Always Crew - Tijan Page 0,45
cab and the rest of us could indulge.
So we did. I hadn’t intended to drink, but changed my mind.
After our second game, most people had left. Trundle came over and he started to bowl with us. When Zellman sniffed his drink, Trundle winked at him. “Don’t tell the boss.”
Jordan scowled at him. “You’re not driving, are you? That shit’s not funny.”
His head came up, the wink gone. “Uh, no. I’m not bad, but Brock’ll give me a ride.”
Brock. We were back to him.
We’d forgotten about him.
Jordan was the one who looked. “He’s gone.”
Trundle said, “He’s in the back. He stays while most of the customers are here, in case anything pops off, but you guys are the last ones left, so he headed back in. He does paperwork.”
Cross asked, “Does he work every night?”
“Most, but Gramps covers some of the other nights. Bonbon used to be in charge of the evening shifts, since she’s too nuts for the day stuff and all. She took off, though, so Brock’s been covering for her.”
Zellman grunted. “Guy’s a workaholic.”
“Well, he’s the owner.”
“Wait. What?” From me.
Trundle nodded at me, picking up his ball. We all had one last turn to go, and he stepped toward the lane. “Yeah. He’s the owner.”
“I thought Gramps and Bonnie owned it all?”
He shook his head, coming back after his turn. He hit four, then got the rest of his pins. “Nah. I mean, Hawk said something how they used to be the owners. Brock took over a few years back.”
“Does he have a hard-on for Bren or something?” Jordan was looking behind us.
Brock had come back out, heading for us. He stopped, his hand raised. “Finish up! It’s time to go.”
I stood for my last turn, and yeah, I was buzzed. Nicely buzzed.
I grinned at Cross, who saw my look and instantly started laughing. “Bren’s drunk.”
Zellman and Jordan shared a look.
Zellman thrust a fist in the air. “Yes.” He turned to Trundle. “Bren never drinks.”
“It’s because it’s Halloween and I’m pretending to be a college student.”
Trundle snickered. “I’m off to finish up. It was nice meeting you guys. Don’t be strangers.” He waved, taking off for a back door.
Jordan was frowning at the scoreboard. “Who won?”
Cross went next, got a strike. Second strike. Third strike. “I did.”
Jordan growled. “Not cool, but fitting. You’re the DD.”
Zellman picked up his ball. “I’m hungry.”
Cross was putting his and my ball away. He went up, waiting for us by the tables that we needed to pass for the door. “Is there a place open twenty-four-seven?”
“There’s a diner not far. It’s a college hangout. PubTown.” The answer came from behind the register.
Cross frowned at Brock, but skimmed over the rest.
Zellman and Jordan were trailing behind me.
“You guys want to eat there? Head home?”
“Uh.” Zellman tossed our emptied soda bottles in the garbage, then held up a hand. “Since I’m single, I say hell yes for the diner. There’s gotta be chicks there.” He clamped a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “Remember, he requested girls for a distraction tonight.”
Jordan’s smile was a little wobbly, just like mine.
It was then I realized Cross had a hold on the back of my jeans. He tugged me back into him, a small smile just for me. I loved when he gave me one of those. A little tingle raced through me, and even though I was either buzzed or drunk, I was still feeling it.
Cross tugged me farther back, his one arm going around my shoulder and curling around to rest over the front of me. I reached up, entwining our hands. He spoke over my head, “Then it’s settled.” He angled us out the door, adding behind me now, “Thank you for letting us stay late.”
“Yeah…Bren!”
Cross swung me around. I blinked a few times, focusing because Brock now had two heads. Both were swimming around his body. “Yes?”
“You can have tomorrow off if you work Saturday.”
I knew what that meant. Saturday was bail-bonds day. It was always one of their busiest nights. “Yes! Can I go in the field?”
He chuckled, closing the register. “Maybe. We’ll see.” He dipped his head down again. “Have a good night.”
I felt Cross lift his arm, but then we were moving back out and headed for Jordan’s truck. I asked as soon as we were inside, “Why do we always drive Jordan’s truck? Why not mine? Or yours?”
Jordan slid open the window between us. “Because my truck is the biggest.”
Zellman added, “And because he’s got a setup back here with sleeping bags,