I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Al of a sudden Tex boomed again. This time he pointed at the couch in front of the window with a wide arc of his arm, the espresso filter in his hand. A pot of used, soggy grounds went flying across the room to splat on the floor in front of the couch. The people preparing to sit on the couch jumped away from the splattering grounds.
“What now?” Nick muttered from beside me.
“You! Yeah you!” Tex boomed, shaking the filter at a couple standing frozen in front of the couch. “Do not put your asses on that couch. The Law is sittin’ there with her uncle. Move!”
“Tex, we’re fine,” I said, my eyes on the scurrying customers.
“Stop scaring the customers,” Indy snapped over my words, her hands were on her hips, “and stop tossing the portafilter around.
You’re
getting
coffee
grounds
everywhere. Do you ever clean them up when you do that?
No! I clean them up. Jet cleans them up. Jane cleans them up. Does Tex clean them up? No, Tex does not clean them up!”
Jet was giggling, hips leaned against the back counter, arms wrapped around her middle. Al y was grinning like a loon. She grabbed a towel and hustled towards the couch to clean up the grounds.
I was thinking if I had one birthday wish, I would start the day again and miss Fortnum’s (and getting caught by Nick wearing nothing but a sheet though I’d keep the shower with Vance, it was fast but it was nice).
“That’s the best goddamned seat in the house,” Tex explained to Indy, cutting into my thoughts, “and Law’s sittin’
there.”
“Tex –” Indy began.
“No lip!” Tex slammed down Nick’s cappuccino next to my special and the foam sloshed over the sides. Then he looked at me. “Sit!”
“Al right, we’re sitting,” I said, smiling at him, hopeful y placatingly, “calm down, big man.”
Tex glared at the next customer, the unfortunate who’d opened his mouth. “She’s a badass motherfuckeress.
She’d kick your ass soon as look at you. You’ve clapped your eyes on The Law. Count yourself lucky, sucker. Now, what’l it fuckin’ be?”
I looked at the ceiling. Then I looked at the customer who was now staring at me and shook my head with an apologetic wince.
“I see you’ve given up on keepin’ a low profile,” Nick remarked, walking with me to the couch.
I decided to keep my mouth shut. I heard Vance laugh softly beside me. I threw him a frown. Then his laughter became not-so-soft.
Whatever.
We settled on a couch, me by the arm, Vance on the arm next to me, Nick on the seat on my other side.
Nick took a sip of his cappuccino, his eyes got big and he stared into his paper cup. “Now I understand why they put up with him. This coffee is great.”
I just nodded and took a sip of my own and decided
“great” didn’t do it justice.
Nick’s hand went into his jacket and he pul ed out a long, thin box, wrapped with pink paper topped with a little pink bow. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes warm on my face, handing the box to me.
I slammed my special on the table in front of me and clapped. I couldn’t help it, I loved presents and Nick’s presents were the best.
“What is it?” I asked stupidly.
“Open it,” Nick smiled at me.
I took it and ripped into it like a girlie girl (I did have a reason, seriously, his presents were the best). I tore off the paper and threw open the box.
Then I froze.
In it was a silver bracelet, a beautiful silver bracelet. It was made of hammered, matte silver squares each about an inch wide held together by smal links. Each square was different, some had etchings, some pieces of gold or copper soldered on to them. Four of them had stones of varying shapes, sizes and colors.
“I had it made special,” Nick told me and started pointing, “that one’s blue topaz, your mother’s birthstone.
That one’s garnet, your father’s. That’s peridot, for Mikey.
The last one’s amethyst, for Reba.”
At his words the weight hit me in the chest again so hard my body moved with the force of it. I leaned back and I felt Vance’s warm thigh against my back. My throat closed and my vision got blurry.
“Nick,” I whispered.
Nick looked at me then started talking fast. “Now, Jules, don’t start. If you start, I’l –”
“Where’s your birthstone?” I asked, my voice soft and it sounded croaky.
“That bracelet represents your family,” Nick explained.
“Yeah. I know,” I replied, my voice stil sounding funny.
“Where’s your birthstone?”
“Your real family, Jules,” Nick said softly.
I stared at him a beat then I slowly leaned into him, put my hand on his knee and looked in his eyes. “Yeah. I know,” I repeated. “Where’s your stone?”