I stared up at him. "What are you doing?"
Ignoring me, he stepped across the table and jumped casually onto the floor.
My mouth fell open. "Are you leaving?" With all the drama, I guess I couldn’t blame him. In fact, I decided, maybe that was the smartest thing. "On second thought," I said, "that's probably a good idea."
Joel gave me a look. "The hell it is."
Now, I didn't know what to think. Unsure what to do, I slid out of the booth to stand beside him.
He asked, "What are you doing?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "The same thing you're doing, I guess."
His jaw tightened. "Sit back down." He paused. "Alright?"
Before I could even consider it, I heard Derek's voice, calling out over the distance. "Hey! Asshole! I hope you like jail, because you're fuckin' going!"
I whirled to look. Suddenly, I couldn’t see Derek at all, because Joel had moved to stand in front of me.
Confused, I peered around his back, only to realize something that I should've picked up on earlier. The way it looked, Derek had been yelling at Joel.
My stomach clenched. Derek was one of my oldest friends. And Joel was – well, I didn't know what he was exactly – but I definitely didn't want trouble for either one of them.
I shifted forward and tried, unsuccessfully, to put myself between the two guys. But no matter what I did, Joel moved with me, blocking my path, even as Derek continued to plow forward.
I made a sound of frustration. "Stop that."
Over his shoulder, Joel said, "No way."
"Why not?" I asked.
"You know why."
Okay, maybe I did. It was the sight of Derek, who was still shoving his way forward. A moment later, Derek stopped, directly in front of Joel and demanded, "You hear what I just said?"
Joel gave something like a laugh. "Dude, the whole place heard you." He glanced toward the nearest exit. "You wanna take it outside?"
I blurted out, "No!" I lunged around Joel and placed myself not exactly between them, but close enough to join in their discussion, assuming you could call it that.
Both guys turned to look. Neither one looked happy with the move.
Derek glared at me. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Cassie jumped to her feet. "We're here celebrating her birthday, not that you seem to care."
"Yeah?" Derek said. "Well, maybe I've got more important things going on."
Cassie glared at him. "Or maybe, you're being an ass."
Ignoring Cassie's insult, Derek turned back to Joel and said, "The cops are on the way, so I suggest you stick around."
Joel looked utterly unconcerned. "Yeah? Why's that?"
"Three words, asshole." Derek straightened. "Grand theft auto."
My stomach sank. Oh, God. I should've known this would happen. I should've made Joel return the Camaro before anyone spotted it.
Instead, what had I done? I'd let him leave the Camaro at my place while he drove me here in my dad's car.
I froze. My dad's car.
Joel laughed in Derek's face. "That's the best you got?" He spread out his arms. "You wanna hit me? Don't be a pussy. Bring it on."
I spoke up. "Wait!"
Again, they both turned to look.
Dreading what I had to say next, I looked to Derek and said, "By any chance, you don't mean the Porsche, do you?"
Chapter 23
Derek still looked on the verge of exploding. "Hell yeah, I mean the Porsche." He pointed to Joel. "This asshole was seen driving it, alone, a couple of hours ago."
Now, it was my turn to glare. "Oh yeah? Where?"
Derek gestured toward the rear of the bar. "In that parking lot." He offered up a cold smile. "If we're lucky, we've got it on tape."
My gaze narrowed. "Who's we?"
Derek straightened. "I've got my sources."
No doubt, he did. Derek's dad was a big fish in this tiny pond of a town, which meant that Derek, by association, had this irritating way of finding out everything that went on, even things that were none of his business.
"Yeah?" I said. "Well, maybe he was driving it, because I asked him to."
Derek stiffened. "What?"
"Yeah," I continued, "and it seems to me, you would've figured this out…" My voice rose. "…considering that I'm standing right here, with the guy you're accusing of stealing my car."
Derek gave a derisive snort. "Your car?"
I hesitated. Now, this is where things got dicey. The whole estate, including the Porsche, was in some sort of legal trust. But I was allowed to live in the house, and yeah, use the things associated with it, so I didn't see the problem.
