“What? Your dad is a nice guy. Why couldn’t he go to dinner with us? Rio likes him, too.”
Opening my driver’s side door, I glare at him over the roof. “Are you serious right now or are you having a stroke? Because if you are, I’ll leave you here for the ambulance to pick you up.”
I hear the crackling of a wrapper and roll my eyes as he pops an ever-present sucker into his mouth, twisting the candy with his tongue so that the stick wobbly spins. He garbles around it, “You wouldn’t even take me to the hospital?”
Shaking my head at his absurdity, I duck into the car and upon shutting the door, I start the car, shouting, “I’m hungry!”
Dash gets into the car and petulantly yanks on his seatbelt. He removes his lollipop long enough to whine, “Ice cold, Jericho.”
I try to keep a straight face as I back out of the driveway. Still, I can’t resist the urge to shove the back of his head. “I’m kidding. I’d at least drop you off at the ER doors.”
Sitting up, he crams the orange sucker back into his mouth and says a mangled, “What a true blue pal, jerk.” I bite a smile as I pull away from the house.
We’re quiet as we head to Glen Burnie, backtracking to Baltimore, but it’s not far and it’s the halfway point, since Rio will just be getting off work. He’ll be away this weekend with his warden, so tonight is the only night he’ll be free for a couple weeks—also due to the fact she has Rio reserved for other shit. It’s infuriating me how she can just step in and prohibit my best friend from spending time with me anymore. With Dash’s motor mouth, I’d rather the bitch date him.
“He’s only looking out for you, you know.”
I momentarily glance at Dash, confused. “Who?”
“Your dad.”
“Oh. What the hell does that have to do with shit?”
He waves his nearly finished candy in the air. “The way you blow him off and think of him as your mortal enemy. It’s weird.”
“Drop that thing in my car and I’ll ram that stick down your throat.” He rolls his eyes and I argue, “Why does it matter to you anyway? Your dad is pretty great. He owns a strip club for Christ’s sake! Why do you care about mine?”
“Because yours is pretty damn great, too, and you need him.”
“I am not a little kid who needs his daddy to fix his problems.” I grip the steering wheel as I impatiently shift gears.
“I’m not saying that. He went through hell right along with you, if not more. You don’t even remember your mother leaving you. He does.”
I stomp on the gas, passing slower traffic. “Yeah, but he didn’t have to grow up without his mother.”
“Right, but all you do is complain about your grandmother or make fun of my mom. What really are you missing out on, if you think of it that way?”
I look at him in disbelief. “You’re actually suggesting that I’m crazy for being crazy? Rio’s the psych major. You’re a fucking elementary school gym teacher.”
“Yeah, and I had to take psych classes!”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was unaware that to be Richard Simmons, you had to study Barney the Dinosaur’s social anxiety and mommy issues.”
“I’m only trying to help!”
“Can we not talk about this? Fuck, Dash. What’s your problem?”
“I just feel bad for the guy when you treat him like he’s nothing.”
“Then on Father’s Day, you can send him a cheap card and give him the obligatory phone call.” I look at him again with suspicion. “Why are you acting like such a girl? Are you ragging it?”
“Yeah. That’s it.” Sighing, he shoves the sucker back into his mouth so he can check his phone and distortedly mumbles, “You’re definitely an Aries, through and through.”
Another fun fact about Dashiell Calder: he reads his horoscope every day and makes damn well sure that Rio and I have our daily dose, as well. It’s annoying as fuck, but they sometimes have some truth to them, weird as that may be. He alleges that an Aries is a born leader, independent and surprisingly, has an engaging personality. On the downside, we’re also very moody, have the propensity to be childish when we don’t get what we want, and we loathe taking orders from anyone.
That’s way off.
I pull into the parking lot and antsy as usual, Dash is out of the car before I turn off the engine. Looking out the passenger window, I see him jogging over to Rio’s black truck—the color of choice for all three of our vehicles.
Getting out of my car, I already hear Dash excitedly yipping at Rio about nothing in particular. When I’m closer, I see Rio rolling his eyes and hear Dash say, “Scorpio,” which makes me laugh because Rio has to put up with him now.
