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“I’m not really that hungry.”
“I call bullshit. Beside
s, the grease from the griddle will set you right again.” I walked out, leaving Taylor Jane to get dressed as I paced in my kitchen waiting, drinking coffee from my Keurig. She was good about not taking her sweet ass time in the shower and we headed out of the house fifteen minutes later.
* * * * *
We exchanged a mutually pained look pulling into the police station. Damien and Kristen were already outside causing a scene, yelling, and the cop on duty, a young guy I didn’t know well returned outside, telling them to knock it off. Luckily it wasn’t Evan Rooney who was on duty at the moment. I jumped out of the truck to break it up, stepping in between them. Kristen ran over to Taylor Jane’s side, opening the door and hopping in.
“Monkey boy can sit in the back.”
“Real mature, Calloway!” Damien yelled, and I grabbed his arm, swinging him to face me.
“Get in the back and don’t taunt her the rest of today.”
“Hunter….”
“No, Damien. I’m serious. I do not want to fucking hear it this morning. You make a rude comment or tug on her hair like a fucking twelve-year-old and I will beat your ass myself.” I opened the door and let Damien fold himself up awkwardly to get in the back behind me. Grumbling, he got in the vehicle with minimal protest this time. If my truck didn’t have a super cab I wasn’t sure what I would have done.
* * * * *
Sitting down at the big table in the back of our old high school hangout together, our waitress, an elderly lady who had seen better days and cigarettes with less filters, handed us our menus.
“Hey, kids, looking properly hungover, I see.” Her smoker’s voice echoed on the mirrored diner walls.
Damien chuckled, and Kristen elbowed him, making room for Taylor Jane to sit next to her. I sat on the other side, completing our foursome.
“I want a fruit cup.”
“No way, Taylor Jane, those make you crabby and sick a second time. I’m not hauling you out of the girl’s restroom again.” I told her letting her pout it out. I hadn’t spent all last night with her in the bathroom to start all over again.
She leaned into Kristen, resting her head against her. Kristen put an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder and I felt… something akin to jealously I wasn’t used to.
“My stomach isn’t in the mood for a full meal.” She rubbed her middle tenderly, and I was sure vomiting at whatever time it was this morning made it achy.
I didn’t like how this was making me grumpy and protective, so I picked up the menu to read it over and avoid eye contact with her. Best to just do what had to be done.
“I’m ordering you pancakes. No arguments.” We practically grew up eating here at the diner, so I already knew what we were getting. After ten years, nothing really ever changed.
“And bacon, don’t forget the food of the gods,” Damien quipped as he perused the menu himself.
“Bacon Waster.” Taylor Jane mumbled to Kristen who nodded in agreement. I would never understand women.
“Bacon will grease up your stomach and the pancakes will absorb the alcohol.” I reiterated.
“Please, all of you shut up and stop talking about food.” She rested her head on the table, and Kristen leaned over to rub her back.
“Smile, T-Rex,” Damien quipped.
“Don’t tell me to smile. You’re not the one hungover.” She scowled.
“You’ll eat the pancakes and bacon without complaint, understood?” The look I gave her stopped her arguments, but not her pertinent mouth.
“You’re not the boss of me.” She could say that to the table all she wanted, but I knew I wanted to be the boss of her, or at least her smiles. Our friendship was solid enough we operated on autopilot and when she weakly pushed her coffee cup in my direction, I knew what to do to make my girl feel better.
My girl…
Fuck a duck…
