Jaded (Jaded #1)(35)

“Who’s the guy?” I gestured behind us.

“Braven Locke. Why?”

Why? Because the guy next to him was salivating just as much and I remembered seeing that same guy with Leisha. She had been blushing and had even ducked her head, flirtatiously. I wanted to know, that’s why.

“Is he friends with the other guy, the blonde?” That’s who had caused Leisha to blush.

“I guess. His name is Carlos Hunstville.” Bryce shrugged. “Why do you care?”

I shrugged and moved past him. When we got outside, I threw over my shoulder, “You’re driving.”

Bryce nodded and I sat shotgun with Harris in our backseat. Holster rode with Chet.

Bryce flipped some music on and it drowned out any conversation until he pulled into Donadeli’s small parking lot. Donadeli was a locally owned Italian deli with red plush booths and floors that had polka-dotted tiles. They specialized in meatballs, but served sandwiches to the majority of their customers. The guys’ liked the deli because they gave large helpings and Becky Lew’s crowd generally looked down their noses at the Italian eatery. It was a place to hide when the mood struck.

I liked going to Donadeli because the owner’s son had a crush on me.

“Hey Marcus,” I said warmly, sultry, as we strolled inside.

He dropped the menus from his hand and stood paralyzed for a second, which didn’t seem too far from his normal blank-eyed stare. I somewhat felt sorry for Marcus at times. He stood around five feet and nine inches. His hair were black strands that just seemed to hang off his scalp. And his eyes were always covered by his glasses. I never looked long enough to notice what color they were. Over all, Marcus was just blah and most of the time, he acted blah.

Bryce reached around me and grabbed a few before leading the way to our table.

That was another thing. We sat where we wanted. We never waited to be seated. It had annoyed the owners at first, but Marcus must’ve said something for us because they never said anything.

I lingered at the hosting table and flirted with Marcus, my normal routine. This time, I got us free breadsticks and drinks, but Marcus said we needed to pay for the entrees. He almost choked in fear as he told me this.

He put our order through while I moved to the seat across from Bryce.

They all waited until I commented with a proud smile, “Breadsticks and drinks.”

A collective ‘nice’ sounded around the table.

“And he put your orders in.”

Another collective ‘sweet’ went around.

The guys always ordered the same thing. With the quick order, we usually got our food faster than the customers who’d already ordered before us.

Just then Corrigan dropped into the one empty seat nearest the aisle. He sighed dramatically and looked irritated.

Chet, Holster, and Harris quieted.

Bryce and I shared a look before I ventured, “What’d you do?”

Corrigan ignored me and griped, “Did you order already? Where the hell are our drinks?”

“Dude,” Bryce said quietly, watching. “We just got here.”

Corrigan swore and turned his chair around to straddle it. He looked a bit frazzled, but it was the anger in his tone that made my knot of dread double in size.

“What’d you do?” I asked again.

He ignored me again and asked abruptly, “What free stuff did you get us?”

I gave him a pointed look.

“I didn’t do anything.” He cursed. “Back off.”

If anyone except Bryce had spoken to me like that, Corrigan would’ve been the first to throw a punch.

I never needed his protection before and I didn’t need it now.

I slid a knife out from the silverware wrapped in a cloth napkin and stabbed it in his chair’s cushion, right between his legs.

Corrigan yelped and jumped off the seat. Startled, he cursed some more before he settled back in his chair, now watchful.

He snapped, “What?!”

“What. Did. You. Do?”

“Are you going to jail for it?” Bryce asked instead.

“No. No jail.” Corrigan answered Bryce and looked at me. “And I’ll tell you later.

It’s not dinner talk, you know.”

Fine.

Marcus brought the drinks and two orders of breadsticks. He grabbed another

drink for Corrigan and said, with his head hung downwards, that he’d put in Corrigan’s order too.

Corrigan ignored him and downed my drink. He stood up and refilled it behind the cook’s doorway.

Marcus stood helpless behind him.

Corrigan returned to the table and sat it in front of me.

“You’re a jerk,” I murmured.

Corrigan shrugged, but he patted my knee underneath the table.

“So we got a game going.” Chet spoke up and the conversation was off and running. Corrigan lapped it up. He wanted a distraction from whatever he didn’t want to talk about.

A few minutes later, Marcus brought the drinks and our food wasn’t too far behind. I sat back and poked at my salad as the guys talked more about soccer and Harris’ party. They started planning an elaborate drinking game that consisted of a chart with relays when my phone rang.

I didn’t recognize the number so I answered.

“Hi, sweetie,” my mother’s sickening sweet voice drawled across the other end.