Fighting Shadows (On the Ropes #2)(21)

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think of boxing as something you lost. It’s not like I said, ‘Hey, don’t you miss that feeling when you put on new socks?’ Now that would have been rude.” I shrugged. “Boxing’s still there. Sucks you can’t compete anymore, but punching bags don’t discriminate, do they?”

Flint opened his mouth to respond but quickly shut it.

“Anyway. Quarry told me you didn’t go to gym anymore, and I was just curious why you’d quit something you loved.”

“Jesus, how much has Q been running his mouth?”

“We’re both talkers.” I smiled. “Look, I wasn’t trying to upset you or anything. Sorry if it came off that way. I’ve just never known anyone who was paralyzed before. It’s kinda cool.”

He barked out a laugh. “Cool is not exactly the word I would use to describe paralysis.”

“Well, then maybe you’re using the wrong words.”

Flint didn’t respond, but he did go back to staring, so I went back to uncomfortably pretending to be enthralled with my fancy sauce. After tearing the packet of mayo open, I drizzled a design over the ketchup and then swirled it together.

“Here.” Quarry set two milkshakes down on the table.

Thank God!

“Dude, that bed at Debbie’s is kicking my ass.” He cracked his neck to the left, and even though I was only watching Flint out of the corner of my eye, I recognized the exact moment he saw it.

So fast that even I was impressed, Flint snaked a hand out and grabbed the front of Quarry’s shirt, catching him completely off guard. Q toppled forward.

“What the f*ck is that?” Flint boomed, pulling the neck of Quarry’s shirt down to reveal his back.

“Let me go.” Quarry fought to get on his feet.

It was magic, really. Flint might have been older, but Quarry definitely had him in size. But even as Q struggled against his grasp, Flint effortlessly pinned him as he inspected his neck and back.

“Tell me that’s fake. I swear to God, Q. Tell me it’s fake.”

“It’s fake!” he yelled.

Flint shook his head but finally released him.

Quarry straightened his shirt and glanced around the empty restaurant. “Yes. If, by fake, you mean a permanent tattoo, then yes. It’s fake.”

I giggled as Quarry jumped back a step when Flint’s eyes almost bulged from his head.

“You’re fourteen!” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“And?”

“And nothing . . . You’re fourteen. You can’t get a tattoo.”

“Well, I didn’t know that, Daddy. Guess I really shouldn’t have gotten two, then.” He took another step away, flashing Flint a mischievous grin.

I desperately tried to contain my laughter. The last thing I needed was Flint turning that scary gaze on me. I didn’t have the force field Quarry so obviously possessed.

Flint suddenly rolled forward an inch, and it caused Quarry to flinch. That was it. I lost the battle with my lungs. I slapped a hand over my mouth as a loud laugh escaped.

Thankfully, Flint didn’t notice—or he at least opted to keep the lasers he was shooting from his eyes from giving me a new haircut.

“Who the hell would tattoo a fourteen-year-old kid? Christ, Q. You probably have hepatitis now.”

“Dustin Prince is eighteen, thank you very much.”

Oh f*ck.

Flint curled his lip. “Who the hell is Dustin Prince?”

As Quarry pulled his wallet out, I nervously looked around the room for some imaginary backup or, at the very least, an emergency exit door.

I jumped to my feet. “I’m gonna use the restroom.”

And then enter the witness protection program.

Before I had the chance to walk away, Quarry dropped the bomb. “Ash got me a fake ID.”

Flint swung his angry gaze my way. “Excuse me?”

“Uhhh . . .” I stalled, lifting my hand to fix my hair and flipping Quarry off in the process. “In my defense, I just thought he was going to buy lottery tickets,” I lied, punctuating it with an innocent grin Flint seemed immune to.

“Who in God’s name would actually believe he’s eighteen?”

“Oh, they don’t really care. They just needed the ID to make it look legit. And no hep C, either. The shop is really clean. They owed me a favor, so I made sure they took extra-special care of him,” I tried to explain, but if Flint’s reaction was any indication I had just dug myself even deeper.

“You. Took. Him?” he asked very slowly.

“Maybe,” I squeaked and then followed Quarry’s example of backing away.

“You took a kid to get a tattoo?” He moved toward me.

“Possibly.” I once again stepped away. I didn’t think I was in any real danger, but judging by the vein bulging on his forehead, his head was very close to exploding—and I didn’t want to be in range when it did. Blood wasn’t my thing.

“Calm the hell down,” Quarry said, stepping between us. “This kid at school was going to do it for me, but Ash talked me into going to her place instead. You should see the sweet-ass design the guy drew for my back. This is just the start.”

“I hope it was worth it. You’re gonna look like Mabie when Till finds out.”