Me:I’ll pick some up later. Where are you?
“Tell him to bring me some food.” Bates slams the fridge shut, but it’s not intentional.
Oz:9122 Cambridge, meet up?
“He’s out and asking us to meet him,” I tell Bates.
He looks down at his jeans and T-shirt, which has the name of the electrical company he works for on the pocket, then up to me. “Whatever, I’m not showering.”
“You don’t need to look pretty for me.” I grab my keys and phone from my desk.
About seven minutes later, we’re turning down Cambridge. “Is he at a fucking frat house?” Bates ducks his head a little to see all the fancy ass houses we’re passing.
“He better not be, unless he just wanted a ride home, lazy fucker. Did he say anything else?” I hand my phone over to Bates for him to check while I’m driving, and he keys in my passcode.
“He said the driveway is off Granger. It is a house, man. What the hell?” Bates tosses my phone on the seat between us, clearly disgusted.
“That’s not a frat house.” I look out the passenger window, seeing a really nice white house with green shutters and a big ass front yard.
“Go around the corner. He better be waiting. I’m not fighting some girl’s dad he just got done hooking up with.”
I snort, remembering a time or two when I called him to help me get out of a sticky situation when I fucked around a bunch in high school.
I pull into the driveway but keep the bed of my truck near the road so I can back out quickly if I need to. When I don’t see him anywhere, I send him a text.
Me:Here.
His reply comes swiftly.
Oz:Come in.
“Fuck that!” Bates reads his message over my arm. “Just tell him to come out.”
Me:I’m going to leave your ass here.
I look into the rearview mirror and notice a nature park behind me. It triggers a memory of Oz telling me that Waylynn lived by a park near Hill Street. “Shit.” I look around at the manicured hedges and the house.
“What?” Bates looks around, following my gaze.
Oz:Whatever.
“We’re going in,” I announce, putting the truck in drive and pulling closer to the garage at a slow crawl.
“Why? All he said was whatever.” Bates opens his door, and it squeals like a motherfucker in this quiet neighborhood. Damn, why haven’t I ever noticed that before?
Like he was waiting for us to knock, Oz opens the door and leans against the frame with a grin so wide, you’d think he just discovered pussy for the first time. He steps back and casts his arm out to the side, allowing us to enter the house.
Bates curses, and I know the problem when he looks down at his boots. The white tile is clean enough to eat off of, and his work boots have seen better days.
With a defiant step, he stomps into the house, dirty boots and all, then shuts the door behind him. The rattle is hard enough that I hear it echo through some of the glass cabinet doors in the kitchen.
“Damn it, Bates, quit slamming shit,” Oz chastises.
“It’s okay,” comes her soft voice. I spot Waylynn standing near a huge marble island. Bates’ head leans to the side, and I watch his eyes scan her. Damn, I wonder if I was that obvious when I got my first real look at her.
Her cheeks are a little flushed, and it makes her hazel eyes look greener, but it’s her full lips turned in a slight frown that gets to me. “What are you doing here, and why did you invite us over?” I pose the question to Oz, but I don’t miss when Waylynn tucks her arm over her waist and takes a step back.
“We were going to watch a movie or something, and I thought you might like getting out of the house, but you can go if you’re going to be a dick,” Oz snaps at me.
