“What errand we running?” he asked.
I told him about Sissy’s place.
“Holy shit. Sure I’ll go with you,” he told me.
“Thanks, Riles.”
We ate lunch, we chatted, he teased me (as usual). I made him laugh (as usual). Nothing weird, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to make this seem in any way other than our normal friendship. Nothing.
After we were done, he drove me to Sissy’s and we inspected the damage using the key I still had after pocketing it last night.
“Holy shit,” Riley repeated his words of earlier, looking around while standing in the living room.
Holy shit was right. The place was a mess, the front window and door were boarded, debris everywhere. I started to get the shakes, for more reasons than just seeing the devastation an AK-47 could do. Flashback City.
Riley put an arm around me and guided me out. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“Sissy’s going to freak,” I told him.
“Sissy’s going to freak,” he replied.
“I think this is a processed cookie-type food moment.”
“Ava, no moment is a processed cookie-type food moment. This is, however, a shot of tequila-type moment.”
He was not wrong.
We went to Reiver’s, a bar on South Gaylord that was close to Sissy’s place. It had been there forever and was decorated entirely in wood. They had kickass black bean dip there but I did not suggest this to Riley who would likely find that suggestion a disappointing testament to lack of motivation for healthy living mojo.
I had a shot of tequila, chased by a diet pop. Riley had a beer. Riley engaged me in a conversation that would take my thoughts off Sissy’s living room and what he didn’t know was my thoughts of my own mortality and plans to draw up a will, ASAP.
Eventually, I looked at my watch and gave a little scream.
“What?” Riley asked.
“It’s ten to four. Luke’s gonna be at my house at four. We gotta move,” I’d jumped off my barstool and was hopping around on my flip-flops freaked the hell out.
“Who’s Luke?” Riley was watching me closely.
“An old friend.”
His eyes narrowed. “You got a lot of them.”
“Let’s go!” I nearly shouted.
“All right, all right. Keep your pants on.’
We paid, we left, we got home too late.
I knew because the clock on the dash of Riley’s Pathfinder said it was quarter after four. I also knew because, as we rolled up to my house, Luke’s Porsche was parked there, Luke leaning against it arms crossed on his chest. He didn’t look happy and this unhappiness increased exponentially when his head turned and he saw Riley and me pulling up.
“Crap,” I whispered.
“That Luke?” Riley asked, checking him out.
“Yeah.”
“You owe him money?” Riley asked, maybe trying to be funny but his question was too close to the bone.
“Thanks for lunch, for going with me, for the tequila, everything,” I said, turning to him as I saw Luke push away from the Porsche.
“I’ll just make sure everything’s okay. He doesn’t look –”
“No!” I cried, again in a near shout.
Riley’s eyes cut to me. “I’ll just make sure everything’s okay,” Riley repeated in a tone I’d never heard him use before. He was usually laid-back. He looked not at all laid-back anymore.
Crapity, crap, crap, crap.
Riley got out. I got out. Luke met us on the sidewalk by Riley’s car, right in front of my house. Luke and Riley sized each other up. Riley was a personal trainer and Luke still looked like he could wipe the floor with him.
“You Luke?” Riley asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Yeah, you Riley?” Luke asked, even though he, likely, knew the answer too.
“Yeah.”
They stared at each other and I had visions of them wrestling to the ground in a tough guy death match and this made me ultra uncomfortable.
“I need cookies,” I blurted and both men looked at me.
Luke’s mouth twitched. Riley’s brows drew together.
“You gonna be okay with this guy?” Riley asked what I thought was a question that proved he was a lunatic.
Luckily Luke showed no reaction to this in your face question.
“Of course,” I said.
Riley looked like he didn’t believe me. Then he did the wrap his hand around my head kiss my forehead thing again but left his hand where it was and looked me in the eyes.
“See you tomorrow?” he asked softly.
I nodded.
Riley threw a scowl at Luke who was back to looking unhappy in a way that made Riley’s scowl seem amateur. He got in his Pathfinder and took off. I turned to Luke.
Now he was glaring at me.
“You have something to give me?” I asked.
“In the house.”
“Luke, I need to get some work done, I haven’t had –”
“In the house.”
Jeez.
All right, in the house if that’s what he wanted. The sooner I did what he wanted, the sooner I’d get this over with.
I stomped up to the house and let us in. I walked into the living room, threw my keys and purse on the couch and turned to Luke.
“Okay, Luke, we’re in the house,” I put my hand out, palm up. “You have something to give me?”
“Who’s that guy to you?”
“Riley?”
“No, Jack Lemmon,” he said and I couldn’t help it, I laughed mainly because it was funny.
He advanced so fast, I barely got my feet coordinated to retreat. But I did, all the way across the living room until my back hit the wall and Luke came up close. One of his hands hit the wall by my head, the other one wrapped around my waist and pulled me into his body.
I stared at him, shocked breathless at his behavior and every thought flew from my head.
“You like playin’ games?” he asked and his eyes were shining dangerously.
“No.”
“You like yankin’ men’s chains?” he asked.
Holy crap. Where was this coming from?
“No!” I shouted.
“Lose weight, get contacts, dye your hair, become a knockout and make all the men pay who wouldn’t look at you before?” he clipped.
At his words, I lost it. I mean, how dare he?
“Fuck you!” I yelled.
“Why did you come to the offices yesterday?” he asked.
“Go to hell, Lucas Stark.”
His palm pounded on the wall next to my head and his face got right in mine so he was the only thing I could see and this scared the shit out of me.