Dash reasons, “Like I told you before, Scorpios are extremely determined, loyal, temperamental on a dime, and control freaks.”
Rio coolly counters, “Yeah, and you also said we have excellent memories and rarely forgive, but never forget. So, before I hate you forever and never forget why, put a cork in it.”
When I stop next to Dash, I see his face fall. “Damn. Did you and Jericho take the same bitch pills this morning? I think it’s you two who are on the rag.”
Rio’s eyes lift to mine. “Hey, Beckett,” he greets with a relieved smile, probably because he doesn’t have to listen to Dash alone.
River Duquesne—Rio, as I came to call him in college for the Spanish word of his name. He’s the quiet one, but you know what they say about those fucks, and it’s all true. He’s also the pretty one, which he hates being called. Girls love his habitual facial scruff, chaotic brown hair, and orgasmic blue eyes. Ever since Dash referred to Rio’s eyes that way, it’s the only description that comes to mind now. Asshole. Rio and I met right after we had started college as freshmen, although we both were going to different colleges. Rio was majoring in psychology at Towson University, while I was studying civil engineering at Johns Hopkins. I needed a job nearby to pay for my car and insurance, so I got one at Target, where Rio happened to work since high school. He showed me around and helped me not look like a total fuckup. We became immediate friends, which surprised the hell out of me. The next semester, we even took Spanish at the same time so we could help each other. Then our sophomore year, we found an apartment between our campuses and moved into that so we wouldn’t have to live in the shitty dorms. We actually shared some similarities. The biggest one was that we lost our mothers when we were kids. He lost his mother to ovarian cancer when he was 16, which was unusual for someone her age. He said she died shortly after being diagnosed. Rio had majored in psychology to help people with their losses, but then he decided that becoming a physician assistant was what he really wanted. Currently, he works in a gynecology/obstetrics practice. I think he’s looking for that one to save to honor his mother. I admire him for that, but think it’s futile because it won’t bring her back. However, if it gives him some sort of peace, why not, I guess. In spite of that honorable, yet misguided, reasoning, I have to razz him for hanging between legs all day for money. That absolutely cannot be helped.
I slap Rio on his gray-T-shirted shoulder as we turn to walk inside. “What’s up, doc?”
Shaking his head, he mutters, “Same old, same old.” He looks over his shoulder and then past me before shrugging. “I can’t complain.”
I laugh and give his shoulder a shake. “You never do.” I probably could torch Rio’s truck and he still wouldn’t complain. Much. He’d break my legs with a baseball bat, but he’d do it without complaint.
We walk into the building and Dash does the talking, as usual, shamelessly flirting with the hostess, who happens to be gawking at Duquesne instead. Again, as usual. Glancing at the floor with his hands in his pockets, Rio doesn’t normally acknowledge any attention he gets from females, since it makes him uncomfortable. Cool and collected Rio is rather socially awkward when it comes to the opposite sex. On the other hand, I don’t even care. If I want to talk to a girl, I approach her first. I can’t comprehend how Rio snagged a girlfriend, l
et alone a mouthy one. I’ll never win any congeniality contests either, so I’m guessing he must’ve showed her his dick first. It had to have been something like that.
We’re escorted to our booth, where Dash excitedly slides across the shiny, dark green bench.
The hostess asks, “Is this booth okay or is there anything else I can get for you?” She looks at Rio, who’s staring down the front doors like he wants to bolt.
I nod at Dash. “He could probably use a kid’s menu and some crayons.”
He scrunches up his face in a pout and after the hostess leaves, gripes, “Kiss my ass, Jericho.”
Since Rio is sitting in the middle of the other seat in the booth, I sit down next to Dash, and laugh at his sulky expression before I try loosening up Rio. “How was work, Duquesne?”
Ever cautious whenever he discusses his job, he shifts in his seat and carefully answers, “It was fine.”
I steadily ask, “Did you get into any hairy situations?” He frowns, but doesn’t answer, which I take as an invitation to carry on. “How much you make in tips?”
