Page 29 of No Romeo
Wolf slammed the door to his truck. “Dude,” he said, rounding the front. “His face looked like ground beef. Be glad you couldn’t see it.”
“Keep that sick crap to yourself.” I passed between cars, stopping when I noticed Bellamy’s girlfriend’s Barbie-pink Porsche parked beside the handicap ramp. “I swear to God, Wolf, if he brought Drewbers to guy’s Waffle Hut night….”
The last thing I needed right now was to hang out with another her. I kicked the bumper when I passed by the offensive-as-hell beacon of wealth.
“I don’t care if he brings her,” Wolf said. “She pays for our food.”
Because she was Barrington and had a river of cash flowing through her backyard. The nightmare of a girl probably crapped hundred-dollar bills after breakfast, blowing farewell kisses to them as she flushed them down the toilet.
Ever since Lola left, I’d given the guys crap anytime one of them sniffed at a relationship. If the girl who had promised me, since the time we were six years old, that she’d never leave me did, in fact, leave me, they sure as hell couldn’t trust some new girl not to shit all over them.
I stuffed everything Lola back into the dark depths of my mind, then shoved open the handprint-covered door. “Come on. I’m hungry. Move your stumpy legs.”
A plume of smoke billowed up from the griddle, carrying the scent of hashbrowns—covered, smothered, and chunked—across the tiny diner. The place was empty aside from the group of truckers at the countertop and Bellamy hunched over a half-eaten plate in the back booth.
No decency.
I passed by the register. “Way to wait on us, asshole.” I slid into the empty side of the plastic booth, and he glanced up from his almost finished plate.
“What the hell took you guys so long?” he asked.
Wolf slipped in beside me. “You know the homeless guy who stands around the satanic goat fountain by the Methodist church screaming Bible verses at people?”
“Yeah…” He crammed a handful of fries into his mouth.
“Someone shot him in the middle of Highway 11. Then an eighteen-wheeler ran him over.”
“Oh, shit.”
A waitress leaned over the plexiglass that separated the booth from the kitchen to place new cutlery and a Styrofoam cup on the table. “There’s your shake, shug.” Chocolate dripped over the rim.
Anytime Bellamy brought his kid brother with him, the waitress gave him a to-go milkshake.Afterthe bill.
On a scowl, I moved my attention from the drink to Bellamy. “You’re leaving?”
“I’m already late. I was supposed to be at Drew’s by eleven. I’ve gotta take her car back.”
“I’m stripping you of your three pimp stripes.” I reached across the booth and flicked his forehead. “Driving her rich-girl Barbie car and ditching on Waffle Hut guy’s night.” I shook my head in disappointment. “Going on dates. Now you’re ditching us.” I sniffed. “Nothing’s sacred anymore.”
“I’m not ditching. You were an hour late.”
“Homeless Homer lost his life tonight!” I bowed my head over the table and crossed myself. “Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Have you no respect for the dead?”
Wolf cackled. Bellamy buried his face in his hands. “I can’t deal with this.”
“Look at him, Wolf.” I grabbed another fry, using it to point at Bellamy. “Can’t deal with the truth. He’s gone all soft.”
“Speaking of soft…” Wolf grinned, jutting his chin toward me. “Found Romeo here over by Lola’s tonight.”
I socked him before Bellamy called me a hypocritical fuck.
“He was all up in her guts in the restroom at school, too.”
“I wasn’t in her guts, and I wasn’t at her house.” I wasn’t about to let either of them know how deep down the Lola rabbit hole I’d fallen. Which was why I leaned back in the booth and tried to look smug as shit.
Bellamy drummed his fingers over the table, cocking a brow. “Whose house were you at then?”
“I didn’t get her name.” I took the plastic menu from behind the napkin dispenser and glanced over it like I didn’t already know what I was getting.
