Page 95 of Riot Act
“Spit it out!”
“I don’t think I’m supposed to just give out that information. Customer…confidentiality?”
“You fix cars. You’re not a fucking doctor. Who owns the Evo?”
Flustered, he shakes his head. “I dunno. I mean…some kid? I can’t remember his name. He was just in here. His old man’s setting up some Italian restaurant at the end of street. He dropped the car off a month ago and just disappeared. This is the first time he’s been back since.”
I parse this information, and everything snaps into place. Yeahhh, this car belongs to Jonah.Jonahwas the asshole who dumped Chase’s half dead ass out of the car, the night she nearly died. Jonah was the one who nearly fucking killed me when he took out that wall. His outlook on life just got even bleaker, and it was looking pretty bad to begin with.
“That Charger’s a sweet ride, man. You thinking about selling?” Moody’s son asks. He asks another question as I storm back to the car and hurl myself into the driver’s seat, too, but I’m not listening. My mind is working a mile a minute.
Main Street streaks past me in a blur. I hit the brakes when I see the building at the end of the street—the truck parked outside, delivering tablecloths. The other guy wearing a plaid shirt standing out on the street with his hands on his hips, staring up at the sign above the front door.
I park very badly across the street, get out, and cross over to him. The guy, who definitely looks ex-military—you can tell by the way a man holds himself a lot of the time—doesn’t even look at me as I come to a halt next to him. His frown deepens. “Hey. Do you think that looks a little…lopsided?” he asks.
The sign, which saysLove Me Tender, Love Me True, is absolutely lopsided, but the text is in cursive and at an angle, anyway. I fold my arms across my chest. “Yeah. It does.”
The guy sighs deeply. “Okay. Well. Fuck it. It’s up there now.”
This is Chase’s Dad. Naturally. I’ve never met him before, but they have the same nose, and chin, though Chase’s is a little elfin than her father’s. His hair is mostly brown, but auburn flashes in it when the sun breaks through the clouds and lights him up.
He grumbles as he heads back inside the building. He doesn’t say a word until he realizes that I’m right behind him. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. We’re actually not open yet.” He gestures around at the chairs, still in their plastic. There are boxes everywhere. The place smells like fresh paint and newly planed wood. The décor is clean, and white, and modern, but the upholstered, padded seats in the booths are sumptuous and look comfortable as hell. It kind of reminds me of my mother’s pristine living room, only these couches are supposed to be sat on.
“What kind of food are you gonna serve here?” I ask.
Chase’s dad brightens a little. “Oh, Italian food. Y’know. Hearty stuff. Comfort food. A lot of pasta. Steaks. All of the stuff I love to c—”
“Your son gonna help you out here?”
He frowns. For the first time, he looks a little suspicious of this stranger who’s randomly just followed him into his restaurant. “My son?” he says. “You know Jonah?”
“Not really. We’ve met a couple of times. I thought I saw him in the street earlier. He has that ’Subi Evo, right?”
Chase’s dad looks me up and down, tipping his head to one side. “Yeah. It used to be mine, but I gave it to him so he has something to drive here when he visits. It’s in storage right now. As far as I know, Jonah’s back in San Diego. He would have told me if he was planning on coming. Must have been someone else.”
“Yeah.” I smile at him, tight-lipped. “Must have been.” I make a show of looking around the half-finished restaurant. “Good luck with the grand opening. I’m sure it’s gonna be an awesome place.”
The exit’s only ten feet away. I’m nearly out of the door and in the clear, but then—
“Hey. I know this is gonna sound weird, but…I think I saw you on the back of a bus yesterday.”
I close my eyes, violently cursing the day I ever became a model, then I turn around, faking yet another smile. “Hmm?”
“Yeah. I think it was an ad for jeans. The guy looked just like you. Same—” He points at the angel and the demon on my neck. “Same tattoos and everything. Am I going crazy or was that…?” He points at me.
Urgh.
This is not the way this conversation was supposed to go.
“It’s an old campaign. The driver, Jim…he thinks it’s funny to leave it on the back of the number 69.”
“Oh, yeah, I know Jim.” Chase’s dad laughs. “He drove the school bus when I went to elementary school down the road. He’s a grumpy old shit.”
I force out a dry laugh, and it feels like I’m chewing rocks. “Listen. If, by any chance, you do see Jonah today, can you let him know that I dropped by to say hello? It’d make me really happy if he knew I was thinking about him.”
Thinking about ripping his fingernails off one at a time.
Thinking about smashing his kneecaps.