The car was stored in the garage below the guest house, just like the silverware was stored in the kitchen. As long as I put everything back when I was done, it was never an issue. I mean, I drove my mom's car all the time, and no one gave me grief about that, did they?
As if sensing weakness, Derek gave me a smug smile. "Well?"
He could smile all he wanted. I wasn't going to back down, not this time. I lifted my chin. "Yes. My car, which means it's none of your business."
Derek gave a bark of laughter. "So that's the defense?"
"No defense is needed," I told him, "since no crime was committed. So just forget it, okay?"
"Forget it?" he repeated.
Next to us, Cassie chimed in, "Yeah. Just like you forgot her birthday." Under her breath, she added, "Ass-hat."
Derek's mouth tightened. He turned to Cassie and said, "I got her something, so stop harping on me, alright?"
Cassie crossed her arms. "Oh yeah? What'd you get her?"
Derek's gaze shifted to Joel. "I'm still working on it."
Well, that was rich. Was Derek still trying to act like that whole painting stunt was for my benefit?
I told him, "Don't bother. I don't want anything painted."
"Forget the painting," Derek said. "We're talking about the Porsche." His voice rose. "And you let that dickweed drive it? What the hell were you thinking?"
Joel's voice cut through the noise. "Hey, dickweed. If you're pissed about the car, you can deal with me, not her."
As thankful as I was, I couldn’t agree. After all, Joel had only driven the car as a favor to me, because I couldn’t drive a stick.
I turned and gave Joel a pleading look. "Thanks, seriously. But no one has to deal with anything, okay?" I turned back to Derek and said, "Besides, you're leaving anyway, right?"
Derek gave me a thin smile. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes. I would, actually."
"Well, forget it," he said. "I'm not going anywhere. Not 'til the cops show up."
I made a sound of frustration. "But why would they? It's my car."
"Wrong," he said. "It belongs to the trust."
I threw up my hands. "You know what? Fine. I hope the cops do come. And I hope they make a big, ugly scene, so you can explain to the whole world why I'm not allowed to use something that my own dad left me."
I almost felt like crying. Maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe it was the fact that I'd been dealing with too much of this over the last few months.
Derek's voice softened. "Stop exaggerating. We let you live there, don't we?"
Heat flooded my face. Not for the first time, I felt like some imposter, bumbling around in a mansion that wasn't my own. Trying not to show my humiliation, I said, "You're not letting me do anything. It's my house."
Derek smiled. "Is it?"
Showing a lot more bravado than I felt, I said, "If it's not, take me to court."
Derek looked heavenward. "I can't take you to court. You're represented by our firm."
"Great," I said. "Then you can waste lots of money, suing me and defending me at the same time." I crossed my arms. "I hope you've got lots of time on your hands."
"That's not the way it works," Derek said, "and you damn well know it."
Actually, I knew shockingly little about how everything worke
d. I did know that Derek's dad was supposedly my lawyer. And he was also the lawyer for my parents' estate.
But I knew all sorts of other things, too – that the property taxes had gone sky-high, and that most of the money set aside for maintenance and repairs had been diverted to pay those taxes, and that, worst of all, I couldn’t do a darn thing about any of it until I turned twenty-five.
That's when I'd fully inherit – not just the house, but any remaining funds, along with full control and responsibility.
That was still four years away. Sometimes, it felt like forever.
Cassie said, "Hey Derek." When he turned to look, she pointed toward the front entrance. "Your swat team's here."
We all looked. Sure enough, I spotted Officer Nelson hustling in through the main entrance. He was short and squat, with a big white moustache that covered nearly a third of his good-natured face.
I liked him. He was a regular at Cassie's Cookies and had a real thing for chocolate. I stood on my tiptoes and waved him over.
Derek said, "What are you doing?"
I gave Derek my snottiest smile. "Getting this over with."
"You can't do that," he said. "I'm the one who reported it."
