“Why don’t you go home?” A asked.
The kid hung his head, and if there was a rock to kick, he would have.
“Mal,” she pushed.
He looked up at her. “Mom’d know I was home if I went home, you know?”
Oh shit.
“That was part of our deal that I didn’t share what went down for it to happen,” she said low, also now visibly seriously pissed. “I trusted you, Mal. You promised and I trusted that you would tell your mom you’d left group.”
“She’d be disappointed, Arch.”
Christ, with the way he said that, now Jag felt for the kid.
It took all of two seconds for A to say her next.
“You’re back in group, but I swear to God,” she pointed at him, “you blow it again, I’m going right to your mom. Do you hear me?”
Mal nodded.
“Give me the backpack, J,” she ordered Jagger.
Jagger handed it to her.
She unzipped it, took a big box out of it that had a picture of a game controller on it, complete with carrying case and other shit (Who needed a carrying case for a game controller? What? Did folk take their controllers on vacation?).
She handed the backpack to Mal.
“Back to the store, brother, your mom’s not home for at least an hour.”
Mal nodded to A, swung his head to Jagger, then he looked back to A.
“Why hasn’t your man been at the store?” he asked.
“Back to the store, Mal,” she demanded. “Now.”
“Whatever,” he replied, but he didn’t move.
“That’s backtalk, not walking back to the store,” she pointed out.
Mal rolled his eyes.
A crossed her arms, still holding the big box in a hand.
“Whatever,” Mal repeated, then started walking out of the alley.
A and Jagger watched him.
But A did it shouting, “And I’m not punk! I’m not anything but me!”
Mal said nothing in response before he turned the corner and disappeared.
When he did, afforded an opportunity he hadn’t had in a very long time, and not about to waste this one like he did the others, Jagger got right in her space.
“First, what’s your fuckin’ name?” he asked.
“Archie,” she returned, bellying right up to him in return.
Archie?
“What’s your fuckin’ name?” she asked back.
“Jagger,” he told her. “Your name is Archie?”
“Yes, my name is Archie. Your name is Jagger?”
He grinned at her. “Touché.”
She didn’t grin back.
“Now…store?” he continued.
“I have a shop, about seven what I’ve recently discovered are very long blocks from here.”
“A shop?”
“A shop.”
“What kind of shop?”
“Albums. Books. Home stuff. Gifts. Local artisan things. Shit I like. That’s why it’s called S.I.L.”
“Your shop is called Sil?”
“S.I.L. on the Hill.”
He’d heard of it.
He’d also heard it was fucking awesome.
But he wasn’t a shopper so he’d never been there.
“Okay, then,” he went on. “Lionel Richie koozie?”
“It has his picture and ‘Hello, is it me you’re looking for?’ on it.”
Jag busted out laughing.
Yeah, he’d never been there, but it definitely sounded like her shop was awesome.
“Jagger,” she called.
He pulled his shit together, doing this primarily because he liked how his name sounded in her mouth so much he couldn’t focus on anything else.
He gave her his gaze, but before she could say anything, he asked, “Group?”
“There’s folks in the ’hood, where I live, where my shop is, who can use a break. I give ’em a break.”
“What kind of break?”
She shifted, and her body language shifted with her.
She also vocalized this change.
“Jagger, you don’t get twenty questions.”
“I just chased a kid into an alley for you and got called a pedo. Repeatedly.”
“I would have caught him.”
He shot her a look.
Then he vocalized that look.
“Babe, you were goin’ down. I saved you two hundred bucks.”
“I guess that’s the least you could do after you left me high and dry for four years.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Say what? High and dry?”
“You know, not being there when I needed you.”
The back of his neck started tightening.
“When you needed me?”
“Are you gonna repeat everything I say?”
“Are you gonna fill in the blanks?”
She stared up at him.
But now she was doing it like she’d run into an ex who she’d fallen head over heels for and he’d cheated on her.
And yeah, his neck was constricting something fierce.
He dipped his face closer to hers and said quietly, “Archie.”
“You know it doesn’t end, Jagger,” she replied curtly. “It never ends.”
Oh yeah, he knew that.
He knew when you lost a parent too early, that hurt never went away.
Even if you didn’t remember that parent.
It just never went away.
But she knew her mom.
So that had to be worse.
“Talk to me,” he urged.
She shook her head and took a step away. “I gotta get back to my shop.”
“I’ll walk you there.”
“Don’t bother.”
She made a move.
He caught her arm.
She stopped moving, glanced at her arm, then aimed her eyes to his.
“We’re done talking,” she informed him.
“We haven’t even started and we shoulda started ten years ago.”
“Yes, we should have, but we didn’t and now it’s too late.”
“What’s too late?”
“Jagger, let me go.”
“Archie—”
“Is your brother good?”
At that question coming out of the blue, the contraction in his neck got a whole lot worse.
“Yeah,” he said carefully.
“Well, my brother went off the deep end, man. He and my dad barely talk. He’s constantly an asshole. He hurts people with seemingly no remorse. My family fell apart. And it would have been nice to have you around so you could tell me how you all kept yours together.”
With that, she yanked her arm free and jogged away.
Jagger let her, not because he was done talking to her.
Not even close.
But because, clearly, she needed space.
So he’d give it to her.
And he would because now, he knew how to find her.
Chapter Two
In or Out
Jagger
Tomorrow, cool?
Jag stared at his brother’s text, thinking it was not cool.
But it was what it was.
And what it was, was that Dutch and his woman Georgie wanted Jagger over for dinner.
That would never be a problem, both his brother and Georgie were good cooks, and if they got busy, they had a fantastic relationship with DoorDash.