Another kid jumps on my back and starts punching the bear head, and then another one and another one, and I stagger around with ten kids on each leg. “Get off me, you fuckers,” I cry with my hands around the first kid’s neck. He escapes and punches me right in the balls, and I snap.
I rip the bear head off. “Diego. Get off the fucking phone,” I yell.
The kids all scream and run for cover.
“You!” I scream to the devil child. “Where is your mother?”
I hear a voice. “You’re fired.” I turn to see the tyrant, hands on hips, looking furious.
“You can’t fire me, because I quit,” I yell. I drop-kick the bear head into the crowd, and the kids all scream. “And I pissed in your suit,” I yell.
Not really . . . but in hindsight I should have.
I storm over to Diego and snatch his phone. “Get me out of this suit before I strangle you!”
HAYDEN
“You did great today, Hayden.” Maria, my new boss, smiles. “See you tomorrow?”
“Thanks.” I smile. “I had a great first day.” And I did too. This job is a dream.
I walk out the front doors and into the street, and I see a man standing on the sidewalk in the shadows, and my step falters. It’s midnight, not the time when people are just standing around.
I hear a familiar voice. “It’s me, Grumps.”
“Christopher.” I frown. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I came to walk you home.”
“That wasn’t necessary.”
He holds something out for me.
“What’s this?”
“I brought your cardigan. It’s cool.”
Oh.
Chapter 11
“I mean”—he pauses as if feeling stupid—“I just thought . . . I thought you might be cold on the walk home.”
I stare at the cardigan in his outstretched hand.
So thoughtful. Damn it, I’ve been hating him all day, and now he goes and does something sweet. “Thanks.” I take it from him and put it on. “You didn’t need to come and collect me.”
“It’s sketchy here,” he replies as he walks along beside me. We fall silent, and there’s an awkwardness between us that isn’t usually there. Christopher and I are a lot of things; uncomfortable with each other has never been one of them.
“Do you want to go and get a drink or perhaps some dinner?” he asks.
I am hungry. “Sure.”
We walk along until we find a little bar and restaurant. “Table for two, please?” he asks the waiter.
The waiter looks around. “We only have the bench seat by the window.”
I glance over to the bifold windows he gestures to. There is a high counter that faces out onto the street. Christopher looks over to me for approval.
I nod. “That sounds great.” We take a seat. “Thanks.”
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
I quickly pick up the drink menu. Damn it. If I’m going to lie to someone’s face, I at least need a good drink to do it to. “I’ll have a margarita, please.”
“Do you have Patrón tequila?” Christopher asks.
“Yes.”
“Then make that two.”