Ignoring Derek, I called out, "Officer Nelson! Over here!"
His face broke into a friendly smile, and he started lumbering in our direction.
Derek was looking almost nervous now. "What are you gonna tell him?"
The sudden change made me pause. "Why? Are you worried?"
"No."
I studied his face. "You are. Aren't you?" And that's when I realized something. Derek wasn't nearly as sure of his position as he claimed. The way it looked, I'd thrown him off by calling his bluff.
Probably, his little script called me to apologize profusely and promise to never, ever take out the Porsche again. After all, that's how things usually went when it came to estate business.
Funny, I'd never really pushed the issue before. So why was I now? Was it because I had Joel and Cassie backing me up? Or because I'd had one shot too many?
Either way, I wasn't giving in. Not tonight.
Chapter 24
Five minutes later, it was mostly over.
Derek, in spite of his attitude earlier, had said surprisingly little during the whole encounter, which ended with me giving Officer Nelson an apologetic smile. "So anyway," I concluded, "sorry for the misunderstanding."
"Aw, that's alright," he said. "Got me off the desk for a few." He looked to Cassie. "See ya Monday?"
She gave him a little wave. "See ya Monday."
As Officer Nelson lumbered toward the exit, Derek said, "What's going on Monday?"
Cassie said, "Chocolate day at the cookie shop." She lifted her chin. "Officer Nelson's a regular."
"Well, goodie for you," Derek said, turning back to me. "Speaking of Monday, I'm gonna have a mechanic look over the Porsche." He gave Joel a warning look. "To make sure nothing's damaged."
Joel said, "You should. The clutch is slipping."
I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. What was a clutch? Sadly, I had no idea.
From the looks of it, neither did Derek. His eyes narrowed. "What?"
"The clutch," Joel said. "When's the last time you had it checked?"
"Hey!" Derek barked. "I don't answer to you."
"Good thing," Joel said, "with the sorry job you're doing."
Derek took a single step forward. "Listen, asshole…"
I jumped between them and looked to Derek. "A mechanic? Great! And while you're at it, have them fix the other car, too."
Derek frowned. "Your mom's car? What happened to that one?"
I shrugged like it was no big deal. "It stalled at the campground."
"What campground?"
"You know. The one a few miles from my house."
Derek stared at me. "You took the car camping?"
"No." I hesitated. "I was visiting a friend."
Derek's gaze shifted to Joel. "A friend, huh?"
I nodded. "Yup."
Looking more annoyed than ever, Derek said, "You got funds for the repair?"
No. I didn't, actually. But that was partially my point. I forced a smile. "I dunno. Do I have 'funds' to have someone look over the Porsche?"
"You know what?" Derek said. "Forget it. You wanna deal with the cars on your own? Fine by me."
"Great," I said. "It's fine by me, too."
Was it fine? Probably not. Supposedly, I had two cars at my disposal. Unfortunately, the one I normally drove was stuck at the campground. As for the other one, I didn't even know how to drive it.
I bit my lip. What would I do now? Maybe it was time to pull out my bike and get peddling. That might work, until winter, anyway.
Derek gave me a long, penetrating look. "What's up with you tonight?"
"Nothing."
"Yeah, whatever. But the attitude's getting old."
My jaw dropped. "My attitude?"
But already, Derek had turned to go. Without so much as a goodbye, he stormed out the same way he'd come in, with lots of pushing and shoving.
Next to me, Cassie, "God, what's his deal lately?"
I shook my head. "I wish I knew."
"Well, at least he's gone."
I sighed. "Yeah. Until next time, anyway." I looked to Joel, who had shown remarkable restraint during the whole ugly encounter. I said, "I'm really sorry."
His eyes filled with humor. "About what?"
He had to be joking. Mentally, I ran through the list. Let's see. I'd involved him in estate drama with my sticky-fingered relatives. I'd dragged him to a party where he was the only person not drinking. And then, as the grand finale, I'd almost gotten him arrested for grand theft auto – twice, if I counted the thing with the Camaro.
