“She’s in the ‘Stang,” Wood growled back and Tate looked back at him and I could swear, for some reason, if anyone moved it would set them off and they’d jump and rip each other’s throats’ out.
“Flower Petal!” I heard, I braced for mayhem but turned to see Shambles, his long hair flying out behind him, his blue-tinted, round glasses on his nose, he was carrying a plate with a napkin on it and what looked like pieces of bread and he was running toward us.
“Hey Shambles,” I called.
He skidded to a halt at our grouping and smiled at me, oblivious to the bizarre tension that was curling insidiously through the air.
“You didn’t come for coffee today,” Shambles accused good-naturedly.
“That’s my next stop,” I told him.
“Groovintude!” he shouted.
“Is that your banana bread?” I motioned to the plate with my head.
“Yeah!” he yelled. “Been wanderin’ the sidewalk all mornin’ handin’ it out. Like, five people took a bite and then walked right to the shop to get themselves a slice. You… are… genius!” Shambles answered on another yell.
“Great,” I smiled at him then pulled in breath, turned to the boys and declared, “That banana bread is the best you’ll ever eat and you can get it right down the street.”
I saw all the men were staring at Shambles like they didn’t know what to make of him but what they were coming up with they didn’t like all that much.
Then Shambles looked around the forecourt and his eyes came to me.
“You got car troubles?” he asked.
“No,” I answered quickly before anyone else could say anything. “Just need an oil change and stuff. Though, my car’ll be here for awhile.”
“Okay, that’s groovy, Sunny and I’ll swing by the hotel and pick you up before we go home. You come up early, you can help me smush chick peas for the hummus.”
Thank God for Shambles, unexpected but welcome problem-solver.
“That’s perfect,” I told him.
“Awesome!” he cried. “Be at your place at five-ish.”
“See you then,” I said and he looked at the guys and stuck his plate to them.
“Bread?” he asked.
“Pass,” Tate growled, glaring at Shambles.
“No,” Wood growled, also glaring at Shambles.
“I’ll take a piece,” the gray-haired man said and then took a piece, popped it in his mouth and chewed while Shambles watched.
“Well?” Shambles asked.
The gray-haired man looked at me and stated, “You’re right, sweetheart, that shit’s great.”
“Right on!” Shambles yelled.
“You should taste his coffee,” I said to the gray-haired man, “heaven.”
“May do that,” he mumbled as Tate and Wood remained staunchly silent.
“Speakin’ a’ that, Flower Petal, you haven’t had your fix,” Shambles put in.
“Oh, right, yeah,” I muttered then turned to Wood and held out my keys. “I’ll be back on Monday?”
“Need your number,” Wood replied, taking my keys and Tate got tense at my side again.
“My number?” I asked, forcing my eyes to stay on Wood.
“Yeah, baby, need it if we find somethin’ you need to know about,” Wood replied, he wasn’t tense and his voice had gone gentle and him calling me baby in that gentle voice, I had to admit, I liked.
“I don’t have a number,” I told him. “I’m at the hotel.”
“Ace,” Tate bit off quietly and I looked at him to see, for some reason, he was shaking his head.
“You don’t have a cell?” Wood asked and I looked at him.
“Well, I do, it just isn’t charged and has a Phoenix number. I haven’t charged it in four months.”
All the men stared at me, including Shambles, but it was Tate who spoke.
“Babe, what in the fuck are you thinking?”
I looked up at him and saw that, just like anytime I was around Tate, I’d done something to piss him off.
“Sorry?” I asked.
“Jesus, honest to God, are you insane?” Tate asked.
“Why?” I snapped, because, just like anytime I was around Tate, he did something to piss me off.
“A woman alone without a goddamned phone?” Tate went on.
“Yes, so?”
Tate turned fully to me and got closer. “So?”
“So?” I repeated.
He looked over my head and muttered, “Christ almighty.” Then his eyes came back to mine. “You got a death wish?”
I put my hand to my hip and asked acidly, “Captain, tell me, how does me not having a cell phone translate into me having a death wish?”
“It ain’t safe,” he answered.
“I’m standing here breathing, aren’t I?” I shot back.
“Way you’re goin’, Ace, I give you a month,” he returned.
“I can take care of myself,” I snapped.
“You aren’t in suburbia anymore, babe,” he informed me.
“Yeah, I’m not,” I retorted and leaned into him. “Duh!”
Tate’s face turned to stone.
It would seem, considering I continued to speak regardless of Tate’s stony expression, that I might have a death wish.
“Jeez, Captain, it’s a town filled with bikers, not Viking marauders!”
That’s when I watched Tate’s face turn to granite.