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“You okay?” Jordan asks, finally looking up from the device permanently attached to his hand. I’ve never had much use for cell phones. Sometimes my brothers talk in a group chat that I ignore unless they use my name. I reply with either emojis or the briefest message I can get by with, but other than that, I barely look at the damn thing.
“RJ? Are you okay?” the kid asks again.
“I’m great. Why?”
“Because you look disappointed.”
“Why would I be disappointed?”
“Because you wanted Thane to show back up here and offer to blow you again?”
“Jordan! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
Ignoring me, he says, “I wonder how much experience Thane has, you know…” He then mimes shoving an imaginary dick into his mouth with his fist, his tongue poking out of his cheek.
“Please don’t ever do that again,” I beg him. Then, I can’t help but consider the question he asked before the demonstration. “You think he hooks up with a bunch of guys?”
“I don’t know. You should ask him.”
“No.”
“So, you’re perfectly fine going the rest of your life and never finding out what it would be like to hook up with him?”
“Yes. And I don’t want to talk about it or him again. Okay?”
“You haven’t been thinking about him on his knees?”
“What…that is none of your fucking business!”
“Ooh, I hit a nerve. So you have thought about him.”
“I’ll stop thinking about him as soon as you quit bringing him up! Now, get to work. Call Moore now and…”
Our conversation is interrupted when the front door opens and in walks Deputy Moore in his brown sheriff uniform, his black hair cut short, reminding me of Thane’s.
Wait. How the hell did he know his truck was ready? When he dropped it off this morning, I told him it would probably be tomorrow.
I look to Jordan, who I know hasn’t called him since we’ve been standing here talking.
“Hey, Deputy. How’s it going?” I ask with a fake smile.
“All right, I guess. Thanks for getting the brake pads done so fast.”
“Sure,” I say to him.
“And I see you’re all paid up, so here are your keys,” Jordan says cheerfully as he hands over the key ring before the man even pulls out his wallet.
“How…” I start when Jordan holds up his phone.
“I’ve started texting the clients who prefer it because they’re too busy for phone calls. And I send invoices by text to clients so they can pay online before they come in.”
“You did all that just now?”
“Easy peasy,” Jordan replies right before the radio on Moore’s shoulder crackles. Words and numbers that I don’t understand are called out before he mutters, “Goddamn it.”
“Everything okay?” Jordan asks.
“There’s been a shootout at a shopping center,” he says.