I had to admit, "I'm not sure where to begin."
"Forget it." He smiled. "Not a big deal."
"How can you say that?" I asked. "I've caused you loads of trouble."
"Tonight?" He gave a loose shrug. "That was nothing."
I looked to Cassie, who appeared just as confused as I felt. Reluctantly, I looked toward the rest of my birthday party, who'd been sitting in awkward silence during that whole scene with Derek.
I gave them an apologetic look. "I'm really sorry about that."
April said, "You shouldn’t apologize. Derek was a total dick." She frowned. "Funny, I remember him being a lot nicer."
"Yeah," I sighed. "You and me both."
Chapter 25
I woke to the smell of burnt pancakes. Smiling, I jumped out of bed, threw on a pair of shorts under my oversized T-shirt, and was down the stairs in a flash.
Sure enough, I found Aunt Gina in the kitchen, looking flustered like she always did whenever she tried to cook. She was petite and freckled, with a mop of dark hair that fell loosely over her eyes as she studied the gas stove in obvious frustration.
When I moved closer, she looked up. "Hey! There's my birthday girl!" She paused. "Even if I am a little late."
"Actually, you're early. I thought you weren't coming 'til tonight."
She smiled. "Surprise!" She looked toward the stove, and her smile faded. "Damn it. Those look like shit."
I looked. On the griddle, I saw four black smoking blobs. They didn't look terrific. But they looked a lot better than her last attempt. "They don't look so bad," I said.
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right." She reached out and turned off the stove. "Screw this. I'm taking you out."
A half-hour later, we were sitting together at a table for two at the local pancake shack. Aunt Gina leaned forward. "So…" She smiled. "You never told me. How'd you like him? He was pretty hot, huh?"
Instantly, an image of Joel flashed in my mind. He was pretty hot. And sweet. And wonderful. And yeah, kind of scary, at least when it came to Derek.
I recalled the previous night. The final hours had passed in a blur, with more shots, more dancing, and more laughing with my friends.
Afterward, Joel had dri
ven me home and practically carried me inside, only after checking the place for wayward thieving relatives.
At the memory, I felt a warm glow settle over me. Aside from the ugliness with Derek, it had been the best birthday in a long, long time.
Joel was a big part of that. I never got that kiss, but he had mentioned seeing me again. If I was lucky, it might even be soon. But obviously, he wasn't the guy my aunt meant. I said, "You mean the cowboy?"
She slapped her hands, palms-down, on the table, making her coffee cup rattle precariously. "Heck yeah, I mean the cowboy. I heard he was awesome."
"Where'd you hear that from?"
"From him. Who else?"
I laughed. "Seriously?"
"Well, yeah. I asked him to call me when it was done." She gave me a wicked grin. "He said you really got into it."
I bit my lip. Technically, it was April who really got into it. But I hated the thought of saying so. "Well…" I hesitated. "About that…"
"What?" My aunt studied my face. "He wasn't lying, was he?"
"Uh, no," I stammered. "That's not it. He was great, honest." I let out a long, frustrated breath. "It's just that, well…" I winced. "You promised. Remember?"
She gave me a confused look. "Promised what?"
Did I really need to remind her? "No more strippers. Come on. You do remember, don't you?" I tried to laugh. "I'm pretty sure I begged. Literally. On my knees and everything."
"You weren't begging," she said. "You were scrubbing the floor."
Okay, technically, that was true. But still, I had gotten up on my knees while the actual pleading took place. That had to count for something, right?
I gave her a look and waited.
After a long pause, she sighed, "Yeah. I remember."
"So…?" I prompted.
"So…?" She shook her head. "What?"
Feeling like I giant heel, I forced myself to continue. "So, last night, even though you promised not to, you sent another stripper."
"No, I didn't."
Okay, when it came to strippers, I was practically an expert, unfortunately. Again, I waited.
Something Tattered (Joel Bishop Book 1) Page 9
