Page 2 of Jake Forever
"So what?" I said. "Me too. But you don't seememoaning about it."
"Yeah. Because you're not a guy." He frowned. "You can see them any time you want. Me? I've gotta take 'em where I find 'em."
My gaze dipped to his black button-down shirt. Trey did have nipples, right? But I got what he meant. Probably, his weren't nearly as interesting – or at least, I sure hoped not.
I looked to my right and studied Jake's face. Hadheseen the nipple? Probably. But I didn't hearhimmoaning about it either.
Then again, Jake was never lacking in nipple-viewing opportunities. Everywhere we went, girls practically threw themselves at him. Every once in a while, they threw their clothes too, which, come to think of it, didn't exactly cut down on the nipple sightings.
Happily, Jake hardly seemed to notice – not since we'd been together anyway. From what I'd seen over the past few weeks, he was a one-girl kind of guy, which meant thatmynipples were the only ones he paid serious attention to.
Thank goodness.
And just for the record, his attention was really,reallygood.
With an effort, I turned my attention to the stage and tried to focus on thingsotherthan ripping off Jake's clothes and jumping into his arms.
The sportscaster was still talking, louder now, in an obvious bid to drown out the latest interruption from Dorian and his entourage.
It had been going on like this for a while. Just as the sportscaster was hitting his stride, Dorian and his companions would knock the guy off his game with some new interruption – talking across the table, calling out for more booze, and yeah, taking more phone calls than a pizza delivery joint.
I snuck another quick glance at Jake, who was watching the scene with quiet amusement. As for the rest of the crowd, their amusement had faded fifteen minutes earlier, when Dorian had taken out his phone and ordered his driver to "be ready out front, the minute my little brother wins this piss-ant thing."
Recalling Jake's words from earlier, I leaned toward him and asked, "When you say 'be ready,' what exactly do you mean? Be ready for what?"
Jake flicked his head toward Dorian, but said nothing.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Don't tell me you're gonna mess with him."
Jake shrugged. "Alright."
"Alright? Meaning you're not gonna mess with him?" I paused. "Or, alright, meaning you're not gonna tell me?"
He leaned close and whispered in my ear, "Just be ready."
Again, I glanced toward Dorian's table. Across from him sat his little brother – although, to call the guy little was utterly ridiculous. Ronnie North was a head taller than his brother, and if the rumors were true, twice as mean.
Ronnie was a football player of some sort. What position, I had no idea. I wasn't exactly a fan. Still, I'd heard the rumors. Apparently, Ronnie wasn't nearly as good as he thought he was, and had gained a reputation for being, as Jake had put it, a piss-poor loser when things didn't go his way.
I glanced around. The odds of Ronnie losing anything tonight were slim to none. For weeks, rumors had been circulating that the whole award-thing was rigged, courtesy of Dorian, who'd been using muscle and money to boost his little brother's chances.
Why, I had no idea. I mean, a regional sports award wouldn't be the thingI'drig. But then again, I wouldn't be using my own voice as a ring-tone either.
Again, I heard Jake's voice, low in my ear. "And keep your purse handy, alright?"
"For what?"
"To get out of here." Jake pointed toward the other side of our table, where a brawny, middle-aged man in a sports-jacket was watching the crowd with wary eyes. "If things get bad," Jake continued, "go with him, alright?"
I stared at the guy. Who was he, anyway? Yeah, he'd been sitting at our table, but so were a bunch of other people I didn't know. Other than Jake and Trey, I hadn't said more than a quick hello to any one of them.
And now, I was supposed to leave with that guy? A total stranger? Screw that. I was leaving with Jake. I hesitated. Well, as long as he wasn't arrested or anything.
When I said nothing, Jake spoke again. "You heard me, right?"
Again, I glanced toward the guy, whose eyes were still scanning the room. "Him?" I said, forgetting to lower my voice. "But I don't even know him."
Behind me, someone made a shushing sound. I turned and glared toward the unseen shusher. I couldn't even tell who'd done it, but that wasn't the point. Why were they shushingmewhen they should be shushing Dorian? He was a hundred times louder thanIwas.
