Page 93 of Rough

I shrugged one shoulder. “Something else.”

He dropped his eyes to the ground, cleared his throat, and looked up. “See it lasting?”

“Yep.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “She isn’t anywhere near here. It’s just you and me, Peeb.” He cocked an eyebrow. “You see it lasting?”

I nodded. “Sure do.”

“Until?”

I glanced toward the shop and then at Crip. “Whether or not it lasts with her, I guess I’ll find out in time. But I’m done being the person I was. I know that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I ain’t screwing around with women like I was.”

He barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Oh really?”

“Yep.”

“And, why’s that?”

I wasn’t in the mood to tell him of the long discussion my father and I had, nor did I think that he’d believe me if I took the time to try and explain. He’d simply criticize me and laugh.

I shrugged. “Lots of reasons.”

“Like?”

“Look, Crip. I like this chick. That’s all that matters. Give me a chance.” I noticed her walking toward us, and tilted my head in her direction. “And give her one too.”

He pursed his lips and gave a shallow nod.

Tegan stopped fifteen feet or so from where we were standing and waited. He must have sensed her.

He glanced over his shoulder. “If you aren’t afraid of him, you’ve got no reason to be afraid of me,” he said flatly.

She stepped to our side and pushed her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans. It was the same nervous gesture she’s made that day on the highway after the wreck. As she forced a slight smile and swiveled her hips back and forth, he turned to face her.

“Name’s Navarro,” he said. “You can call me Crip.”

She nodded once. “Okay.”

He waited a few seconds for her to introduce herself, but she didn’t. She simply stood there and looked at him as if sizing him up. He returned her stare, stone-faced.

I’d warned Tegan of what Crip might call her, and wondered if she was reluctant to introduce herself, only to have Crip call her something else.

The stare-off continued for a few more seconds, but it seemed like forever. I tried to keep from laughing. Whichever one spoke first would be the loser. My money was on Crip walking away without another word. About the time I guessed he’d turn away, his mouth curled into a smirk.

He shook it off.

“You got a name?” he asked dryly.

“Name’s Tegan,” she said straight-faced. “But you can call me Crash.”

I tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t. As I coughed out a light laugh, he glared at me and then looked at her.

He exchanged glances between us, met her stone-faced stare, and then shook his head. “Fucking comedienne, huh?”