Page 5

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Brent

S he was cute when I annoyed her. I planned to keep doing it. “Pancakes,” she scoffed. “You can leave me here all you want; it would just take me longer to wait for another ride.” She challenged me with a cocked eyebrow, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Hmm. Would hate to inconvenience that boyfriend of yours. It’s a good thing you chose right.”

Martha, the wonderfully patient woman that she was, came back around since we were the only souls in the diner this late in the evening. The drunks wouldn’t be stumbling in for another few hours, leaving me alone with my new plaything. “Any questions, sweet pea? Would you like to start with something?”

I caught the look in Martha’s eye as she glanced between us, and I knew I would be getting an ear full later.

Blondie tapped the menu. “I was just looking at the breakfast sampler. I’d love to get it, but I’ll need three extra pieces of bacon.”

Martha looked completely infatuated with her as a smile spread across her face. “A girl who knows how to eat is a girl after my own heart. I’ll get that right on for you, sweet pea.” She looked over to me. “And you, Brent?”

“Whatever she’s having,” I replied, briefly looking over the menu I’d seen a million times for dramatic effect.

She snatched the menu from my hands, and I looked up at her as if she’d offended me. Fallon gave an overly polite performance, handing her menu back with a sly smile on her face. “I’ll get those plates right out for you two lovebirds,” she said, walking away in her typical dramatic fashion.

I caught Fallon silently admiring Martha, probably hoping she could be as blunt as she was with me.

Leaning back, I lounged in my side of the booth, spreading my arms across the seat. I needed to decompress and chill after the day’s events. For good measure, I propped a foot up right next to Blondie’s thigh on her side of the booth. Some entertainment was needed to help me fucking relax.

She shoved my foot.

I grunted, peeking through my closed eyes. “I’m trying to get comfortable here, Blondie.” I let my head fully relax on the seat behind me, the vinyl squeaking under its weight.

“What puts your comfort over mine?” A slight hint of fight was in her voice.

I tried not to laugh. “Get as comfortable as you’d like. I have a few suggestions if you're privy to listen.”

She leaned over the table. “Can I ask you a question?”

Good lord she didn’t know when to stop. “You just did, babe.”

“Then, I have another,” she huffed.

“Shoot.”

She hesitated for a moment, and I thought I heard her gulp. “Why are we here? Like, together?”

“You said you were hungry. I know a place with good food. Simple.” What’s your point?

“You play baseball, right?” I could hear her leaning over more. Was she staring at me?

“Mhm.”

She pushed my foot more until it fell off the seat entirely. I peeked at her from my relaxed position, noticing her body language was fully invested in me. I guess I’ll oblige , I thought, sitting back up to face her.

“Nepo baby or scholarship?” she prodded.

What were we playing, twenty questions? “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Touche.” She took another sip of her coffee.

I accepted her challenge. Girls never gave me much of a fight, and she was just interested enough that I could probably have her eating out of my hand in no time. I figured I would hit her with something she least expected.

“Not everyone on the sports team is a scholarship recipient, and not everyone at the school is blessed with nepotism. Are you beating around the bush trying to figure me out? If so, you’ll have to give up just as much information as you’d like to pry from me. Starting with my question. Does your boyfriend know you’re here?” I laid my chin on my knuckles, propping my head up at the table, and looking directly in those bright blue eyes.

Those eyes looked like a deer in headlights before she recomposed herself without breaking eye contact.

“Fine. Deal,” she shot back. “As for my love life, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Then who’s the sucker following you around like a lost puppy?”

“None of your business,” she spat.

“Are you a nepo baby or scholarship kid?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Nepotism. You?” I wondered if she would lie about herself. I knew who she was, but that was neither here nor there. So far, she told the truth.

“Same.” I took a sip of my coffee, clacking my rings on the handle. Her gaze shifted to my hand, probably curious about them. I wore two rings on my right hand and one on my left; she took full notice.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why did you bring me here?”

“For the food,” I replied between sips of bitter coffee. “Why did you come?”

“For the food,” she parroted.

Martha saved my life by interrupting us with multiple large plates of food. She looked between us and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “You two look like you’re in a heated debate. I hope it's not about bacon or sausage, because I brought both.” She set them down and gave me a warning glare.

It was true I never brought a girl here, and Martha knew my reputation. I wasn’t a good guy by any standard. Answering to why I brought Fallon here would be a future Brent problem. I waved off the look Martha gave me.

