Page 14 of Best Served Cold

“You probably should be. Look…I’ll tell you about it later. I’ve gotta go. I’m Pollyanna’s getaway driver.”

He laughs. “Jonah’s girlfriend has resorted to a life of crime?”

“Something like that. I’ll fill you in on that later too.”

“Nice. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

As soon as we hang up, I text Nelly, the caseworker who’s helping me get approved as a foster parent.

It’s a perfect solution. Emil’s sixteen, nearly seventeen, and he doesn’t really need another parent. He needs a place to stay with someone who’s going to let him do his homework and practice guitar. I’ve got a spare bedroom that’s home to nothing but my instruments mounted on the wall.

The guitars could go elsewhere, or they could stay—Emil would be over the moon to sleep beneath them.

I let Nelly know that Emil’s foster dad has him working long hours, and she texts back seconds later.

Crappy but not illegal. We got this. A few more weeks. Hang in there, my friend.

I hold the phone for a second, lost in thought, then tuck it away when I see Sophie hurrying out of the brewery with another woman, the same blonde who met her out front fifteen minutes ago. I’ve played sets at most of the breweries that host live music, so I recognize her, but I don’t remember her name. Bixby calls her Goldilocks.

They open the back door, and they both slide into the back seat as if I really am their getaway driver.

“Go,” Sophie says.

I don’t hesitate or ask what happened, even if I really, really want to know. I pull away from the curb just as Jonah comes jogging outside. He waves his hand at the car, the gesture urgent.

Nope, can’t let this go.

I park the car and turn to face the ladies.

“Please, Rob,” Sophie says, leaning forward in her seat.

A few tendrils of hair have escaped her usual ponytail, and she has a wild, almost untamed look. I have the strange urge to reach back, not to tuck her hair behind her ear, but to tug the rest of it free.

“I’ll be right back,” I say. “Then we’re getting out of here. I’ll bring you wherever you like.”

I climb out of the car and cross the road, making a beeline toward Jonah. He looks anxious, which I enjoy, but he clearly wishes to talk to me, which I donotenjoy.

In this moment, it feels like all the problems in the world are the result of Jonah and his devil-may-care dick.

“So you know,” Jonah says as I get closer. He’s dressed in a suit that’s about as weather appropriate as wearing shorts in midwinter, and sweat has dampened the collar of his shirt. “Can you help me convince?—”

I punch him in the face. His nose gives under my fist as pain bursts across my knuckles, and I’m not sorry. Not even if I’ve messed up my hand and won’t be able to play right for weeks.

“What the hell?” he shrieks, lifting his hands up to cup his nose.

“That’s for being just like our dad, you absolute piece of shit. How could you?”

“I…I don’t know,” he sputters. “I messed up. I’m going to fix it. I’m going to figure out a way.”

“No. You’re not,” I say flatly. “You’re going to leave her the fuck alone.”

With that, I turn my back on him, knowing he could attack me from behind. Not really caring.

I cross the road to the car, from which Sophie and Goldilocks are gaping at me. Sophie’s face is practically pressed to the glass.

When I get to the car, I glance back. Jonah is still standing there, his hand wrapped around his bleeding nose, watching me with some sort of emotion written across his face. I’ll be damnedif I know what it is. I doubt he’s learned anything from all of this, other than that he should be a better liar.

I slip behind the wheel, clear my throat, and say, “All right, ladies, where to?”

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