His sharp look could crack pavement. “Hilarious.” Rio checks his phone for the fifth time since sitting down, no doubt waiting for permission to take a piss.
Dash leans forward with a wicked smile. “Come on, Diet Dr. Pussy, nothing happened today?”
He tears his eyes away from his phone with a glower aimed at Dash. “Bite me, Douche Calder.”
Looking between Dash and Rio, I laugh and shake my head just as our waitress stops at our table. Dash and I order beers and then look expectantly at Rio to do the same. However, he orders a goddamn Pepsi.
I reach over my chest, pointing at Dash. “Shouldn’t you be carding him?”
She pauses then opens her mouth to say something. Dash leans forward and mumbles, “Damn it.” Moving beside me, he slides his license across the table before she has a chance to ask. I laugh and Rio cracks a smile.
When we’re again left alone and Dash is stuffing his license back into his wallet, my smile dwindles as I suspiciously glare at Rio, opening his menu. “Why didn’t you just order chocolate milk? At least you could keep the cup.”
Baffled by my comment, he guardedly watches me for a few seconds before asking, “What’s with you?”
“I just thought you were going to drink a beer with us.”
“Why’s it matter what I drink?”
Sitting back and crossing my arms, I sneeringly ask, “Aren’t you out of your shackles tonight?”
Before he can reply, a voice from behind me shouts, “Why Dr. Duquesne! Is that you?”
I look behind me to see a pudgy, hunched over artifact, who appears to be wearing pajamas of some sort. Her hair is white and stringy, and her pale skin sags, resembling that of a basset hound’s face. She’s holding onto a walker with one hand and waving to Rio with the other.
One of Rio’s patients.
Holy shit.
Stunned by her decrepit appearance and knowing that Rio has to see her naked, I instantly turn to look at him as he glances past me, slapping on a smile. “Mrs. Selznick. It’s nice to see you.”
I mumble to Dash, “At least with her clothes on this time.”
Dash whispers, “Fuck me.”
I whisper back, “Do you want me to ask her for you? Then again, she may break you in half.” He pinches my arm and I jerk away from him as I return my attention to the looming train wreck before us.
She finally makes it to our table without collapsing. “Now, now. I told you to call me Gert.” The smell of Ben Gay, some ancient perfume, and impending death, mixed with the light smoke from the grill, assault my nose and I subtly lean closer to Dash, whose Backstreet Boys or Michael Jordan cologne is now greatly appreciated. If I could put my nose against his neck and not look like I’m trying to make out with him or suck his blood, I would be all over him.
Duquesne contends, “And I told you I’m not a doctor, and to just call me Rio.”
I’m pretty sure Grandma Moses can’t hear me, so I quietly inform Dash, “He just pretends to be one to get into their pants.” Unfortunately, Rio isn’t deaf and he subtly pounds his fist on the table, without a doubt warning us to shut our mouths.
“Oh, hush. Rio is that damn movie my grandkids watch.” My fist automatically goes to my mouth to stifle a howl. Without looking at me still, Rio irritably clears his throat and anxiously pulls on the edge of his menu, which only makes me laugh more, causing a chain reaction with Dash.
She goes on, “Who cares about if you’re official? You deserve that title with all that you’ve done for me.” Fuck, the mental pictures coming to mind are going to keep me awake for years.
She turns to Dash and me, and I miraculously keep a straight face somehow. She points to Rio and loudly exclaims, “This young man found my polyps, and since they’ve been removed, I’m pain free! He’s such a prince!” She claps her hands together and grins at Rio. “My uterus thanks you!”
Our waitress picks this exact moment to deliver our drinks. Hearing that bit, her eyes pop open along with her mouth. No longer staring at Rio in awe, she instead looks scared now. She stammers that she’ll return for our orders and makes a hasty retreat.
Once more hiding my mouth behind my fist, I try like hell not to blatantly laugh. Dash isn’t so capable as I feel him shaking beside me, no doubt covering his mouth with his arm in an effort to be stealthy, yet looking anything but. I can’t look directly at him or I’ll definitely lose it.
Fed up with us, Rio steely glares at Dash and me with a telepathic fuck you, absolutely wanting to knock our heads together before strangling us both.
