Claire opened a cupboard over the sink and took out a stack of plates, putting them on the counter. Her plates and bowls were pretty pastels, reminding me of spring and Easter eggs, and somehow now of Claire herself.
"So, what's for dinner?" she asked.
"Hope you like Italian."
"Does anyone actually not like Italian food," she asked with a wink. She went to her wine rack and pulled a red. I had the sudden urge to swoop in, dip her, and kiss her madly on the kitchen linoleum. Claire was laid back in my favorite way. You could tell she was the kind of person who adapted to change easily. She was passionate about who she was and what she did, and it didn’t seem like she’d compromise that for anybody. Maybe with the exception of Skylar.
"Everything smells so good," Sky said, walking into the room.
Skylar looked like a new person, much different than the girl I'd found. Her dark eye makeup was scrubbed off, and I could see just how young she truly was. Her eyes were clear, and her cheeks pink from the hot water. She’d piled her long blonde hair into a messy bun and she was no longer in skimpy clothing, but rather a comfy grey sweat suit that I gathered was Claire’s as the skinny kid was swimming in it.
"Hey there, sunshine, look at you," I said, smiling at her.
"Any chance you got lasagna in here," she asked, peering into the bag. “It’s my favorite.”
I grasped my chest in mocked outrage. "What kind of monster do you think I am? Of Course, I did! And ravioli, and spaghetti, and tortellini, garlic bread, a caprese salad and tiramisu for dessert."
“Yum! Skylar said. She put her hands together and jumped up and down. She looked like a little imp who’d just run out of the forest instead of a teenager who’d been trafficked and god only knew what was done to her.
As we were just about to sit down to eat, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I groaned as I pulled it out and saw the text.
Bullet: I need to see you. I'm at the clubhouse. Now
"Fuck," I said under my breath. The slip earned me a death glare from Claire and more contagious giggles from Sky. "What? I'm positive she's heard that word before."
"He's right. I have," Sky said matter-of-factly.
"I just rather it not be used around here," Claire said. A cute little frown formed on her forehead. “I mean, if we can help it. I know we’ve all said it and heard it before, but let’s save it for somewhere besides the dinner table.
Claire folded her hands and appeared to say a silent grace. Skylar followed suit and I closed my eyes for lack of better table etiquette.
"I'm sorry. I've got to go; something has come up. Y'all enjoy the food, and I'll try to pop back in as soon as I can."
"Ok," Claire said, “Is everything okay?” She got out of her seat and walked me to the door.
"I really don't want to leave," I whispered. “Sorry to bust in and ruin dinner. I’m not normally so—”
"Sought after? It's okay I know you're a busy man."
I reached out and grabbed her hand and felt jolts of electricity course through me when we touched. Claire lit me up inside and suddenly I had more to look forward to than I had in a long time. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, wishing it were so much more. "I'll make this up to you. I promise," I told her.
Claire was right. It was a date and I felt like a jerk for walking out on her.
When I got to the clubhouse, it was already full. All the guys were drinking, laughing, and having a good time, nothing seemed out of sorts. I thought I was responding to urgent business, but nobody was around. What the hell did I ruin my dinner with Claire and Skylar for?
"What's going on fuckers?" I asked. A few guys turned around and stared. They knew I meant business, didn’t ever come in to get drunk or fuck around. The barkeep looked at me and nodded before Bullet walked toward me. He was a large man, around six-four, usually quiet and always severe, heavy eyebrows slashed across his deeply grooved forehead. "Bullet, what's going on? You made me abandon my date."
"We need to talk," he said.
I followed him to the backroom, and he closed the door behind us. "What's up, man?"
"You know that kid you beat up?"
"The little rapist? What about him? Patriot cleaned the mess up."
"He's connected. It's been a bit more of an issue than we initially thought."
"Fuck," I said. I pulled a seat out from the large round table and fell into it. "He a cop or what? Christ!" I scrubbed my face with my hands. I didn’t need any trouble, I pathologically had enough on plate any day of the week. The cops in town were notoriously crooked, complete pieces of shit, if you asked me. Some of them were on the up and up, but so many were committing crimes to fatten up their own wallets, it was hard to tell who was the real criminal anymore.