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“I know,” he repeated. “I realize that it’s a problem, and I’ll address it.”
“You do that.” I stood up and reached for my phone and keys that were on the coffee table. “What time do you have to be at work?”
He looked at his watch, the watch face resting on the inside of his right wrist. “In sixty-seven minutes. My shift starts at seven. I have to be there at six forty-three, or I’ll be late. Meaning I have to be leaving here at…”
I rolled my eyes. He continued to give me every single detail, explaining why and when he’d have to leave.
Bayou was very literal. He’d always been that way.
Honestly, there were several quirks about Bayou that were odd as well. That was why, I knew, Brielle and he had hit it off as well as they did. It was also why Bayou was so protective of Brielle. She was different, just like he was. And he knew what it was like to be picked on.
I was a very good fighter. I hadn’t learned that particular skill because I’d wanted to learn how to fight. I’d learned it because I’d had to protect Bayou and Brielle since I was at an impressionable age.
Nobody picked on them when I was around and didn’t pay the price for it.
“Do you want to go to breakfast?” I asked.
He grimaced. “I was meeting Brie for breakfast.”
I shook my head. “Then I’ll let you do that on your own. Let me know how it goes.”
“You can come, and I’ll have that particular discussion with her after you leave,” he offered.
I thought about that for a few minutes and then nodded my head. “I can do that.”
***
“I need to order a platter of waffles and that fruit stuff that comes with my meal on the side,” I told our waitress thirty-eight minutes later. “And can you get me a vanilla latte, half shot, as well? All of it to go?”
The waitress batted her eyes at me.
“Of course,” she said. “I’d love to.”
I waited until she was walking away to turn back to Brielle, who’d asked me a question before the waitress had come up, offering us the check.
“I’m sorry, what did you ask?” I wondered.
Her face was mutinous. “Before you so rudely interrupted me to order food for her, I was saying that I have an art exhibit on Thursday. You should come.”
I was already shaking my head. “I can’t. I’m leaving Friday morning, and I want to spend the night with Pru before I leave. I’m sorry.”
I’d been to countless shows of Brielle’s, and honestly, I hated them. They were stuffy exhibits that really did nothing for me. I was always supportive of her work, but there were only so many art shows I could go to and pretend that I cared.
And I’d much rather spend that night alone with Pru, and I thought she’d like that, too.
She’d already mentioned to me that she was going to reschedule their usual family dinner that they had that day so that she could spend it with me. Why would I want to ruin her free night with an art exhibit that we wouldn’t like? Not to mention, I couldn’t afford half the shit in that place.
I always felt like a piece of trash when I walked through those doors.
“You’re saying you’d rather spend your time with someone you just met rather than your cousin?” Brielle asked for clarification.
I shrugged. “You don’t talk to me at your art shows anyway.”
I hadn’t missed that part.
I didn’t know if it was because she was embarrassed of Bayou and me, or because she was honestly just working the room and knew that we wouldn’t care if she talked to us or not.
Whatever the reason, I didn’t like going to them, and she wouldn’t even have noticed if I was there or not anyway.
“You’ve gone to every one of them,” she pouted.
“Actually,” Bayou pointed out. “He’s gone to everyone that he could. I, on the other hand, have gone to every one of them. Except for this week. I have a meeting at the prison with someone from the state. I also have an interview for a new nurse. She couldn’t do it any other time, so I’m going to have to miss also.”
Brie’s eyes filled with tears, but they no longer affected me.
Brie’s tears might’ve affected me when we were in high school, but she used them as a weapon in her carefully concealed arsenal. Lying, manipulation—especially the tears—were all a part of her weapons base, and she knew how to use them.
Those weapons worked on most people. They didn’t work on Bayou and me any longer. Though, Bayou pretended that they did because it amused him to do so.
Brielle started to get mad when the tears didn’t affect either one of us, but that anger slid right off her face the moment the two guys walked in the door.
