stay away from me, and we’ll both be happier for it.”
Justin stabbed at the omelet with his fork. “But I like eating here. Maybe you should get another job.”
The doorbell chimed before Alessandro could wrap his tongue around a good response. A woman and her young daughter walked up to the counter. Alessandro used the distraction to get away from Justin’s table before he let his fists do the rest of the talking. He muttered something to Shannon about the restroom, then stormed into the back.
He shut the door and sat down on the small toilet, shaking hands clenched into tight fists. Justin hadn’t come right out and threatened Jaime, Eunice or the kids, but he’d been very clear in what he hadn’t said. Justin was an asshole, but he was also smart. He’d gotten away with shit all the time in high school, and if he wanted to hurt Alessandro, he’d find a way to do it.
Alessandro protected what was his. Jaime and Shannon were very much a part of his family, and he’d protect them too, if it came to that. But would any of them have been threatened now if he’d just stayed in the city? Would everything be better, safer, if he’d never come home at all?
* * *
Jaime was running late getting to Baker’s Dozen, but it wasn’t his fault. He’d spent the morning working on a paper for his medieval literature course and managed to get quite a lot finished. He usually left the house around quarter until eleven, giving himself plenty of time to bike over and spend some time reading while Alessandro finished up work. Today he’d gone outside to find his bike had a flat tire.
Not just a regular flat tire that he could fix with his hand pump. No, this one was a completely cut tire that required replacing. He had no idea how to do that, so he walked the bike over a mile to Spike’s Garage. They fixed everything from cars to motorcycles to your kid’s remote controlled boat.
Spike wasn’t working, but his cousin Bart took one look at the tire and said, “Damn, kid, someone cut that with a knife, I’d bet.”
“A knife? Could I have run over something sharp? Or hit something?”
“You’d have probably felt it if it happened while you were riding. Didn’t just cut the tire, it popped the tube, too.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“You lock your bike up at night?”
“Not really. I mean, I leave it near our porch, but it isn’t in a shed or anything. Why?”
Bart shrugged. “Could be kids on a dare, or playing a prank. Figure bikes aren’t as huge a deal as a car tire, but getting up close to a hous
e gives them a rush, you know?”
Jaime nodded like he understood. “How much to fix it?”
He quoted a price. “Can’t do it this weekend, though. We’re out of tubes this size, but there’s a few coming in Monday.”
“Okay.” It meant going without transportation all weekend. He didn’t have many places to go, though, that required his bike. He’d ride in with Shannon in the morning, and Alessandro was picking him up for their date tomorrow night. His stomach tightened with anticipation.
“You okay to get where you’re going next?” Bart asked.
“Yeah, I’m heading to my sister’s shop. It’s not superfar.”
He filled out a form, then headed out. It was nearly noon when he finally made it to the bakery, and it only occurred to him then that he should have texted Alessandro and told him he’d be running late. Of course, Alessandro didn’t keep his cell phone on him while he was at work, so it didn’t really matter in the end that he hadn’t thought to let him know. He never told Alessandro he’d be there every day. He just showed up regularly.
Only two people were still eating when he slipped inside, and he almost groaned out loud when he saw them. Terry glanced up from his half-eaten omelet, his red, sleepy eyes going wide. That got Justin’s attention. Jaime ignored them both and put his bag down in the booth farthest away.
Shannon came out from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. She grinned. “Hey, Bug. You okay? You look sweaty.”
“I’m fine. Just walked all over creation this morning.” He explained his bicycle drama, and she swore a blue streak at the idea of some punk kid doing that as a prank. “Should be fixed on Monday.”
“I’d like to find those kids and make their damned parents pay for such a fine upbringing,” Shannon snapped.
“Me, too.” He glanced around the dining room. “Is Alè here?”
“He’s in the back doing some stuff for me.”
Something in her tone alerted him to a deeper, more subtle meaning, and he could guess it had everything to do with their only patrons. “Was Justin giving him a hard time?” he whispered.
“Yes, not that he would admit it. There’s bad blood there.”
“I know.” He started to turn.
Shannon grabbed his arm. “I don’t want you in the middle of their crap, Bug.”
“Ten gets you twenty I’m already part of it, sis.” He shook her off and marched over to the table where Justin was fishing money out of his wallet. “You guys need anything else? We’re about to close for the day.”
“Nah, we’re done.” The check was already on the table. Justin dropped some cash on top of the ticket. His wrist hit a glass of orange juice and sent the quarter-full contents splashing all over both. “Well, shit. Oops.”
The tops of Jaime’s ears burned. “I didn’t know you were so clumsy, Justin.”
“I’m full of surprises.” Standing up, Jaime was surprised to notice that Justin was exactly his height. Justin’s mouth twitched. “Like you, or so some birdies told me.”
“Huh?”
His lips curled in disgust. “Never took you for a fag, Winters. Which one of you takes it up the ass?”
Jaime’s heart slammed against his ribs, and something vile surged up to splash against the back of his throat. His fingers itched to grab something, maybe that overturned glass, and hit Justin upside the head with it. Just to knock that look off his face once and for all.
“Good question, Justin,” Jaime said. “Why don’t you stop by this afternoon and I’ll show you?”
Justin’s face went blank, then red with rage. Terry nearly knocked his chair over getting up. He hooked Justin’s arm with a terse, “Let’s go, man,” and dragged his friend out of the bakery. As the door started to close, Jaime caught one last glimpse of Justin’s murderous expression and almost regretted his parting shot.
Almost.
Jaime locked the front door and turned the sign over to Closed.
“What was that all about?” Shannon asked.