She pats him on the arm, which makes his face turn a bright red. “Have a good evening, doc.”
As she waddles away, Dash and I are no longer able to contain ourselves, leaning against each other and gasping for air.
Looking horrified, Dash leans forward and urgently whispers, “You have to see her naked?”
Still in disturbed awe, I say to Rio, “Holy fuck. Remember in The Shining how that kid was called “Doc,” and when that naked chick suddenly turned old? That was—”
“You two assholes need to knock it off,” Rio seethingly interrupts me, but it only serves to make us laugh harder.
“I’m so sorry, Prince of Polyps,” Dash wheezes in between laughs.
Swallowing my own laughs, I staggeringly add, “Your Majesty, I’d spread my legs for you, but I don’t have polyps or a pussy.”
He narrows his eyes, darting them wildly back and forth between Dash and me. “She’s a very nice lady and she’s my patient, so cut the shit.” He irritably glances over our heads and his frown immediately converts into a smile, inexplicably forgetting what just happened. Instantly curious, Dash and I turn to look, but don’t see anyone behind us.
Apparently, we were too slow because next to our table, a familiar, nasally voice says, “Hi.”
Whipping our heads around at the same time, Dash and I see Liberty sliding in next to Rio, kissing him on the mouth.
Right in front of me.
And where I’ll be eating my food.
And stealing the air I breathe.
What the fuck?
Dash cheerily says, “Hey, Liberty! Nice to see you! You’re having dinner with us?” Clenching my hands tightly and glaring at the side of Dash’s head, I’ve never wanted to throttle the living shit out of someone as much as I want to right now.
“Yeah, if that’s okay?” No. You need to get up and drive somewhere far, far away. Like Taiwan.
Dash delightfully answers for me, “Of course it’s okay!” I can’t believe killing someone with a look doesn’t work. Fucker.
“Jare?” Didn’t the asshole next to me just answer? Do I actually have to verbalize an answer, because I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to hear it.
“What?” I stupidly ask as I finally look away from Dash, who is purposefully ignoring me. Grabbing my beer, I morosely open my menu and pretend to peruse the options.<
br />
“Aren’t you going to say something?” Rio asks with an underlying edge.
Without looking up from my menu, I dutifully reply, “I guess I’ll order the buffalo burger.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he states, sharpening that edge.
Dash kicks me from the side and I turn to glare at him again, clinching my jaw shut. How in the fuck did I get into this situation? All I wanted to do was spend time with my best friends. Not that ball-busting skank.
Still glowering at Dash, because that’s the only place I can look without vomiting the food I haven’t even eaten yet, I angrily sigh and mutter a compulsory, “Hey, Libby.” She hates that, so it makes me smile and for Dash to kick me again.
“Jerry.” And I hate that.
Touché, bitch.
I fleetingly glance at Rio, giving him a brief but unmistakably irritated glare, before forcing myself to look at Liberty. Her blonde hair is taco-shell yellow, slightly darker than Dash’s color, and her eyes are blue, just like everyone else’s at this table, except mine. However, unlike Rio’s or Dash’s, her blue eyes remind me of a choking jellyfish.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
“I invited her,” Rio snaps, boring his eyes into me. Perching my elbows on the table, I shake my head and look away.
As our waitress cautiously returns, we all give her our orders. Not really interested in eating anymore, I sit back and start picking at the corner of the label on my beer.
When she walks away, Rio sharply repeats, “I invited her.”
I continue giving my bottle all of my attention, but spare effort to curtly respond, “Because you had no choice.”
I know she is shaking her head. I can tell because I hear her large, silver hoop earrings metallically swishing along with her ponytail. “River asked me to come.” River. Besides the prehistoric fossil that was just at our table, Liberty refuses to call him Rio. On the other hand, if she did, I think it would also piss me off just because it’s coming from her.
“Jare,” Rio says calmly, yet making it all the more menacing.
I reluctantly look up from the bottle to the bitch across from me and fume, “Can’t you let him have a night to himself?”
The Keys to Jericho Page 3