“Thank you Martha,” we said in unison.

“You’re welcome, my darlings. Eat up and I’ll bring some pie afterward.”

Fallon took in the full display of food and she looked like a kid in a candy store. A wave of softness came over her face as she looked over everything displayed in front of her, and I wondered how much she actually liked diner breakfast foods. Her eyes grazed over it all–pancakes, bacon, eggs, sausage, and hashbrowns were prominently displayed with fruit and Texas toast.

She immediately started in. Shoving a piece of bacon into her mouth, she asked, “What year are you?”

“Junior,” I replied, poking around my plate to stack up my fork with a large bite.

“I’m a sophomore.”

I looked up at her. “Yeah, I know.”

Her eyes grew suspicious. “And how do you know?”

“It’s tattooed on your forehead.” A grin appeared on my face while I took a bite of the food.

She grunted. “Asshole should be on yours.”

“Tell me about yourself,” I said, meeting her eye contact again, gesturing for her to go on with more information. I wanted to know more about my new toy.

“Nuh uh. You first. You said it yourself. Question for a question.” She pointed her fork at me like she wanted to stab me.

“I grew up with my grandfather.” How many questions did she even have?

We sat in my favorite diner going back and forth, spilling tidbits of information about ourselves in this cat and mouse game. She thought she was the cat, but really, she was the mouse.

“I grew up with my mom until she died. Then I lived with my shitty aunt until I was eighteen.”

Curious. “How did she die?”

She looked at me with warning. “You first on the info spill.”

Bringing up my childhood trauma, I said, “My mom dumped me on my grandfather as a baby, and then she killed herself.”

Her expression was a mix of surprise and empathy. “Oh, I didn’t realize... My mother passed from cancer. I’m sorry to hear about your mom.”

“Yours too,” I said, keeping my cool by taking a sip of coffee. It wasn’t every day that I told the world that I was a bastard whose mother killed herself. Never meeting her was bad enough, but The Dictator never spoke a word about her to me. It was just something that never got talked about. Martha was the one who spilled the beans on my mother’s suicide when I was a pre-teen.

Martha had been with my family a long time, and she was like my mother. So I considered my biological mother a moot point since I couldn’t ask her any questions anyway. The table grew silent as Fallon devoured most of her meal and I didn’t press any further. Couldn’t scare her away on the first date after all.

Trying to lighten the mood, I blocked her from taking the last sausage link with my fork. I picked it up and took a bite out of it.

Her mouth fell open in disbelief that I would take the last one. She tried to play it off by going for the grapes, but I offered the other half from my fork.

She went to take it off with her hand, but I stopped her. “Nope, give me that mouth.”

“I am not letting you put a sausage in my mouth, you heathen,” she seethed.

I chuckled. “It’s that or nothing, Blondie.” My lips curled into a smile, trying to hold the fork back out to her.

“Then I don’t want it,” she said, waving over at Martha. “Miss Martha, can I get some pie, pretty please?”

She hollered back over the counter, “Which one, sweet pea?”

“An assortment!” A true smile spread over her lips.

Martha made haste with bringing out some initial pieces of pie. I’ve eaten almost everything here at one point or another, but usually wandered back to my usual plate. “These are our most popular, and Brent’s personal favorites, but I’ll be back with a sample of all we have so you can decide for yourself.” She flicked her gaze at me in a curious manner. Again, I knew I’d have to deal with the twenty questions about Fallon later.

She hurried away and Fallon looked back to the table, a sadness washing over her face. Did she hate these flavors?

“What are you pouting about?” I flicked the sausage I teased her with onto her plate hoping her awkward sad face would stop.

She sighed and pushed out her bottom lip even more. “I can’t bring this home. We rode on your motorcycle.”

That’s what makes you depressed? “You can get delivery next time, you know?”

Her eyes lit up. “Next time?”

I finished my coffee before responding, waving Martha back over for a refill. “Oh, yeah. You’ll turn into a proper addict for this place.”

The rest of the pie as promised appeared on the table while my coffee got a refill. “Hope you enjoy, sweet pea.” Martha didn’t bother to look at me whatsoever.

Fallon’s gaze flicked between me and Martha, probably wondering what the backstory was here. It looked like she was wanting to ask, but decided against it. Not asking was the better move–I didn’t want to get into my life story with the girl I just met when I knew Martha was going to hound me about it later.

