Page 13 of Playing for Keeps
Del had upgraded substantially since driving that old Chevy Impala. These days he rode through town in a shiny smoke gray Escalade with Greer18 on the tags.
Damn, she should’ve known GCSports18 was him.
“You know what, don’t answer that. You don’t have to say anything else. I’m okay, really. I just need to get home and sleep this mad off,” she told him.
He nodded slowly. “Sure. But if somebody inside pissed you off. If anybody said something to irritate you, Rylan, you can tell me. I’ll take care of it.”
A bit of the steam she’d worked up sifted away at those words. As much of a tomboy as Rylan knew she’d been growing up, there’d never been a shortage of big brothers in town who were all willing to stand up for her. It was one of the things that had kept her from feeling so low whenever Naomi won a beauty pageant or found another boyfriend. Rylan had boy friends who cared a great deal about her.
Somehow, tonight, that wasn’t as much of a consolation as it had been all those years ago.
“I’m fine, Del. I really am,” she said around the lump that had formed in her throat.
Rylan pulled the door open and hurried inside the car. She started the engine and backed out of the spot as quickly as she could and drove away. The fact that distance did absolutely nothing to stop the furious embarrassment she felt meant nothing, compared to the undeniable arousal that swirled in her stomach as she’d stood close to her best friend’s brother.
5
She wasn’t going to show.
Del felt like an idiot sitting in the booth at Margie’s for the past half hour waiting for MercedesGirl926.
The booth in the back by the window was “his spot” as all of the waitresses and the owner, Margaret Madison and her daughter Kay, knew. It was done through no request of his, but since Del and the guys had started coming to Margie’s as one of their few weekly excursions while staying at the House, the table held special memories for them. Margie’s had also been one of the first places Del had come upon his return to Providence. The beef stew tasted so much like his mother’s that he ordered it at least twice a month. And Del ordered dinner from Margie’s a lot. So much that Ms. Margie had begun calling the bar every evening around five to check for his dinner order. As Del usually kept extremely late hours and the diner was open twenty-four hours a day, his order would be ready at whatever time he told them. He loved Ms. Margie and her staff for affording him this convenience and always paid more on his tab than was necessary.
Tonight, Del didn’t have much of an appetite. He’d been abnormally nervous about meeting a woman. As it turns out, that feeling was wasted since the woman was a no-show.
Del finished the slice of apple pie he’d ordered out of guilt for sitting there so long and emptied the glass of water. He was just about to stand and leave but hesitated to check his watch one more time. Maybe he was wrong. It could’ve just felt like he’d been sitting here forever. Nope. It had been forty-five minutes. With a frown he stood and was prepared to walk out of the diner, but he hadn’t moved fast enough.
“Delano. You don’t like the food at your own place?”
Mal Penning stood in front of Del, his tall, slim body and slouched posture the same as it had been since they were teenagers. They were sixteen when they’d had their first confrontation. On the basketball court behind the elementary school, Del’s team from the House had been playing there first, but Mal thought he had more privilege than ten wayward teens. He told them to get lost. Rock, with his quick temper and powerful fists, had stepped in Mal’s face first, demanding that he make them move.
Del, seeing how the scenario would play out—Rock would beat the crap out of Mal and Mal would call his father who was the District Attorney at the time, send the cops and put Rock in jail for a good portion of his yet to come adult life—stepped between them. Del’s level-headed suggestion had been for them to play for the right to stay. Mal had laughed. He’d called them a bunch of delinquents and acted as if his group of more affluent friends didn’t have the time to be bothered and attempted to walk away. Del had stepped forward, tapping Mal on the shoulder. When Mal turned Del thrust the ball into Mal’s chest and stated his terms again. Mal, still needing to save face in front of his friends, had looked Del in the eye with pure contempt before saying, “You’re still a broke nobody with a whore for a mother who can barely pay the rent, that’s why you and your brother have to live in a house using my dad’s tax dollars to take care of you and the rest of your delinquent crew.”
Before Del could blink he’d punched Mal in the face, breaking the racist bastard’s nose. That act had earned Del another six months at the House and made him and Mal sworn enemies. Fifteen years later and the animosity between them was still as thick as the summer air in Providence.
“Good evening, Mal,” Del said and attempted to walk around the man.
They had nothing to say to each other. Too many years and too many events had happened between them for any sort of truce to ever be discussed. And Del didn’t want to discuss one, especially not since Mal had been lurking around the bar for the past couple of weeks, no doubt looking for something to harass them about. Mal still thought he was better than Del for basic and idiotic reasons like race, financial position and social status. Age-old issues, that some thought were in the past. Del and his friends knew differently.
“Don’t walk away from me,” Mal said as he moved to block Del’s path.
Del glared at him, staring into the coldest green eyes he’d seen in a very long time.
“You waltz back into my town after screwing up with the DEA and think you own things here. Well, you’re wrong,” Mal said.
Del shrugged. “You’d be the one who’s wrong. I own two houses and part of a remarkably successful bar and grill. I’d say that’s a few things that I own.”
“You’re still trash!” Mal insisted.
“And you’re still a jealous little prick. Good to know we’re clear on that.”
Del once again tried to leave. This time Mal poked a finger into his shoulder. All the rage that had bubbled in the fifteen-year-old Del bubbled in his gut and his fists clenched at his side.
“I’m gonna get you and your convict buddies out of my town if it’s the last thing I do.”
Del still stared at the spot where Mal’s finger had touched him. Realizing that he was a grown man now, with responsibilities and people who depended on him to walk a straight line, he lifted his gaze slowly to meet Mal’s and spoke with lethal clarity, “That lump in your nose should be a daily reminder of what happened the last time you tried to step to me, Mal. . So, I’m gonna advise you back the hell up and let me leave without having to break my foot off in your ass this time.”
Mal flushed but just like years ago, he didn’t back down. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
