"Yep, bought a big ole bottle of it for just three dollars," Theo bragged.
Crusoe looked at him. "You do realize the cheap stuff is just brown corn syrup and flavors? That goo never came out of a tree or out of Vermont, for that matter."
"Still tastes good," Theo said.
"I agree," Bridget said. She looked longingly at the coffeepot. Theo and Crusoe rarely drank coffee, but Griffin always made a full pot. He liked to down three cups before work. Two was good for me.
"Coffee?" I asked. I'd had many women stay over for breakfast, but having Bridget sitting in our crummy little kitchen felt way different. I was almost nervous, and I never felt nervous.
"Yes, pleeeze," she said, then covered her mouth. "God, did that sound desperate?"
"It's all right," Theo said. "You should see Griffin in the morning before he's had his coffee. And little word of advice—never get in between Fin and the coffeepot when he hasn't had his first cup. He once picked me up and tossed me out of the way."
Crusoe laughed. "He sure as fuck did, and it was one of the greatest moments in my life. Theo landed on his ass, and he just stared up at Fin with his mouth hanging open." Crusoe mimicked the face Theo was wearing. "It was definitely one of those 'fuck, where the hell is my phone' moments. But it's all right." Crusoe tapped his temple. "I've got it all right up here."
Theo chomped down on his cereal and stared at Crusoe as he told the story. Crusoe smiled and shrugged. "It was classic," Crusoe said as he dug back into his own cereal.
"I don't know about classic," Theo said. "Classic is more like the time you thought you could jump from the roof of Mikey Tremble's house to his garage." Theo looked over at Bridget. "He landed on the top of Mikey's dad's convertible VW, then he bounced, like a ball, up in the air and landed on the driveway feet first."
"Oh wow," Bridget said. "So you stuck the landing? I used to be a gymnast. I did something similar to that yesterday."
Theo smiled over at Crusoe. My little brother was staring into his vast container of cereal.
"He landed it," Theo said, "but he broke both ankles."
Bridget flinched. "Oh, yeah that would definitely not be considered a good landing."
Crusoe scooped up a spoonful of cereal and flicked the whole wet blob at Theo. Theo moved sideways, and the mess landed on the floor. Thankfully, Rosco was ready for more cleanup.
I put the waffles on plates and carried them to the table. "You never told me you were a gymnast," I said. Of course, my dirty mind immediately started coming up with ways to use her talents in the bedroom. She obviously read those dirty thoughts.
"If you're picturing me twisting myself into all kinds of interesting positions, forget it. I haven't competed since the eighth grade. I'm no longer the limber, wet noodle I once was."
Theo laughed at the comment. "She knows you pretty fucking well, Jax."
"Aren't you two done with your pig troughs yet?" I asked.
"Yeah, we should get going, Cru. Dad is taking some bachelor party group out on the boat today. We're both helping."
"Yeah, why the hell couldn't it be a bachelorette party?" Crusoe asked as he carried his container to the sink.
"Right. Bachelorette parties always plan deep sea fishing expeditions," Theo answered as they walked out of the kitchen.
Bridget nodded with approval as she finished a bite of waffle. "Frozen waffles. One of the true wonders of the world. I guess you've got to head into work?"
"Unfortunately. But I like to eat and stay under a roof, so there's no avoiding it. You're welcome to stay. It'll kill me all day knowing that you're here without me, but it'll also be nice knowing that you'll be here when I get home." I reached up and lightly touched the bruise that covered most of her cheek. "Does it hurt?"
"Not anymore. Now I just look like a prizefighter. I should probably get home. I'm actually surprised that Dad hasn't sent the driver to pick me up." As she said it there was a knock on the door.
Bridget moved to get up.
"Nope, I'll get it." I walked to the door and opened it. "Officer Prentiss."
"Jaxon." He nodded. Prentiss was a leathery old guy who used to be big and beefy, but age had shrunk him some, and too many donuts and burgers had given him a belly that dropped down over his gun belt. He was a tough old shit, but he always looked less confident when facing down a Stone. This morning he lifted his chin to show he wasn't going to take any crap from me.
"I'm looking for Bridget Walsh. Do you have her here?"
I laughed. "Do I have her here? You mean like a kidnapping victim or hostage?"