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He slumps against the bar. Looking like a kicked dog.
I sigh. “Enjoy yourself. Sing a song. That will make you feel better.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
And then the song changes—an instant rapid-fire drum solo—and the light turns back on in Jason’s eyes.
“Oh fuck! I love this song!”
Sometimes, he has the attention span of a toddler. Just need to distract him with a shiny set of keys to get him to perk up.
“Up next, Jason King with ‘One Week,’” the announcer says.
Jason blinks at me. “Did you put me on the set?”
I shrug, answering without answering. “Knock ’em dead.”
His grin lights up his whole face. “Love you, man.”
“Love you, too.”
I lean back against the bar and watch him take the stage.
It doesn’t matter that his heart is hurting. Jason King always comes alive for an audience. He takes the microphone, gets into a Michael-Jackson-esque pose, and immediately the Anchor gets noisy with whoops and claps.
I can’t help the grin that climbs my face as I watch him light up the crowd.
“Listen to him,” I hear a grumble behind me. “Sounds like a bag of cats getting choked to death.”
I turn. Nick is at the bar, along with two of his pug-faced cronies. Nick is one of the few locals. He and Jason used to be best friends growing up. Only Jason changed. Nick never did. He’s still the same bitter bully he’s always been. Only now he works as a waiter at the marina restaurant and shucks clams in the summer—a lifestyle that makes him rougher and constantly smelling like cigarette smoke. Currently, he’s hunched over his pint, cackling at Jason’s expense.
Jason might be an idiot. But he’s my idiot.
Only I get to insult him.
“Hey.” I flash Nick a razor-sharp smile. “Be like Bambi.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “What?”
“If you’ve got nothing nice to say, shut your mouth?”
“Or what?” His hand tightens around his pint.
Smoothly, I inform him, “I can break your fingers and reset the bones in thirty seconds as though nothing happened. Don’t test me.”
The color falls from Nick’s face. “Whatever,” he says. I relish in the scent in his fear as he sulks away.
“Since when did you become the one who threatens violence?”
To my left, Kenzi appears. As if out of nowhere. My heart kicks.
“You showed up.” I state the obvious, like an idiot.
She leans against the bar and lifts her eyebrows at me. “I thought beating people up was Jason’s schtick.”
“Yeah, well. He became a guru.”
“And you?”
