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“We’ll handle it,” I said softly, sagging a little. I felt the heat blow out of me and all I wanted to do was sit down and bury my head under my arms.
“Yeah, we will,” he said, and gave me a look before he stormed off. I watched him go, then sat back down at the table and leaned back in the chair, chin tilted up to the ceiling.
Bret couldn’t handle bullies. I should’ve realized that from the start. He wouldn’t respond well to anyone that wanted to push us around, even if they were dangerous. He grew up with a bully once—and I bet he’d never let one dictate his life ever again.
That could be a problem. An abusive dad was horrible—but a violent gangster was something else entirely.
Zeke might try to murder us both if we’re not careful.
9
Bret
I knew I should’ve toned back my anger and been more diplomatic. I knew men like Zeke, had grown up with one, and met others throughout my time in the industry. And yet I still couldn’t seem to keep it together.
The way he looked around like he owned the place made me want to smash my fist through my pompous face. Except he was clearly too much of a coward to come alone, and had to bring his massive bodyguard.
Not that I would’ve done anything without the monster there, but still. Zeke was the sort of man that talked a massive game, and did nearly nothing to back it up. I was sure that if we pushed back, sooner or later he’d give up and move on to a softer target.
That was how bullies functioned. They looked for the weak and the willing. They found people that couldn’t defend themselves, and then took advantage of them. Zeke was a parasite, a little pathetic man baby that couldn’t take care of himself, and had to leech off of what we were doing in order to make himself feel big.
I hated him. I despised men like him. And I wished I could do something other than rage about it.
Because ultimately, I’d do what Jude wanted, even if I thought it was the wrong move. I couldn’t alienate her, not right now. Our relationship was so tenuous, and if I wanted things to move forward, then I had to play nice.
The next morning, I met Jude outside of her apartment. She got in my truck and we headed out to the factory. She held a paper cup of steaming coffee and sipped it quietly, looking out the window, and didn’t speak for the first half of the drive.
“I keep thinking about something,” I said, watching the road ahead of me.
“Yeah?” she asked, without looking over. “What’s that?”
“The big guy,” I said. “Steroids, you think? Or all natural?”
She snorted. “All natural. He was half fat.”
“Yeah, but that’s how the big scary guys all look,” I said, tilting my head. “The real lean and cut guys aren’t as strong, actually.”
“Good to know, I guess.”
“Seriously,” I said, “what do you think? Zeke’s got to be full of shit. And there’s some part of me that thinks the big guy was an actor.”
“You think he hired someone to play his bodyguard?” she asked, and laughed a little. “That’d be clever.”
“Right? Get some massive guy to stand behind you and lurk? It’s a great move.” I shook my head and took the exit toward the Boulevard. “But I don’t know. Zeke doesn’t seem like the thinking type.”
“He did marry Lady Fluke,” she said softly and stretched her legs. The sun rose over I-95, making the tractor trailers glisten like silver. “I wonder what she saw in him.”
“You remember being young and idealistic,” I said, smiling. “I seem to recall a girl that thought she would one day be a pop star.”
“I still think that,” she said. “I just haven’t gotten my big break yet. You’ll see.”
“Right, totally, except I think you have to be able to sing to be a pop star, but that’s only a guess.”
“No way,” she said, “not these days. All you need is a nose for controversy and good stylists. I’ve got one of the two.”
“We’ll get the second then. I’m sure I know some good stylists.”
She laughed and stifled a yawn as I spotted the factory up ahead. It was good, chatting with her like we used to. In the old days, we’d spend so much time together after school talking about friends and classes and our parents, daydreaming about what we’d do in the future, talking about everything we thought of and more. I’d never met anyone I could talk to like Jude, not before that and not since. Part of me didn’t know what a special thing I had with her—and in the years since I left, I’d kicked myself a thousand times for walking away, even if I had good reasons.
