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“Whoa.” Zellman drew up short.
Neon orange lights were everywhere. Lining the bowling lanes, under every shelf that the bowling balls were on, under all of the counters. There was so much orange that no other lights were needed. I’d been in here just today and hadn’t noticed the decorations, but now there was a giant witch hanging over the lanes. A huge squid looked like it was coming down from the ceiling, set above the cash register. There were spider webs all over. A small claw machine game was filled to the brim with candy bars.
A guy was behind the register, someone I’d never seen before. He hadn’t seen me either. There was no recognition when we stepped up and asked for a lane. I had called ahead, but the line was busy.
The guy frowned at me. “We won’t have an opening for another hour.”
Zellman frowned. “Fuck that. There’s two open right now.” He gestured to the far end.
“They’re reserve—”
“Let them have one.” Brock was coming down from the direction of the offices. He was behind the counter and he nodded at me. “This is Monroe. She works the day hours.”
The guy blinked, staring at me. “Whoa. Hey! You’re Bren Bren?”
“Uh…”
Zellman started laughing. “Bren Bren! Classic. Good thing you’re behind that counter. You’ll still have your head attached.”
I hit his chest. “Zellman.”
He didn’t react, just moved out of the way and put some cash on the counter. “For the lane. Thank you, sir.”
The guy shrugged, taking the cash. He filled out shoe orders and moved down the counter to help a couple of ladies from The View. I was assuming the girl in dreadlocks was Whoopi.
“These are your friends, Bren?”
Brock hadn’t moved away. He was eyeing Cross, who was standing behind me, with interest. Jordan was following Zellman looking for their bowling balls. Or I should correct that Zellman was looking, taking out a ball, testing it, giving it to Jordan. Jordan stood there, holding the ball. I had a feeling Jordan didn’t know where he was or what he was doing.
“Yeah,” Cross was saying over my shoulder, his chest touching my back. “We live together.”
Cross’ tone was noticeably cold.
I turned, frowning. His gaze was locked on Brock.
Brock was nodding. He was dressed more normal, in a Henley shirt and jeans. He said to me, jerking his head, “It was nice to meet your friends. I’m at the end of the bar if you need anything.” He gestured to the worker. “That’s Trundle. His first name is Justin, but just call him Trundle.”
Trundle was coming back to us, a little grin on his face. He was a bigger guy, in a black t-shirt that had an orange ghost on it, and khaki pants.
Pretty sure the weed smell was coming from him.
That, and his dilated eyes.
“Heya there. Sorry I didn’t put two and two together. My sister is Hawk.”
“Really?” Hawk hadn’t mentioned her family.
He nodded, his hand resting on the counter and starting to beat out a rhythm. “Older. She’s mentioned you and I should’ve known. Said you were hella hot, a tough bitch. Her words. That’s a compliment from my sis. If she mentions you, she either hates your guts or likes you.”
“Older sister?”
He nodded, his head and neck were so relaxed, it was like he was bouncing it up and down or like one of those bobble head toys. “Yeah, and hey, I don’t know if you guys are legal, but on the down-low, I can give you a soda with an extra kick.” He winked on the last word, his eyes jerking toward Brock. “Just don’t let Brock know. Bounty hunters and all, he looks down on that shit, but if Hawkie likes you, I figure you’re good people.”
Cross’ hand came to my hip. “Thank you.” He guided me away and moved behind me.
It was after we chose our balls and were on our lane when Cross sank down next to me. “That Brock guy was scoping us out. Should we be aware of something?”
I paused in the middle of tying my bowling shoes. “Huh?”
Cross nodded at him, his arm brushing against mine. “He’s watching us now.”
I straightened, seeing what he was talking about.
Brock was at the end of the bar, a pile of papers in front of him, but he was staring at us. At my own look, he didn’t turn away. A drink was in front of him, his phone on the counter. He had a faraway expression on his face.
I’d told the guys about my coworkers. Cross knew that Brock was more or less the leader of the entire team. I’d yet to meet Bonbon, thankfully. According to Bonnie, her daughter had decided to move to Florida. No one knew why, but there’d been a lot of cursing that morning, and a few cheers from others. But back to what the guys knew about my co-workers. They knew everything.
