“Come on, Ryan,” Davis said, slapping a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “I need a drink. Let’s leave these two lovebirds alone. I hear they have a lot to catch up on.” He caught the hostess’s eye and she stepped over to us.
“If you’ll follow me, please.”
Ryan shot me a look over his shoulder as he let himself be led away. Oh, I was going to get an earful later.
Jake’s gaze followed them, his arms crossed over his chest. The big guy headed to the bar on the other side of the room.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” I asked.
“No,” he said, following the big guy. “I find myself in need of a drink.”
We settled right next to the guy who was already looking at the menu. He grunted, and to my surprise turned and held out his hand. “Castile Alvarez,” he said in introduction. “Since no one can be bothered introducing us. Call me Steele.”
Well, wasn’t that manly. Not that I was going to make fun of his name to his face. The guy was the size of The Rock. “Eric Smallman,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”
“Kantor not letting you eat with them?” Jake asked, ordering a rum and Coke.
“Can’t watch them if I’m at the table. Better view of the room from here.” He had a brief conversation with the bartender who assured him the chef was the real deal and that the shrimp po’boy was delicious.
“Do you really think they’re in danger?” I asked. “Here?” The bartender looked my way, so I ordered one of the local beers they had on tap.
Steele shrugged. “I don’t get paid to think. I get paid to act. So I act like everything is dangerous.”
“Sounds like a…” I searched for the right word. “…stressful way to live. I would hate to spend every moment thinking I could be killed.”
Steele looked surprised and then laughed loudly. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong about that. Does give a man a different view of the world, that’s for sure.”
“What do you know about this investment opportunity?” Carson asked. And it was definitely Carson now. Nothing about Jake left.
I told him what little I knew about it. Some kind of expansion for the rink with an eye to attracting future ECHL or similar level clubs. Expanding into a community attraction area with restaurants and theaters. The rink did occupy one of the few remaining undeveloped sites with riverfront access. Symanski wasn’t the first investor who had reached out to me about development.
Jake was shaking his head the whole time I talked and muttering under his breath. At one point I thought he said something that sounded like “Symanski?” He sounded almost worried. I wasn’t stupid. Something was going on.
Steele looked at him and then away. Jake covered his mouth and coughed.
“Ryan seems to think it’s a great opportunity,” I finished weakly. Jake’s face had gotten more and more closed off as I’d been speaking.
Jake scoffed. “Ryan’s a moron. He’ll believe anything. And he’s ripe for conning.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh come on, he almost bought a fake timeshare in Bali, for God’s sake.”
“How the hell did you know about that?” I asked. That had been years ago. He hadn’t gone through with it, mainly because something had happened and the resort ended up not getting built.
Jake mumbled something, his cheeks flushing pink. Holy crap, was he blushing? “What?”
“I’m Facebook friends with Ryan.”
“What?” That I had not expected in a million years.
“Not under my real identity, of course. He knows me as Phoenix Stream.”
“What? He fell for that obvious of a fake name?” I shouldn’t be surprised. Ryan had thousands of online friends and spent quite a bit of time chatting with them.
“Phoenix is extremely cute and twinky. And loves to sext, if you must know.”
“So, you’re a stalker and a catfisher?” I couldn’t picture him doing either of those things.
“It’s only catfishing if you’re trying to catch something.”
“So, you’re only a stalker.”
“I’m an observer, and Ryan is an idiot.”
“Oh my God. It’s like we never left high school.”
“If you ask me,” Steele said.
“Which we did not,” Jake said with a glare. Steele smiled at him, all his very white teeth showing.
“If you ask me,” he started again. “They’re both just jealous.” He gave me a thorough once-over, nodding. “You’re cute, must be something special, too.”
“Eyes to yourself, Alvarez,” Jake said. The big guy just laughed.
Jake pushed his stool away from the bar with an angry scrape of metal on tile. He threw a twenty down on the table, something I’ve only seen done in movies and TV shows. “Come, Eric. Let’s go.”
“But I’m hungry,” I said, reluctantly sliding off my stool.
Steele held out half his sandwich to me. “Take it. It’s good, I’ll order another.”
“Thanks, man.” I took a bite as I hustled after Jake. It was good.
Outside the bright afternoon had turned overcast as a quickly moving storm moved in. Jake stood staring intently at nothing, one hand on top of his head, clutching his hair.
After calling him a few times and not getting a response, I walked up to him and touched him on the shoulder. His lips were moving silently. “Hey, everything okay?”
He blinked once, then turned to me, face bright. “Yeah, everything’s great.”
“Is Ryan stealing your clients?”
He scoffed. “As if he could.” He looked at the sandwich in my hand.
I held it out. “Bite?”
“Why not?” As the flavor hit his tongue, his eyes opened wide and then closed on a groan of pleasure. “Oh, that is good,” he said around a mouthful of fried shrimp and bread. “So good.”
Before he could deprive me of my delicious treat, I took it back from him. “Want to get some to go and eat it at home?”
“That sounds perfect. But I’m waiting in the car.”
“Why don’t you go get us something to drink while I wait?” I suggested.
“Deal.”
“Do you trust me to order for you?”
“Totally. Do you need anything else when I’m at the store?”
I took a mental inventory of my kitchen. “Pick me up a half-gallon of milk?”
“You got it.” He held his hand out for the car keys.
“Be gentle with my baby,” I said.
“I’ll treat her like my own child,” he promised. “See you in a few.”
14 Carson
It started to rain as we drove home, a real downpour that turned the interior of Eric’s ten-year-old Lexus sedan into a cozy intimate space. The food smelled delicious, and Eric sat behind the wheel, humming along to a playlist of songs we loved. I wished the drive was longer.
Eric lived in a neighborhood of old homes on wide tree-lined streets. There was no attached garage, just a barn-like structure near the back fence of the property. He let the car coast up the long concrete driveway, stopping outside a side door.