Groaning, I attempt to word something less cringe, but after deleting a few in a row, I give up. Better to leave it at one cringy message than end up with a volley of cringy messages.
“Rafferty,” Warren’s voice sounds from behind me. I only jump a little bit, then turn slowly, brows raised in question. Hisright eye is already swelling, his split lip oozing slightly, making me feel a bit better for the stings and aches on my own person.
He eyes me for a moment then says, “Can we call a truce…please?”
“You gonna talk shit about my wife?”
“Jesus Christ, Ren,” he mutters, appearing a bit shamed at the reminder. “No, I won’t. I never woulda if I’d known, you have to know that.”
“And attempting to shiv me while my back was turned?”
He rolls his eyes then sighs. “It wasn’t real.”
I cock my head slightly, as if I’m having a hard time hearing him. “Excuse me?”
His expression turns sheepish as he explains, “I just wanted to fuck with you. Give you a good fright. The knife wasn’t real.”
“For fuck’s sake, Warren, you can’t do that shit.”
“I know, I know,” he responds, hands palm-up in front of him. “I’ve learned my lesson, believe me.”
“You’re lucky Declan warned you,” I mutter, shaking my head at his juvenile idiocy. “You could’ve ended up seriously injured over a prank.”
Warren’s bark of laughter lacks all humor. “You ain’t kiddin’.” He looks around nervously then leans in, whispers, “Who would’ve thought that Declan Hughes would be such a stone-cold killer type?”
I raise a hand, point at him as I retort, “And no one ever better be the wiser either.”
He steps back, shakes his head. “Nah, I won’t say anything, I swear.”
I give him a good once over, not noticing any obvious tell that he’s full of shit. I sigh then say, “If you wanna make it in this game, you’re gonna have to grow the fuck up.”
He scowls, and I can tell he wants to say something snarky, so I hold up my hand and add, “Believe me, I would know. I’msure you read about some of the questionable shit I pulled when I was your age.”
He half smiles and nods. “Yeah, I may have. You did have a wild streak there for a while.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I retort. “But one day I woke up and realized that the kind of future I wanted for myself wasn’t paved by the life I was living. And I changed. You can too.”
“And if I have no grand aspirations for the perfect life like you?”
I laugh, shake my head. “Then just keep on doing what you’re doing. But maybe less douchey.”
His eyes narrow, but then he grins, sticks his hand out in offering. “As long as you keep telling me where that line is, that won’t be a problem.”
I eye his hand suspiciously, not quite trusting this new side of Warren, but also wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt. So, after a brief pause, I grasp his hand in mine—maybe a touch tighter than necessary—give it a hearty shake. “Deal.”
Warren pretends not to wince, then releases my hand and turns away with a little nod. I watch him go, suddenly feeling a bit lighter, even if my face is starting to throb a bit.
Then a hand slaps my shoulder, “Hey man,” and I jump, turn toward the hand and the familiar voice. “Goddamn it, Dec, who keeps letting you back here?”
Declan grins. “I don’t know their name.”
“How do you keep getting back here, again?”
He looks at me as if I’m the stupidest person who ever existed then retorts, “I’m Declan fucking Hughes, Ren. There is no how.”
Some of the guys around me are twittering already, proving his point that all it takes is the fact he is who he is to get people to notice and do his bidding. It helps that he’s also a standup guy, but still. “I’m gonna have to speak to security.”
Declan leans his head back, laughs loudly. Then he immediately sobers and responds, “I also carry a lot of cash, just in case.”