“Justin Maddox being an asshole.”
“What else is new?” She smiled at him, but Jaime couldn’t force one of his own. Riling Justin up had been stupid.
“Hey, sorry,” Alessandro said as he rushed in from the back. His face was damp, like he’d washed it. He gazed around the empty dining room, skipping right over Jaime in a way that made him feel horribly invisible. “Oh, we’re done?”
“We’re done, kiddo,” Shannon said. “Let’s get to cleaning up.”
Alessandro approached the messy table, his smile forced and tight, and it fell away completely when he saw the money and ticket. He muttered something Jaime couldn’t discern but was probably a lot of swearing. When Jaime stepped closer to help him with the mess, Alessandro held up a staying hand. Combined with the dark look on his face, Jaime read the message loud and clear, and he stayed away.
For the first time in the two weeks since they met, he felt invisible to Alessandro. Justin had to have been giving him more than just a hard time for Alessandro to push Jaime away, and he was too afraid of the legend of Alessandro’s temper to get in his face about it. If he needed time and space, Jaime would give it to him.
He went into the kitchen and helped Shannon load up the dishwasher. Her eyebrows asked him what was going on, and he answered with a shrug. He really didn’t know. Everyone had bad days, though, and Alessandro was certainly entitled.
“Eat something, boy, you’re too skinny,” Rusty said as he thrust a plate of food at him. He’d made some sort of sandwich out of two waffles and eggs and whatever else he’d had around. Rusty hated wasting food and he was pretty damn spot-on when it came to preparing orders, but sometimes he had things left over.
Jaime stared at the odd sandwich, then dove in, unsure when he’d gotten so hungry. Alessandro didn’t want his help in the dining room, so Jaime would eat and let him do his chores. Didn’t seem like a bad arrangement. The eggs had peppers, onions and sausage mixed in, and, Jaime managed to eat about three-quarters of the sandwich. Shannon came by with a tray of day-old muffins to wrap up for disposal—disposal meaning she dropped them off at a local business somewhere on the way home, so they were sure to be eaten and not wasted. She finished what Jaime couldn’t eat.
Alessandro moved in and out of the kitchen several times as he went about his closing routine. His jaw was tight, his expression blank, totally lost inside his own thoughts while he worked. The change from the smiling, energetic man Jaime was used to seeing on a daily basis was striking. And a little frightening.
After forty-five minutes of the silent treatment, Jaime’s anxiety was turning to annoyance. He could have been at home studying or reading or working on a research paper, instead of hanging around the bakery waiting for Alessandro’s bad mood to dry up. When Alessandro went to the supply closet to put away his cleaning bucket, Jaime cornered him there.
“What did Justin say to you?” he asked.
Alessandro’s eyes widened a beat, then narrowed. “The usual shit, why?”
“Because you’re acting like you’re pissed off about something, and I know you two don’t like each other.”
“Now that’s a fucking understatement.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“Why? You gonna fight him for me if he did?” Alessandro quirked an eyebrow, and not in a teasing way. He was being mocked.
The knowledge hit Jaime in the gut, and he flinched. “You know what, Alè? Why don’t you spend the afternoon with your bad mood? Give me a call when you’re done being a jerk.”
Jaime didn’t tell Shannon he was leaving, and he didn’t give Alessandro the benefit of a goodbye, or even a backward glance. He left through the front door and used his key to lock it from the outside.
The afternoon sunshine didn’t help. Mostly Jaime felt worse. He wanted to help, and he hated leaving Alessandro behind to figure things out for himself. But he also dreaded the idea of staying and seeing the wrong side of Alessandro’s temper.
&
nbsp; * * *
Alessandro wasn’t proud of his behavior in the bakery. He’d been a jerk to Jaime, who hadn’t deserved it, and he caught himself nearly snapping at Shannon and Rusty as they all left for the day. He had managed to rein that in before he got himself into trouble with the boss. He had to figure out a way to apologize to Jaime.
Later. Now he was sitting on the front porch waiting for the bus to drop off Tony and Molly. He’d spent the handful of hours normally devoted to time with Jaime to investigating the entire perimeter of Eunice’s yard. Maybe he was paranoid, but Alessandro wasn’t taking any chances with his family.
The house and yard were clear, though, the back fence in great shape and all of the windows downstairs intact and with working locks. Home was easy to protect. Watching them on the bus or at school? A lot harder, especially when the targets were seven and ten years old. And Molly was so vulnerable.
Justin was likely full of hot air, just spouting off in a rage because he could. Saying things he knew would get under Alessandro’s skin and make him crazy with worry, but Alessandro would rather be accused of smothering the kids and being overprotective, than to find out he’d been right about Justin all along.
The school bus pulled to an idling stop in front of the house, and he sat up straighter. Molly came off first, clutching her backpack in front of her like a shield. She didn’t look scared, though. Tony got off a few paces behind, his pack slung over one shoulder. They walked down the stone path to the porch, not noticing him sitting there until they were almost on top of him.
“Hi, Alè,” Molly said.
“Hey yourself, squirt.” His smile was genuine, and she smiled back.
“I got an A on my spelling test.”
“That’s terrific. I was never a very good speller.”
“My teacher says I’m really good at it. I always get A’s in spelling.”
“Spelling is for sissies,” Tony said in a mocking tone that made Molly’s face crumple. She turned and fled into the house.
“What the hell, Tony?” Alessandro asked.
“What?” He painted on the perfect picture of innocence. “What’d I do?”
“Don’t make fun of her for doing good in school. Would you like it if she made fun of you for getting a good grade?”