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“A pickle?” he ponders, casting a dubious look my way. “Define that. Is she in a bind or trouble of some sort?”
“Crazy guy she’s trying to break up with?” I say, though it’s more of a question.
I’m not sure how much I can explain without breaking the rules, but I’m pretty fucking positive bringing Ezra with me will violate two of the three. At minimum. I know he’s got a joint in his shirt pocket, so I might end up being the one who’s in trouble before this field trip is over.
I have high hopes that they’ll hit it off. As badly as Jasper hates the idea of mixing her days of the week, I’d feel better knowing who they are, who I’m leaving her with. Especially after this fucking David guy.
“Because you gave her the d—”
“Don’t,” I interrupt, scowling at him. “You sound like Quin.”
“Don’t insult me.” He curls his lip as he stares at his food. “You’ll make me lose my appetite.”
“Okay, fine,” I agree. “But I need to ask you a serious question. No playing around…”
He nods, mouth full, so he’s silent for once.
“How do you really feel about murder?”
Ezra chokes on his food. “Definitely five out of ten. Depending on the reason. Why do we need to kill him?”
I crack half a smile at his indifference. He won’t kill anything without a reason, but that doesn’t mean it has to be a good one. Just telling him I need his help is enough. Ezra is the definition of ride or die. This isn’t a me thing; it’s an us thing, because without fail, he has my back.
“I don’t know that we’ll need to…” I tell him, hesitant to explain more. “I just wanted to ask before you finished your food.”
“As long as it’s not super gory, I’ll keep my stomach contents where they belong.”
I chuckle but say nothing else about it.
Knowing Jasper, there’s blood involved.
How much? That could range from a single drop to pints upon pints.
Ezra doesn’t have a problem with the gore, though. He’s just teasing me to lighten my mood.
He doesn’t actively seek people to torture or kill, but he’s not some preppy rich idiot who’s scared to break a nail either. I’ve seen him fight and pull a trigger. Even had to pull him off a biker who ended up having hours of surgery because he pissed Ezra off.
It only dawned on me Tuesday night, when he said he’d talked to Gemma Smith... But Ezra could hang with Jasper. He’d at least give her the same respect that I do, not the fear she’d get from others if they knew who she was.
Not that I’d ask her to tell him who she is…
That’s her secret.
I hate seeing her step into the alter ego of Gemma when I know Jasper so well. It happens every Wednesday and Saturday. I watch the change take place, turning her from the girl who shot me and then brought me ice cream in the hospital to a near stranger.
Sure, she looks the same, dresses the same, talks the same… But she’s not as confident. Gemma is the watered-down version that Jasper has to play to hide her true identity. And I know it has to be exhausting after keeping up with the charade for so long.
Point is, Jasper and Ezra would be good together. I mean, they’d bicker like an old married couple. She’s got a smart mouth, and he’s got no filter. But yeah. He’s… a little warped, enough to hang with the cartel princess and not run for the hills when she ups the ante.
Now that her Thursday-Sunday is open, I’m going to suggest the next guy. Depending on how this adventure works out.
“Cute neighborhood,” Ezra mumbles, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Does she live here?”
“No.”
“So you did go home with her?” he queries, too invested in my love-life.
“No,” I sing, smirking at him so he knows I’m lying.
