Page 107 of Jaked

Chapter 41

Skirting the low wooden bench, I edged closer to the far wall. As quietly as I could, I pushed aside some sturdy metal clothes-hangers and nestled myself in the narrow gap that I'd just made.

Through the closet wall, I heard Bishop's voice, low and dangerous. "Don't tell me you fucked her."

Instantly, heat flooded my face. Like this was any ofhisconcern.

"For the last time," Jake said, "it's none of your fucking business."

I felt myself nod. Exactly.

"Yeah?" Bishop said. "What's your storythistime? Wait. Lemme guess. She fell just happened to fall naked into your bed?" His voice rose. "Like Debbie?"

I stiffened. Debbie? Who was that?

"She's no Debbie," Jake said. "And keep it down, will ya? She's still asleep."

"I wouldn’t count on that," Bishop said.

"Trust me," Jake said. "If she slept through some asshole pounding on the door at dawn, she can sleep through anything."

"So," Bishop said, "you fuckmygirl's little sister, andI'mthe asshole?"

I rolled my eyes.Littlesister? Oh please. I wasn't twelve. I was twenty-three. Why couldn’t anyone seem to remember that?

"Yeah," Jake said. "Youarethe asshole. Because one – in case you didn't notice, she's all grown up now." His voice softened. "And two – I didn't 'fuck' her." He paused. "It was something different."

I felt myself smile.

"Like what?" Bishop said. "Another blow-job under the bleachers?"

What?

For a long moment, no one said anything. Finally, Jake broke the silence. "Get the fuck out," he said.

"You wanna make me?" Bishop asked.

"No," Jake said in an oddly controlled voice, "not with her in the next room. But Iamasking you, politely."

"You?" Bishop said. "Polite? That'll be the day."

"Look who's talking," Jake said.

"Listen," Bishop said, "I'm not trying to be a dick about it."

"Too late for that."

"But," Bishop continued, "she's not your type. I know it. You know it. So if you're just messing around…"

"So I have a type now?" Jake said. "Wanna tell me what it is?"

"Youknowwhat type it is." Bishop said. "Come on, be reasonable. Selena's worried about her."

"You aresucha pussy," Jake said.

The sentiment was so silly, I stifled a laugh. Bishop was a pussy the way cats were motorcycles.

"So what's the deal?" Jake continued. "Your fiancée says jump, and you say 'how high?' She says, 'fetch my sister,' and you say, 'yes ma'am.'"