My stomach washed with disgust but Asher’s fingers dug into me, grounding me. “What are we going to do here, Cam?” he said. “There’s only two of us and eight of them.”
“I’ll handle it.” Cameron inched forward, the air around him charged and dangerous.
“Hailee, come here.” He gave her a reassuring nod, and slowly Hailee rose from the chair. But Thatcher’s hand clamped down on her shoulder.
“Not so fast, baby, we’re just getting—"
“Get your hands off her.”
“Or what, Chase? You’re a lover not a fighter and I don’t see Ford anywhere, do you?”
Anticipation crackled in the air, the whole diner watching on with fascination. A few cameras were aimed in the direction of the stand-off between Cameron and Lewis Thatcher and I knew it wouldn’t be long before it was all over social media.
“You don’t want to do this, man.” Cameron implored, holding his hands up. “It’s a public place, people are filming.”
Hesitation flashed over Thatcher’s face, enough for Cameron to grab Hailee’s hand and yank her toward him. “Go.” He flicked his head toward us, and she hurried to Asher’s side.
“Maybe we should call Jason,” she said.
“That is the last thing we want to do right now. Your boy can handle it.”
“What’s going on here?” Tate appeared looking flustered. Planting his hands on his hips, he glowered at Thatcher. “You know the rules, Son. I won’t have you coming in here disrespecting—”
“Easy, old man.” He held up his hands, backing away slowly “We were just getting a bite and then leaving.”
Leaving my ass.
If Tate hadn’t showed up right when he had, we all knew things could have ended very differently. But Lewis Thatcher tipped his head toward the door and like good little minions, his teammates filed out of the diner, Tate following them out for good measure.
“Tell Ford we’ll see him soon.” Thatcher blew Cameron a kiss. “Nice seeing you again, Hailee.”
Asher released me and threw himself into Cameron’s path. “Don’t do anything stupid, bro.” He pressed his hand against Cameron’s chest.
“I’m cool,” he said, wrapping his arm around Hailee. “Let’s go sit down.”
“You mean let’s wait until it’s safe to leave?” I said unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “What the hell was that?”
Asher and Cameron led us over to one of the booths at the back so we had a little more privacy. Hailee scooted in next to Cameron and Asher pulled me in next to him.
“He’s gunning for blood.” Asher scrubbed his face.
“Well, he ain’t going to be gunning for blood in my place again.” Tate appeared, his brows bunched together. “Cameron, good to see you, Son.”
“Hey, Tate. I’m sorry about—”
“Now now, there’s no need to apologize; but I won’t have your little rivalry spilling into my business, you hear me?”
Cameron nodded, his jaw set.
“We had no idea they would show up here,” Hailee added, the color finally returning to her cheeks.
“Yeah, well, the little shits planned it. A couple of them caused a distraction out back, or I would have been here sooner. You’re more than welcome around here anytime, you know that. But not if—”
“We got it,” Cameron said. “It won’t happen again.”
But it was promise we all knew he couldn’t keep. Lewis Thatcher did what he wanted. No one could stop him from coming around here, except the police. And like the Raiders, the Rixon East Eagles were virtually untouchable.
Tate didn’t look convinced, but he skulked away, mumbling something about ‘football madness’. Few people in Rixon were anti-football. In fact, in my whole life I’d only ever known three people who weren’t obsessed with the game: Hailee, Tate, and my mom. It was just a part of life here.