Pulling out my wallet in an effort to appear like I was at least making good on a first date, I asked, “What’s the damage?”

Of course, Blondie reached into her purse as well. Martha looked between the two of us once again and held up a hand. “It’s... on the house tonight.” She disappeared into the kitchen, probably to spill the news about the infamous Brent bringing in a girl to the diner on a random evening. It was out of character for me, and I would have a nice round of questions to try to skirt.

Fallon laid three hundred dollar bills on the table before diving right in, taking a bite of each piece of pie laid out before her. I flipped through my bills and matched her bid.

“Baller,” I challenged her.

“Could say the same about you,” she scoffed, taking in a bite of the blueberry pie. “Looks like Miss Martha can enjoy the morning off after we terrorized her.”

Laughing, I also took my fork to the piece of blueberry pie. I let her eat her fill of whatever her heart desired and hoped to God Martha didn’t come back around to yank me into the back for an interrogation.

After a beat comfortable silence of watching her eat, I glanced at the time on my watch. I needed to decompress before Reaper got back to me with who knows what in his report.. At least I could count on him for a good clean up job. The Dictator would be expecting me with the information we got soon.

I leaned forward, closing the distance between us just enough to drop my voice to a low, husky whisper. “Ready to go, Blondie?” I wrapped a strand of her pale blonde hair around my finger, holding eye contact with her. She looked nervous to be that close to me and her breath shortened just enough for me to notice.

It was cute before she pulled back and tried to compose herself, rubbing her newly formed goosebumps. “Only if you promise me delivery next time.”

Cocking my head to the side in curiosity, I gave her a half smile. She held out her pinky to me in an attempt to seal the promise. Oh, if she knew the things that were included in the promises I made... I latched her pinky with mine and promptly dragged her out the front door–not giving Martha the chance to flag me down.

“Hey!” she protested, pulling her finger from mine.

“I needed a smoke,” I said, catching her pinky with mine again. She wouldn’t get away from me that easily.

Popping a cigarette in my mouth one handed, she watched me with her mouth open again. If she wasn’t careful, I’d take full advantage of it right there in the open parking lot. She watched me with such strange curiosity as I lit it up and took a long first drag to clear my mind of the day’s events.

Little did she know, I didn’t plan to leave just yet. Anytime I went for a bite at the diner, I liked to truly clear my mind at the nearby cliffside. Some days I contemplated jumping off and other days I just liked the view. Maybe I’ll jump off and drag you with me , I thought.

Still holding onto that soft little finger of hers, I dragged her across the parking lot and into the forested wall that had a trail leading to my serene cliffside. The thick foliage concealed us and she was quietly trailing behind me while the only sounds were the crunching beneath our feet and the crackle of the cigarette I was smoking. What? No smart ass comments?

We made it. The clear opening with that view from the cliff I loved so much. The expanse of the night sky opened up, the stars scattered across the black like a million tiny lights. Below us, there was very little light pollution to detract from the gorgeous wide open sky.

This was my favorite spot in the whole world, and she better not ruin it.

I let go of her and stepped closer to the edge–today made me want to jump. I finished off my cigarette and flicked it over the edge, turning my head up to the sky to beg the universe to ease my stress.

I took a deep breath of the cool night air. “It’s peaceful up here.”

She only made a low grunt in response. I supposed she was nervous about being at the cliff’s edge with me–I did think about throwing us over the edge. Her head tilted up to view the sky with me and we sat in silence for a while.

Did she know what my day was like to need to come out here and settle my thoughts?

Not looking forward to going back to the place where my grandfather resided, the urge to jump became stronger. The briefing and report from Reaper weighed heavy on my mind. Something about this betrayal involving a powerful man... I was sure it would become a predicament.

Content with the time I spent in silence, I flipped around with a devious look on my face and grabbed her hand again.

“What now?” she protested.

Saying nothing, I dragged her back to my bike. What I wanted to say was “let’s fuck in the forest,” but she might have jumped of her own volition.

“Let’s get you home, Blondie.” I plopped the helmet on her head and wrapped my jacket around her body. While I wasn’t the most gentlemanly man on the planet, I wasn’t going to let her freeze to death in that skimpy dress after the temperature plummeted over the last couple of hours.