“We’re done here,” Jake said. “Come on, Ollie.”
Dirk poked him in the chest. “You can get fucked, too.”
Shadows passed over Jake’s face. Even with a view of his profile, I clocked the shift from cool to ‘oh, you’re in for it now.’ Dirk was stupid to think of trying it with a guy who’d lost his eye and suffered through some serious drama as a witchcop. Even saw his relationship with Dean Tseng fall apart—and they’d been one of those couples representing the ideal endgame in matters of love. They’d even planned on getting married and starting a family, only for things to fall apart.
I wouldn’t let Dirk speak to this legend like he was dog dirt on his shoe.
“Rein it in,” I warned. “Wash your mouth out a bit.”
Dirk poked Jake again. “You sucking him off now, Squishy?”
That nickname. That damn nickname he’d given me after Ben and the cheese comment.
I glowered, my bag sliding off my shoulder.
My former friend chortled, smiling as if he’d stolen a bag of sweets from a kid.
He bared his teeth in a grin.
Jake cracked him in the gob with a punch so swift it made my head spin. Yikes. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of it.
Dirk stumbled back, holding his mouth with wide, open eyes. He mumbled behind his hand, his friends surrounding him nervously.
Jake cracked his knuckles. “Come on, Ollie. We’re going.”
A guy called Gary lunged at him. Jake spun him, pinning his arms behind his back. “I wouldn’t, wanker.” He shoved the agent forward, his friends catching him.
No one else tried it, just gave us death stares instead.
Blood seeped through Dirk’s fingers as his muffled voice continued to ramble on. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but knew for sure it’d be hateful.
Yep, time to go.
I grabbed my bag, following Jake into the lift, and kept my head down.
“We’ll report you for this,” a woman complained.
Jake shrugged. “Go for it. I’ll do the same.” He pushed the button for Floor Eight.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have done that,” I said.
“Why not? Gob shites like him need a punch from time to time.”
The lift made its ascent.
“You won’t get in trouble?” I asked.
“Let them bollock me, mate. I’m not standing for trash talk.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“I should’ve…” I sighed, a heavy veil of defeat pressing down on me. The sign of me being done with the day. I needed my bed, my alone time to escape the world and recharge enough to face tomorrow.
Damn Dirk.
Damn the rise in unwanted memories.
