“No. Seeing as how I don’t even have a gym to work out at right now, my training is on hold until I can get back to it.”
“So, you gonna have a cheat meal then? Your favorite?”
I lift one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “Sure. Why not?”
“Carl!” Nettie yells over her shoulder. “Pancakes for our boy.”
“Damn it, woman. Can’t you write the stuff down and then come over and give me the letter about what to cook?” Carl complains as he works at pouring out batter onto the griddle in the kitchen that’s visible to all the customers.
“You know it works better when I tell you what to cook as we go,” Nettie fires back. Then, she quickly repeats the same scenario with Anna’s order. “You know, Xavier, Cole took over his daddy’s gym. You ought to go check it out. He’d be glad to see you.”
Damn. I’ve only been here a few hours, and already, Nettie has dragged me down memory lane more today than she has in the past few years.
Cole Parker is one person from the old neighborhood I wouldn’t mind seeing. We were tight back in the day because we’d broken out of the street life at the same time. It bonded us because we’d pissed off the crew that ran The Block.
Nettie and Carl had made it clear that if I wanted to stay here with them, I was to have nothing to do with the people I used to hang with. And Cole—well, his father was in his life, and when he’d gotten word that Cole was getting mixed up with the wrong crowd, he’d intervened.
It’s good to hear that he’s doing all right for himself.
“Thanks for the heads-up, Nettie. I’ll check it out.”
The sound of Anna’s cell ringing catches my attention. She fishes it from her back pocket, and her eyes widen as she glances down at the caller ID. Her hand flips the phone around for me to see the words Tension Writers illuminate the screen.
“Should I answer it?” she asks in a voice that’s only a few octaves above a whisper.
More than anything, I want her to answer that phone and tell whoever is on the other end of the line to fuck off and that she’s not coming back to the show without me, but we both know that wouldn’t be a wise move.
“Answer it,” I advise her. “There’s no way around talking to them.”
She sighs and then hits the green phone button on the screen. “Hello?” There’s a pause as she listens to person talking. “Okay. I understand that, but—well, no, but—”
I curl my fingers and then flex them back out, trying to stop myself from making fists and pounding on the table. Whoever is speaking to her is being rude as fuck. They keep interrupting her, and it’s pissing me off. They have about two seconds to change their attitude with Anna, or I will jerk that phone away and make the person on the end of that line wish they’d never rung her number.
Nettie must see the aggression on my face because she places her hand on my shoulder. She leans down next to me and speaks only loud enough for me to hear, “Calm down, baby. Let your girl handle this. She’s smart. She’ll make the right move.”
Her words sink into my brain, and I and take a deep breath.
“Trust her. She’s a good one.” Nettie kisses my cheek before rushing over to Carl.
Nettie gets me. She can tell when I’m about to lose my shit. Then again, she’s had years of practice with me, learning the signs.
“All right. I understand. No, it won’t be a problem. Yes, I’ll be there.” Anna pulls the phone away from her ear and stares at the screen. She blinks a couple of times and then lays it down in the center of the table. She flicks her gaze up to mine. “It seems I was supposed to be at the show tonight.”
My lip curls of its own accord as I find myself fucking appalled that they wouldn’t even give her a few days with me to get shit sorted out before they expected her to be back at work. “That’s horse shit. If they wanted you there, they should’ve made that call on Tuesday and put it on your schedule.”
Her pink lips pull into a tight line. “I didn’t really have a schedule, remember? I just officially became a part of the show when I stood beside you for that match. They probably figured that I would be there with you tonight.”
“Just because you’re with me doesn’t give them an excuse not to tell you if you are expected to be at a show. I was given my schedule long before I was sent on vacation to Detroit. It required me to be at every show Tension put on.”
She frowns. “According to the head writer of the show, Vicky, I’m to attend every show for the next month—every Thursday, Saturday, Sunday and Tuesday show.”