Pike (The Pawn Duet #1) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,57

who’s the chick with resting bitch face?”

Pike looks up at me like he, too, is just noticing that I’m here. “Right now, she’s my prisoner.”

“And later?” the boy asks.

Pike stares at me and blows out a breath, brushing the hair back from his forehead. “Who the fuck knows, kid.”

I clench my fists. “You don’t need to talk about me like I’m a dog, napping in the corner. I’m here, and I can speak for myself.”

Jo Jo ignores me and scrunches up his nose. “She hanging with us tonight?”

Pike grins and leans against the glass counter, crossing his feet at the ankles. “Let’s just say she ain’t going anywhere.”

Jo Jo shrugs as if he’s accepted my less than wanted presence and again heads to the back room when his movements knocks the hat from his head. He picks it up, and when he stands, he reveals what I never thought was hidden underneath. Thick, long, wavy blonde hair.

He sets the cap backward and continues up the stairs. I look to Pike who saw the same thing I did but doesn’t look the least bit surprised. When I hear the door shut, I swing my head toward Pike. “That rude little thing is a girl?” I ask, realizing how it sounds.

“What? You think only boys can be assholes? That’s sexist. This is twenty-twenty. People don’t think like that anymore.”

“Did you just tell a joke?” I ask, cocking my head to get a better look at the abstract of a man before me, but nothing becomes clearer except that he might have undiagnosed multiple personality disorder.

“Does that offend you as well or just girls that dress like boys?” he asks, padding over to the stool.

I growl in frustration. “No, you ignorant ass. I’m not offended, but I am surprised that she was hiding that beautiful hair under that beat-up ball cap. Or do I call her a he? How do they identify?”

Pike frowns. “Whose identifying as what? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“So much for knowing things in twenty-twenty,” I mutter, then clarify. “I’m asking if the kid prefers to be addressed as he, she, or they.”

Pike nods in understanding. “She, but that changes every so often.”

Now, I’m the one confused. “Shit, maybe, I’m not with the times. I didn’t know it can change like that.”

Pike chuckles, and I grow annoyed at the enjoyment he’s taking in my confusion. And even more annoyed that I wanted him to kiss me again earlier by the cello. I didn’t get much sleep and couldn’t even toss and turn because every time I did a part of me would come into contact with a warm muscles part of him and start the whole restless sleep all over again.

“No, Jo Jo is Josephine. She’s a girl. She identifies as a girl. She likes boys, but also likes to beat them up. But she dresses as a boy or girl depending what foster home she’s in and which gender will keep the creeps at bay and cause her less problems. One of the older boys likes to pick on the little boys? Then, she’s a girl. If the foster dad looks at the other little girls a little too long to be parental? She’s a boy. She feels out the situation within a few minutes. She’s pretty talented like that, and it’s kept her out of a heap of fucking trouble.”

“Smart,” I acknowledge. Although, I feel sad that she even has to do something as drastic as hide her gender to keep her safe.

“It is,” he agrees. “She’s a survivor. Just like I was. And if she ever gets into trouble she can’t manage, she comes here.” He takes out his phone, and that vein in his neck begins to throb. “Which reminds me.” He presses a few buttons. “Hey Badger. Pay Betty a call tonight.” Pause. “No, don’t tell her you’re coming. Make it a surprise. She’s having people over, and I know how much you love to crash a party.” Pause. “No, just a small reminder of her responsibilities will work.” He hangs up.

“A small reminder of what?” I ask.

“That I’m not to be fucked with.” His mood is darker now. He leans over me and tilts my chin up to meet his gaze. His touch heats my skin. “Something I keep trying to teach you.”

“I guess I’m not as quick of a learner as I thought,” I reply.

“No,” he shakes his head slowly, rubbing his thumb over my lip. “There’s something that sounds a