Zip, Zero, Zilch
Page 10
“What are they doing there?”
He chuckles. “Right now, they’re grinding on the dance floor. It’s date night.”
“Where’s Tuesday?” Tuesday is their daughter.
“With Paul and Friday. Where else?”
I swear to God, Paul and Friday should just turn their apartment into a daycare center. “I’m on the way.”
He hangs up on me. I hate it when he does that.
***
The music is thumping so loud that the street vibrates with it as I get close to the club. Bounce is the local hang-out, and it’s always busy. I used to be a bouncer here and I loved every second of it. I pass by the line waiting to get inside, and bump knuckles with Ford, who is managing the line all by himself. He lets me crutch my way right past him.
I see Pete and Edward, and Edward is talking to a pretty little blonde. She asks him to dance, and he shakes his head. She tries to pull him out onto the floor, but he won’t go.
Pete shoves his shoulder and points him in the direction of the dance floor. The dude is never going to get laid if he won’t participate in the game. I walk up, introduce myself, and suggest that he buy the pretty lady a drink instead. He blushes, but she nods, all smiles, and he goes to order a fruity drink for her. She looks me up and down and her eyes narrow.
“Aren’t you—” she starts, but I put my finger to my lips to shush her.
“I’m just a guy who wants to get a drink.” I really don’t want anyone to know that I play pro ball. Not tonight.
She nods, but her eyes are bright all of a sudden. She wraps her fingertips around my bicep and squeezes. I lift her hand from my body and put it back at her side. “No thanks,” I say.
She huffs.
I point toward Edward. “Go talk to Edward.”
“I’d rather talk to you.” She bats her heavily coated lashes.
I narrow my eyes at her. “He’s available. I’m not.”
She lifts her pointer finger and draws a circle on my inner arm. My skin crawls. Edward comes back with her drink, and she reaches to take it from him. I block him and take it myself. I tap a pretty little brunette on the shoulder and say, “My friend here wanted to buy you a drink.”
The brunette’s cheeks grow rosy and she looks up at Edward from beneath lowered lashes. “Thanks,” she says.
Edward looks confused, but he forgets all about the blonde when the brunette sticks out her hand and introduces herself.
The blonde huffs away.
“See?” Pete says. “This is why I needed you.”
I shrug. “You could have done that yourself.”
I put both my crutches in one hand and hop over to a barstool. Abby, one of my oldest and dearest friends, is behind the counter, so I bang on the bar. Loudly. She looks up at me and scowls. But then she realizes who it is and gets up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.
“Long time no see,” she chirps. She pours a draft and puts it in front of me. “On the house.” Now that I have enough money to buy my own beer, people want to give them to me. I’ll never understand that.
Abby is married to Ford, the bouncer at the door. They’ve been together for a long time.
“How’s the leg?” she asks.
“Better.” I can’t say more than that.
“Hey, are you still baking?” she asks, grinning at me.
“Depends on what you want.” I steal a cherry from a bowl on her counter and toss it into my mouth.
“I need about four dozen of those red velvet cupcakes.”
“When?”
“Sunday?”
I nod. “I can do it.” I’ve been itching to bake something, anyway.
She kisses my cheek again. “I’ll call you.” Someone smacks the other end of the bar and she spins around. “If you touch my fucking bar one more time like that…” I can’t hear the rest of it. I laugh. I love Abby.
Pete sits down beside me. “Glad you came,” he says. He points to the dance floor where Edward is slow-dancing with the brunette. Edward is so awkward that it’s almost amusing. But knowing where he came from, it’s not. Not at all. He deserves some happiness.
Suddenly, two guys push through the crowd on the dance floor and stumble to a stop in front of us. Cody has his arm around Garrett’s shoulders and they’re both breathless.
Garrett looks behind them and grimaces. “Is there a really big guy coming up behind us?” he asks me.
“Two of them,” I say. And they are big. And angry. “What did you do?”
“Apparently, they were offended by our public display of affection.” Garrett and Cody are gay and so in love that it makes my heart skip just watching them together. “Fucking homophobes,” Garrett says. He’s a little drunk. More like a lot. Because he can usually overlook stupid comments.
Pete gets up to cut the guys off before they can say anything more to Garrett and Cody. “I wish Reagan was here. She would kick their asses,” he says to me.
Before Pete can get out a word to either of them, one of them takes a swing. But Pete’s fast. He’s married to Reagan, after all, and she’s a fucking kick-ass ninja fighting machine. He has to be tough to survive her. Pete ducks, and the blow flies over his head.
I see Edward shoving through the crowd on the dance floor so he can come to help.
“Be smart, man,” I hear Pete warn.
But when alcohol flows, people lose whatever reserve they might have once had. The idiot swings again, and Pete takes him down, holding him with a knee on his back. “I’ll let you up, man, but you have to leave my friends alone,” Pete says, his chest heaving with exertion. The guy is huge. But Pete’s fast. And strong. And he has good intentions on his side.
