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There’s a snort behind us.
“Trying to be just like your boyfriend, Leo? Good luck with that,” the guy in line behind us scoffs.
“Shut up, Todd!” Leo says, spinning around to look at him and almost knocking both coffees over with his backpack.
I put a hand on Leo’s twitching shoulder and turn to the kid behind us. I stand, looking at him. It’s the same vaguely threatening, totally unimpressed look that I gave Will last night, and this kid folds almost immediately, looking down at the expensive shoes I’m sure his parents bought him. Now that’s what’s supposed to happen.
“Excuse us,” I say calmly, sliding money across the counter to Marjorie and taking the coffees. I walk out the door, certain Leo will follow me.
“Ha!” Leo says, grinning, elbowing me as we get outside. “That was awesome. You just looked at him and he practically shit his pants. How’d you do that? I mean, you’re not even that big a guy and everyone’s terrified of you. You’ve got to teach me that.”
I decide to ignore the part about everyone being terrified of me, because I don’t even want to know.
“Well, first of all, you have to believe, one hundred percent, that you could take them out if it came down to a fight,” I tell him. “If you don’t believe it, they won’t either. That kind of confidence does 80 percent of the work for you. You look sure you could kick their ass, they’re gonna be thinking they have something to worry about. Second, you have to not give a shit. And it’s got to come from the inside out. If you’re faking it, they’ll know. Then the rest of it’s just staring at them. If you know you could win a fight and you don’t give a shit, the stare will do the rest of the work for you. Here, show me.”
I square off with Leo, taking his coffee. He’s only an inch or so shorter than me, but being that skinny, you’ve got to look all kinds of threatening to be taken seriously. I remember.
Leo laughs nervously, scuffing the toe of his Vans on the pavement.
“I’ve, um, never been in a fight.”
“What about the day I met you?” I’d kind of assumed that getting picked on was a regular occurrence for him, but maybe not.
“Oh, yeah, well. I’ve gotten my ass kicked, sure. But I’ve never actually thrown a punch.” He blushes and his eyelashes lower.
“Well, you’ve done the hardest part. It’s a lot easier to hit someone than it is to take a punch. I can teach you, if you want.” Wait, no. Is that irresponsible? But the kid’s got to learn to take care of himself or who knows what might happen to him.
“Whoa, really? Hell yes. Teach me!” He does what is, perhaps, supposed to be some kind of martial arts punch-kick combination and nearly takes out both coffees again as he lurches toward me, light brown hair falling into his eyes.
“All right, Karate Kid. Some other time, though. If anyone sees us I’m going to look like I’m corrupting a minor.”
“I’m not a minor; I’m eighteen. Hey! Wasn’t his name Daniel?”
“Who?”
“The Karate Kid!”
“Call me Daniel-san and live to regret it,” I tell him with a growl.
I hand him his coffee and we keep walking. My phone rings and my heart lurches when I see that it’s Rex.
“Sorry,” I say to Leo and wave the phone, turning my back to him.
“Hi,” I say.
“Daniel.” Rex’s deep voice makes my heart pound. “I need to talk to you.” I don’t even realize my hand’s in a fist until I hear my knuckles crack.
“Mmhmm.”
“Listen, about Will. He showed up last night without telling me he was coming to town, okay. And you don’t have to worry about him. Not at all.”
“Look, Rex, it’s not a good time to talk right now, okay? I’m with Leo and I’m about to go to my office. Can we talk about it later?”
Rex’s voice is clipped when he answers. Annoyed? Anxious? I’m not sure, but I know I’m both.
“Yeah, of course,” he says. “Can you come over tonight? After you’re done with work? I’ll make us some dinner.” Damn it, the magic words.
“Yeah, I guess,” I say. “Hey, how’s your head?” I try to sound casual, like I’m just checking in on a friend.
“It’s much better. Thank you.” I can hear the smile in his voice and the knot in my stomach loosens a little. “Tonight,” he says again, as if he’s afraid I won’t remember. “Whenever you’re done, just come on over. You can work here, if you want. I’ll be home by three.”
“Okay,” I say again.
“Oh, and Daniel, I, um, I have the Internet—you know, in case you weren’t sure whether you could work here today because you need it. I have it now, so….” He sounds a little embarrassed.
