AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Thanks.”
Maybe because Ajax stood right beside him, nobody said anything weird to Eight. But they gave him every imaginable strange look, so no doubt they’d have a lot to say when they got him alone.
“I’ll order pizza,” Jazz said, pulling up the rear. “What’s your favorite, Ajax?”
“My favorite is supreme, but the only thing I don’t like is pineapple.”
“Amen,” Jazz agreed. “Fruit has no place on pizza.”
“My mom says it’s the wrong kind of pie.”
“Exactly. Your mama’s a smart woman. You want to help me figure out the order?”
“Sure.” Ajax let go of Eight’s hand and followed Jazz to the landline phone at the far end of the bar.
Gunner’s fugue finally broke. “Uh, Eight? I got questions.”
“Later,” Eight snapped.
Getting that bug-in-a-jar feeling, he turned and saw Felicia smiling at him. Felicia was not, it should be said, a great fan of his. Most women were not, unless he was fucking them at the time. But she came close and kissed his cheek. She was very tall for a woman, close to six feet, so she barely had to raise her heels to do it.
He was sure enough to swear on it that that was the first time Felicia Brooks had ever touched him on purpose.
“What’s that for?”
“Surprising me,” she said and turned to go back to her kids.
CHAPTER TWENTY
It was almost ten o’clock on a school night, and Marcella was pacing the living room.
Eight hadn’t brought Ajax home yet. She’d texted as soon as she’d gotten home herself, coming up on forty-five minutes ago, and he’d replied that he’d get on on the road ‘ASAP,’ but nothing yet.
Maybe she should have had him bring Ajax to Dash’s house after all. But they’d been rehearsing this stupid video, and she hadn’t wanted Ajax to watch that. Too much making out with Dash, too much tension with the band.
She hadn’t wanted Eight to see any of that, either. He was jealous—even more than she’d expected. He got jealous when she remarked on a hot guy on television.
So she’d told him to keep Ajax until she was home—and now she waited.
He lived about fifteen minutes away, maybe twenty in heavy traffic. What the fuck was taking so long?
Come on, Eight, she thought and picked up her phone to call.
Just as she was about to hit the green button, she heard their voices outside the door. The knob turned, and Ajax barreled in, grinning. He had his backpack on his shoulders and a green Sinclair cap perched on his head. Eight was right behind him, carrying a pizza box.
“Hi, Mom!” Ajax shrugged his pack off onto the nearest chair.
“Hi, tiger.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him in for a hug. “Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah! I went to the Bulls clubhouse and met a bunch of people. We had pizza and I did my homework, and I went to the station with Jazz and he showed me how a carburetor works! It was so cool! We brought you some leftover pizza—there’s supreme and pepperoni and I think some cheese, too. It’s all mixed up in the box.”
Marcella took that barrage of enthusiastic information in stunned silence. Eight had taken her son to the Bulls clubhouse? The outlaw biker gang’s lair? What the fuck?
Should she have expected that? It honestly had not occurred to her. She’d thought he’d take Ajax to hishouse.
As each second passed, and she processed the truth, Marcella got increasingly angry. But she kept her cool and smiled at her son. “Sounds like a good time. It’s late, you have school in the morning, and you smell like an engine. Go take a shower, okay?”
“Okay.” He went to Eight. “Bye, Dad. I had fun.” He threw his arms around Eight’s waist.
