Page 69 of Tall, Dark, & Ginger

“No, sir, it’s not,” Florian says. “All I was saying is that it may take a while because we’re in the middle of a dinner rush.”

“Five minutes,” the man says, but I swear he just slurred his words.

“What’s going on?” Kit asks before I can.

The customer swings around aggressively, narrowing his eyes but then backing off a little when he gets a look at Kit. He’s no match for Kit’s build, but he looks like he could hold his own in most crowds.

“I want to see the chef,” the customer says.

“We can let him know. Is he expecting you?”

The customer turns in my direction, his eyes heating with anger. “It’s you.”

“Do I know you?”

He scoffs, stepping closer to me in what I think is meant to be a menacing move, but seriously, dude? How old are we?

“You took him.” The man pokes me in his chest. “That’s why he doesn’t call anymore. It’s you.”

“Sorry, man, I’m not following.”

“Wren,” he says, raising his voice slightly. “You stole Wren from me.”

Ah, shit. “What’s your name?”

“You know my fucking name.” He reaches out and shoves my shoulder, but he’s clearly drunk so it doesn’t pack the punch he was probably hoping for. “I want to see Wren.”

“I think you need to go. You’ve clearly been drinking. We can call you a ride.”

“I want to see Wren,” he says, raising his voice again.

Within seconds, Indy, Bane, and Jerryn show up too, followed quickly by Lowen and Oakley.

“Time to go,” Kit says, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder and guiding him to the door, but he shakes free, tearing off toward the back. Fortunately, Indy and Oakley are there to stop him.

“I just want to talk to him, but he blocked me.” The man chuckles darkly. “He fucking blocked me.”

“Trent?”

I turn to see Wren and Salem pushing past Indy and Oakley.

“What are you doing here?”

Well fuck. I had a feeling it was him but I wasn’t sure.

Trent smiles, practically tripping over his feet to get closer, but Wren steps back, retreating between Indy and Oakley.

Trent drags his hand through his disheveled hair, his eyes moving rapidly around to all of us.

“Wren,” Trent says. “You look good.”

“You’ve been drinking,” Wren says. “You should go home.”

“Not without you. You’ve been doing so much, and I was wrong. So wrong. Your dreams weren’t too big. You did it.”

Wren crosses his arms over his chest. “Go home, Trent.”

“I see it now,” Trent says, stepping closer to Wren, who flinches slightly but stands firm.

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