He chuckles. “Right now, they’re grinding on the dance floor. It’s date night.”
“Where’s Tuesday?” Tuesday is their daughter.
“With Paul and Friday. Where else?”
I swear to God, Paul and Friday should just turn their apartment into a daycare center. “I’m on the way.”
He hangs up on me. I hate it when he does that.
***
The music is thumping so loud that the street vibrates with it as I get close to the club. Bounce is the local hang-out, and it’s always busy. I used to be a bouncer here and I loved every second of it. I pass by the line waiting to get inside, and bump knuckles with Ford, who is managing the line all by himself. He lets me crutch my way right past him.
I see Pete and Edward, and Edward is talking to a pretty little blonde. She asks him to dance, and he shakes his head. She tries to pull him out onto the floor, but he won’t go.
Pete shoves his shoulder and points him in the direction of the dance floor. The dude is never going to get laid if he won’t participate in the game. I walk up, introduce myself, and suggest that he buy the pretty lady a drink instead. He blushes, but she nods, all smiles, and he goes to order a fruity drink for her. She looks me up and down and her eyes narrow.
“Aren’t you—” she starts, but I put my finger to my lips to shush her.
“I’m just a guy who wants to get a drink.” I really don’t want anyone to know that I play pro ball. Not tonight.
She nods, but her eyes are bright all of a sudden. She wraps her fingertips around my bicep and squeezes. I lift her hand from my body and put it back at her side. “No thanks,” I say.
She huffs.
I point toward Edward. “Go talk to Edward.”
“I’d rather talk to you.” She bats her heavily coated lashes.
I narrow my eyes at her. “He’s available. I’m not.”
She lifts her pointer finger and draws a circle on my inner arm. My skin crawls. Edward comes back with her drink, and she reaches to take it from him. I block him and take it myself. I tap a pretty little brunette on the shoulder and say, “My friend here wanted to buy you a drink.”
The brunette’s cheeks grow rosy and she looks up at Edward from beneath lowered lashes. “Thanks,” she says.
Edward looks confused, but he forgets all about the blonde when the brunette sticks out her hand and introduces herself.
The blonde huffs away.
“See?” Pete says. “This is why I needed you.”
I shrug. “You could have done that yourself.”
I put both my crutches in one hand and hop over to a barstool. Abby, one of my oldest and dearest friends, is behind the counter, so I bang on the bar. Loudly. She looks up at me and scowls. But then she realizes who it is and gets up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.
“Long time no see,” she chirps. She pours a draft and puts it in front of me. “On the house.” Now that I have enough money to buy my own beer, people want to give them to me. I’ll never understand that.
Abby is married to Ford, the bouncer at the door. They’ve been together for a long time.
“How’s the leg?” she asks.
“Better.” I can’t say more than that.
“Hey, are you still baking?” she asks, grinning at me.
“Depends on what you want.” I steal a cherry from a bowl on her counter and toss it into my mouth.
“I need about four dozen of those red velvet cupcakes.”
“When?”
“Sunday?”
I nod. “I can do it.” I’ve been itching to bake something, anyway.
She kisses my cheek again. “I’ll call you.” Someone smacks the other end of the bar and she spins around. “If you touch my fucking bar one more time like that…” I can’t hear the rest of it. I laugh. I love Abby.
Pete sits down beside me. “Glad you came,” he says. He points to the dance floor where Edward is slow-dancing with the brunette. Edward is so awkward that it’s almost amusing. But knowing where he came from, it’s not. Not at all. He deserves some happiness.
Suddenly, two guys push through the crowd on the dance floor and stumble to a stop in front of us. Cody has his arm around Garrett’s shoulders and they’re both breathless.
Garrett looks behind them and grimaces. “Is there a really big guy coming up behind us?” he asks me.
“Two of them,” I say. And they are big. And angry. “What did you do?”
“Apparently, they were offended by our public display of affection.” Garrett and Cody are gay and so in love that it makes my heart skip just watching them together. “Fucking homophobes,” Garrett says. He’s a little drunk. More like a lot. Because he can usually overlook stupid comments.
Pete gets up to cut the guys off before they can say anything more to Garrett and Cody. “I wish Reagan was here. She would kick their asses,” he says to me.
Before Pete can get out a word to either of them, one of them takes a swing. But Pete’s fast. He’s married to Reagan, after all, and she’s a fucking kick-ass ninja fighting machine. He has to be tough to survive her. Pete ducks, and the blow flies over his head.
I see Edward shoving through the crowd on the dance floor so he can come to help.
“Be smart, man,” I hear Pete warn.
But when alcohol flows, people lose whatever reserve they might have once had. The idiot swings again, and Pete takes him down, holding him with a knee on his back. “I’ll let you up, man, but you have to leave my friends alone,” Pete says, his chest heaving with exertion. The guy is huge. But Pete’s fast. And strong. And he has good intentions on his side.
