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“I know she’s worried about Scott,” Jess said. “She feels her job is threatened.”
“How could Mayor Rodalenotrecognize what an asset she has in Whitney? She’s been a fantastic and loyal employee for years.”
“I agree, but I can understand why she’s concerned. Scott is family, and sometimes things aren’t fair.”
Trent finished pouring the beers and placed them on a tray for Jess. “I just wish she’d take a day for herself just to relax. Maybe you and Sarah could invite her to a spa day or something?”
“Sure. Who can say no to massages and pedicures, right?” she said as positively as possible, but they both knew the answer to that.
Whitney could.
“Hey, are you both going to the Keller-Marshall wedding this weekend?” Jess asked.
Trent raised an eyebrow. “We were…but I’m guessing I’ll be flying solo now that Whitney has this new pitch to work on.” He didn’t even need to ask if she’d be working that weekend, and he suspected she would be relieved to have a valid excuse to miss another wedding. She’d been avoiding them as much as possible.
“Well, you’re welcome to come with Mitch and me,” Jess said, placing cash on the bar and picking up the tray.
“Thanks,” he mumbled. He was tired of being the third wheel whenever Whitney bailed. Regular date nights used to be a thing with them, and she never used to miss important events in the lives of their family and friends. In the last two years, things had changed. He couldn’t remember the last real date they’d had. Just the two of them without cell phones, emails, or interruptions. He missed the time together.
“Hey! Quit it, man!”
“You quit it, asshole!”
A commotion near the arcade caught his attention, and he turned to see what the yelling was about. Two teenage boys were pushing and shoving each other near the antique PacMan game. He squinted in the neon lights to see who the troublemakers were.
Damn, one of Angel’s boys.
He dropped his dishtowel onto the bar and hopped over it to hurry toward them. A group had now gathered around to watch the action. He pushed his way through the sea of teenagers. “Hey!” He got there just in time to see Angel’s son Eddie throw a punch that landed squarely on the jaw of a smaller, younger teen.
Shit.
“Hey, break it up,” he growled, stepping between the two boys before the other kid could retaliate. His cheek was red and already swelling fast. They struggled to move past Trent to continue the battle, angry glares flashing in their expressions. “Both of you calm down.”
Realizing they wouldn’t get past him—being a human wall of muscle had its perks—they retreated, but only slightly.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“This jerk just pushed me out of the way to take over the game,” the other kid said, jutting his chin at Eddie.
“He was playing for an hour. There are other people waiting,” Eddie said, folding his arms across his chest.
“That’s not how it works here,city boy,” the other kid spat, moving closer. “You play till you lose.”
Eddie’s nostrils flared, and he took a step closer, too.
Trent held the two of them apart. He suspected this wasn’t the first encounter between them. They most likely attended the same school. Angel had said her sons were having a tough time adjusting to the smaller school, and the other kids hadn’t been as welcoming as she’d hoped.
“Look, you two, it’s just a video game.” It looked like it was more than that, but neither of them would comment.
The boy’s cheek was now bruising, and he touched it and winced.
“Let’s get you some ice for your cheek,” he told the kid. “And you, Rocky Balboa, have a seat,” he told Eddie. “I’m not done with you.”
Eddie looked ready to refuse but then slumped into a chair, arms still folded, a deep scowl on his face.
Trent led the way to the bar. “He’s new to town. You and your friends should try cutting him some slack. Maybe include him so he doesn’t feel like an outsider.”
The teen scoffed. “We did. He said he didn’t need friends, ’cause he wouldn’t be slumming it here for long.”
