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“No, but…”
“Trust me,” Henri said as he released Scooter’s shirt and sat back. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
Scooter chewed on his lip for a second and then let out a sigh. “Okay, there’s one name I’ve heard him talk about. But I don’t know who it is, just that Ricky knows him.”
Henri tried to be patient as Scooter worked up the nerve to talk.
“Name’s rAz.”
Bingo. Then, to keep Scooter off his scent, Henri said, “RAz? What kind of fucking name is that?”
“I don’t know; that’s all I’ve heard. He goes to see rAz and comes back with the goods.”
As Scooter looked around nervously, Henri nodded. “Okay, okay, and you said Ricky hangs out a couple blocks over?”
“Yeah.”
“Now see, that wasn’t so hard. Was it?” Henri filed the information away for later and was about to tell Scooter to get out so they could get a bite when his phone buzzed.
Henri grabbed it from the center console, and when he saw Detective Dick’s number flash across his screen, he grimaced. Figures his timing is shit. But he needed to deal with this as soon as possible, and Henri knew there was no way in hell he was going inside now.
Instead, he fished his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans, flipped it open, pulled out a hundred, and handed it to Scooter.
“Sorry, man. I gotta bounce.”
Scooter looked at the money and shrugged. “Hey, no skin off my nose.”
“Make sure you use some of that for food. You’re cute, but you’d earn more if you had a little meat on your bones. You know, something to hang on to and all that.”
“Yeah, okay, whatever. I’m doing just fine as is, thanks.” Scooter shoved open the car door and then climbed out. After he slammed the door shut, he bent down and peered through the window. “You sure you don’t want to come in and join me?”
“Nah, I gotta go.”
Scooter’s eyes dropped to the phone in Henri’s hand, and then he smirked. “Let me guess, that’s trouble calling.”
Yeah, but not the kind of trouble I prefer.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Bailey slid into his usual booth at one of his favorite bars and scanned the weekday crowd, who were either stopping by for a drink after work or, like him, looking for a quick meal before heading in to work.
The Popped Cherry had fast become one of his and Xander’s favorite hangouts in the city. It was close to both their jobs, the food and drinks were excellent, and the staff was always friendly. Not to mention, on their third or fourth visit to the place, Bailey found out that Robbie was the night manager, something he figured he’d be able to avoid today, since he and Henri had decided to meet for a late lunch/dinner.
It was just turning four o’clock, and while Bailey had managed to get some sleep today, knowing he was going to meet Henri this afternoon had almost made him more restless than wondering if he’d ever see Henri again.
This was crazy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so…so…consumed by another person, to the point where they were intruding on every waking and sleeping hour of his day. A ridiculous smile hit his lips. He had a major crush on Henri Boudreaux.
Do people even call it that anymore? Probably not. It seemed far too innocent for how he felt about the man he was waiting to meet, but that was the only thing he could liken it to.
Henri made Bailey’s heart race, his palms sweat, and his dick so damn hard that he swore he’d gotten himself off more in the past two weeks than he ever had in his life, and that definitely made Henri crush-worthy.
Bailey glanced at his phone to check the time and told himself to stop being neurotic. He had arrived a few minutes early; Henri would be there. Then, as though Bailey had conjured him up out of thin air, the front door to the bar opened and his “date” stepped inside.
The way The Popped Cherry was laid out, there was a small landing at the front entrance as you stepped in off the street, and then there were a couple stairs down to the main bar floor, where there were a bunch of high-top tables, and the booths lined the windowed walls. The place was awesome, with its mahogany bar, burgundy and black theme, and that front entrance that Bailey couldn’t help but admire, since it showed Henri off as though he were on a fucking stage.
Dressed in boots, jeans, a white V-neck shirt, and a black motorcycle jacket that had zippers on both sleeves, Henri looked like the kind of guy your mother warned you about. Add in the confident way he held himself as he scanned everyone in the bar, and he all but melted the place to the ground with how goddamn hot he was.
