Page 10 of Junkyard Dog

Chapter Four

“Can’t hide inthere forever!”

Charlotte tossed her TV remote onto the sofa and stomped to her door, flinging it open with a lethal combination of annoyance and exhaustion. “Do you mind?” she hissed, glancing down the halls in anticipation of irate neighbors.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Max smiled, pushing his way into the small apartment and flopping into the recliner.

“Get out.”

He flipped the chair open, crossing his arms behind his head. “I will. Once you’re dressed and beautified and, ugh, showered.” He made a production of looking her up and down, his nose wrinkled in disdain. “You look like you got off work and fell facedown in a plate of toast.”

Dropping onto the sofa, she grabbed the remote and turned up the volume. “I did just get off work and now I get two Max-free nights before I have to be civil to you again.” She locked a dead glare on him. “Don’t you have a date?”

“That’s tomorrow. Tonight you’re coming out with us for some wings, beer, and more rambling stories from what’s-her-face. You know who. The new one from Montana.” He shuddered. “I need you to cockblock that one for me.”

She snorted, keeping her eyes glued to the television until Max stood up and placed himself directly in her line of sight.

“Come on, Chuck,” he warned. “We’re heading over to the Washout, so there’s no excuse for you to ditch out. Get. Up.”

Sighing in defeat, she rolled off the sofa and hoisted herself to her feet. “I still hate you.”

He snatched the remote and hip-checked her down the hall before he settled in to wait. His laughter carried over the rush of the shower water, earning a stern shushing from her and a thumping foot from the apartment above. By the time she was ready to go, she was certain she’d be coming home to an eviction notice.

Giving her an exaggerated once-over, he stalked around her. “Cougar on the prowl,” he purred, checking out the black leather pants she’d paired with an off-the-shoulder pewter crop top. “I’d consider doing you.”

“Ha!” she scoffed, tugging her heeled sandals on. “Because that’s why I’m dressed up. To become a consideration for your man-whore self.”

He passed over her purse as they walked out of the apartment, adjusting the collar of his black button-down and smoothing it over his chest. “Just saying you look kick-ass. Much better than the glaring psychopath you turn into every time a certain bartender is in the area.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Well, you sure did your best to make sure that’ll never happen again,” she muttered, swinging the door to Max’s truck open.

“Can you blame me?” He laughed. “It’s weird seeing you crushing on a guy.”

Buckling her seat belt, she leaned back and groaned. “I know, I know.” She rolled her head to the side and looked at her best friend. “He’s just so damn pretty, my brain kind of zaps whenever he looks at me with those weird eyes. He’s one of those guys who’s going to snag a rich sugar momma and jet-set around the world until she up and dies and leaves him with all her money and a Pomeranian.” With the wrinkling of her nose, she played with the electric locks of the truck. “Add that to the fact he’s gotta be a good five years younger than me, and I’m definitely meant to admire his ass from afar.”

Max’s barking laughter filled the cab. “I’ll be your wingman tonight at the Washout if you block the Montana mumbler from me. We’ll find you a good, not-as-pretty boy to get your mind off Alex’s ass.”

The Washout was packed for a Thursday, the college kids still on leave from school. Max pushed his way through the crowd with Charlotte in tow until they spotted their coworkers. Annexing two chairs from a neighboring table, she and Max joined the group and flagged the waitress over.

“See the group of guys on the far left of the dance floor?” he muttered into her ear. “What do you think of the tall one in the Blue Jays hat?”

She scanned the men over. “I like the one in the Spider-Man shirt,” she whispered back, pulling her chair forward slightly to block the Montana mumbler from making eye contact with Max. “Tall, dark, and sober. Blue Jays guy looks sloshed already.”

The pair made casual chatter with their group before hitting the dance floor, Max angling his back to Spider-Man to give her the opportunity to better check the guy out over his shoulder. By the third dance, Spider-Man was watching with subtle interest.

“We’re hitting ‘couple’ territory here,” he said, leaning in to avoid being overheard. “Follow me.”

He walked to the edge of the dance floor, placed himself beside Spider-Man and the waitress taking orders, and pulled out his wallet. “Could I please get a Bud for me and a vodka Coke for my cousin?” he asked, slipping two twenties onto the woman’s tray and looking her over in appreciation. “And three shots. Your choice.” When the waitress smirked at him and nodded, he tilted his head toward her, his voice loud enough to be overheard by their target. “I have such a weakness for blondes.”

“I can’t believe there’s one in the county you haven’t scored yet.” She grinned, catching Spider-Man’s interest in their conversation. “When she comes back, I’ll make myself scarce.”

He frowned. “I’m not leaving you to sit alone.”

Their target leaned in, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. “Your cousin can sit with us,” he offered, smiling over at her. “I’m Chris.”

*

Charlotte pushed herchair back and crossed her legs, laughing as Chris pushed his phone in front her to show off pictures of his iguana. “She’s very pretty.” When he launched into an excited recount of the lizard’s latest escapades, she took a moment to look him over.

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