Yeah, she had to watch that movie.
This meant ditching the shop so she could watch during the day because Jagger had her nights.
She gave Haley a squeeze, Haley squeezed back, and when they let go of each other and turned to Andy, they saw his eyes were bright with tears.
“Such a lovable lug,” Haley said softly.
She was so right.
Archie went to her dad, kissed his cheek, got another hug, and felt like a loser bitch that she’d made him wait this long to witness his two girls connecting.
She’d make amends later, starting tomorrow night.
Now she had to get to the theater.
She’d already blown off a pickup from Jagger, who wanted them to go to the movie together.
And by the time she hit the Chez Artiste theater, she was cutting it close to the movie starting, and was five minutes late for when they agreed to meet.
Jag was waiting for her with the concessions he’d already bought.
And Archie felt that sleeping dragon shift when Jag saw her, and she knew he wanted to ask why he couldn’t pick her up and why she’d barely made the screening time.
Giving him permission not to share, she’d somehow taken away his ability to ask.
She didn’t push about something important, and he was returning the favor—with everything.
But she hadn’t asked for that favor.
More, she didn’t want it.
After giving him a greeting kiss, she grabbed her drink and the nachos, he had the popcorn and his own drink with the Milk Dud box poking out of the back pocket of his jeans, and they hit the theater.
They were seated and settled before she leaned to him and shared, “I had to pop by my dad’s. I needed to talk to him about something and it ended in me bonding with Haley. Also realizing I’ve never really bonded with Haley. That’s a longer story I’ll tell you after the movie.”
“Cool, cool,” he muttered, grabbing a chip loaded with ridiculously yellow cheese and more jalapeños than she’d be able to deal with, and she liked it spicy, and shoving it in his mouth.
“Baby,” she called.
He looked to her.
“You know you can ask me anything, right?” she queried.
“Yeah,” he said, going back to the chips and turning again to face the screen as he chewed.
She caught his jaw and brought him to face her again.
“I’m serious, Jag.”
“I didn’t think you weren’t.”
The lights dimmed, and since they couldn’t get deep into this during a film (not to mention, she was a trailer girl), she let his jaw go and went after her own chip.
But she couldn’t focus on the trailers.
Because somehow, she’d messed up.
Now she needed to figure out how to fix it and evidence was suggesting going right to the source, that being Jagger, wasn’t the way she could do that.
It was clear he was a get and give kind of guy.
She gave him headspace, and he was determined to return it no matter that she didn’t need it.
And that was all kinds of sweet.
But that didn’t negate the fact she didn’t need it.
So she needed to find another fix.
Archie had the feeling she’d find the path to that fix watching a documentary she really, seriously wanted to see.
And she was completely dreading watching.
Chapter Thirteen
Boys Like You
Jagger
Outside the school, Jagger sat on his bike next to Dutch, who was also sitting his.
They’d found a place just around the corner where they could see the entrance to the school, but you’d have to be looking to see them watching.
They were this way because they didn’t need anyone getting up in their shit about what they were doing.
It was bordering on creeping.
But Jagger wanted answers.
Since that sitch with Mal the week before, Jagger had made a point to hang at the store, mostly just to be around, be visible.
Be available.
For Mal.
Mal hadn’t taken him up on this in the way Jagger wanted, sharing what might be going down at school (or after it) that continued to drag his mood down.
That didn’t mean Mal didn’t respond to Jagger being around.
They connected.
It was surface, but definitely Mal got something out of Jagger giving a shit.
Could be it elevated his position in the kid gang at the store, having Jagger’s attention, Jagger being Archie’s, Archie being so fucking awesome.
Could be he just needed a consistent man in his life since his dad was temporarily out of the picture, and Fabe didn’t play favorites, but he was also at work, and his work wasn’t hanging with the kids, so he didn’t have the time.
“What’s the gig with his dad again?” Dutch asked, bringing Jagger out of his thoughts and into the now.
His convo with Archie that weekend got him to thinking.
It also prodded him to reach out to his brother, share what Archie did for her community and get into what was going on with Mal.
He finished this with sharing with Dutch that he thought it was time for some sleuthing, and asked him if he wanted to join in.
First, Dutch thought it was the shit that Archie stepped up for her people that way (and he was right).
Second, Dutch hadn’t hesitated when Jagger asked if he wanted in.
And there they were.
Jag felt good about this.
It was right. Two brothers hanging together, working something important. It was how it should be.
And maybe he should go to his ma and Hound, share about Archie, her kids and Mal and get their take on it.
One thing Keely and Hound Ironside knew was raising boys.
But for now…
“The dad’s in the military. He was transferred. He’s now stationed in one of the Carolinas, and he’s currently deployed,” he answered Dutch’s question. “But I get the sense from Archie that the dad isn’t an issue.”
“But the kid doesn’t talk about it?” Dutch asked.
“Nope,” Jagger answered, thinking this said a lot, just not certain what it said.
Dutch didn’t ask about the mom. Or the sick grandma.
He asked about the dad, like the dad might be an issue, when in this case, the dad wasn’t an issue.
But that was Dutch’s first go-to.
And there it was.
It was a thing, boys and their dads.
It wasn’t just Jag.
It totally was a thing.
On this thought, Mal came out of the school.
And he did it walking fast.
This heightened Jagger’s attention, since Mal wasn’t doing anything fast these days. He still slunk around the store like he had shoes made of concrete.
“There he is,” Jagger said.
“Which one?”
“Black kid. Jeans. White tee. Gray hoodie.”
“Got him.”
Jag’s back snapped straight when he saw what came next.
“And there are the twins. The two white fucks following him.”
Watching Mal walk like he was trying to look like he wasn’t running away, but was totally running away, Jag rolled his head on his shoulders.
While he did, he felt—and heard—three pops.
They were so deep, Dutch heard them too. Jag knew it when he felt Dutch’s eyes on him.