Chapter 9

A few minutes later, I was standing outside the car along with Jake, Trey, and the stranger, who was throwing a massive hissy-fit. Two policeman – one about my parent's age, and one not much older than me – were trying to sort through the whole ugly mess.

Around us, the crowd hadn't moved. I could see why.

The big guy was yelling, "Arrest this motherfucker, right now!"

"Sir," the older policeman said in a bored tone, "I'll tell you again. Let's keep it clean, alright?"

"And I'll tell you again," the stranger said. "Arrest him now, or you'll be hearing from my lawyer." The stranger turned to Jake. "And you'll be hearing from my lawyer too. Got it?"

"Yeah?" Jake said with a look of polite interest. "What does she look like?"

"Who?" the guy said.

"Your lawyer."

"It's not a 'she'," the guy said. "It's a 'he.'"

"Oh," Jake said. "Then forget it."

"God, you are such a pig," I said.

"No law against that," Jake said. He turned to the younger of the two cops. "Is there?"

"No sir," the policeman said.

"Sir?" I said under my breath.

The officer turned to face me. "What's that?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing."

When the older officer went to retrieve something from the police car, the younger officer lowered his voice and said, "I know I shouldn’t ask, but can I get your autograph?"

"You arrest him," the stranger said, "and then we'll talk. Maybe get you some good seats too."

"Sir," the officer said, "I wasn't talking to you."

I looked around. Then who was he talking to?

"Got a pen?" Jake asked.

Grinning, the officer pulled out a pen and small notepad. He thrust it in Jake's direction. "Can you make it out to Seth?"

"You got it," Jake said.

As I watched, Jake scribbled something onto the officer's notepad and handed it back.

"This is such bullshit," the stranger said. He pointed back toward his own vehicle. "Look at my car. It's a fuckin' mess."

I turned to look. It was a mess. The front grill was smashed in, and the gold hood ornament was dangling sideways from the crumpled hood. While we'd been talking, Trey had sidled away from Jake and was now circling the stranger's vehicle. Trey stopped near the back of the car and studied the license plate. He grinned.

I returned my gaze to the stranger. His car wasn't the only thing that was a mess. The guy looked like he'd been put through the ringer, literally. His shirt was ripped, his hair was soggy, and his face was swollen and smeared with streaks of blood.

I glanced over at Jake. His bloody shirt looked nearly shredded too, but his face was surprisingly unscathed. It seemed odd, considering he'd taken at least one punch to the face, and probably more. I squinted for a better look. Other than a scrape across his cheek, he looked the same as always.

My gaze traveled from his full lips to his dark eyes. Catching my eye, he gave me a wink. My stomach fluttered, and I felt myself swallow. I gave my head a quick shake. I wasn't a teenager anymore, so there was no need to act like one.

I was done crushing on Jake Bishop, no matter what he was doing to my insides. With an effort, I pulled my gaze from Jake's and zoomed in on Trey, who'd just returned from checking out the stranger's car.

Trey cleared his throat and tapped the guy on the shoulder.

The guy whirled on him. "What?" he bellowed.

"Your tags are expired," Trey said.

"Huh?" the guy said.

Trey pointed toward the guy's vehicle. "The license plate. The sticker says last year."

"Fuck off, pipsqueak," the guy said.

"Sir," the older cop said, returning from the police car, "for the last time. Cut the profanity." He glanced toward the guy's car. "And," he said, pulling out a citation book. "Did you know your plates are expired?"

"Told ya," Trey said. "So who's the pipsqueak now?"

"Get bent," the guy muttered.

The older cop finished writing a ticket and handed it over to the big guy, who snatched it out of the officer's hand and said, "I'm still pressing charges."

Across from him, Jake laughed. "For what?"

The guy glared over at him. "Assault, vandalism, reckless driving." His gaze narrowed. "Being a douche."

"I haven't been called that before," Jake said.

"Actually," Trey said, "you have. Just yesterday, in fact."

"Yeah, well." Jake reached up to rub the back of his neck. He turned to the younger officer. "Are we done here?" He turned to flash me a quick grin. "I've got to get my girl back home."

I swallowed. His girl? I knew he was joking, but my stomach did that fluttering thing again just the same.

"Yeah, we're done," the officer told Jake. "Unless you want to press charges?"

"Hey!" the stranger said. "Aren't you listening? I'm the one who wants to press charges."

Jake gave a low chuckle. "Is that so?" He flicked his head toward Trey. "Show him," Jake said.

Grinning, Trey held up his video recorder.

The stranger's gaze narrowed. "What the hell is that?"

Now Jake was grinning too. "Guess," he said.

The guy looked heavenward and closed his eyes. "Fuck," he said. "Not again."

"Not what again?" I asked.

"I'll show you later," Jake said.

From somewhere in the crowd, a female voice called out, "Jake! Jake! Over here!"

Jake turned to look. So did I. The voice belonged to a buxom blonde in a tight white T-shirt. She was bouncing up and down and waving at him with both arms. "I love you!" she called.

As we all watched, she started tugging at the bottom of her T-shirt. She'd lifted it just above her navel when the guy next to her yanked the fabric down and gave her a murderous glare. Gripping her forearm, he started hustling her off toward a nearby building – some three-story apartment complex called The Meadows.

I sidled closer to Jake. "Who was that girl?"

Jake shrugged. "Got me."

I shook my head, trying to make sense of it all. "Well, she obviously knows you," I said. "In fact, almost everyone does. Why is that?"

His gaze held amusement and maybe a hint of something else. Flirtation? "Not everyone," he said.

I felt my tongue brush my suddenly dry lips. "That's no kind of answer," I said. "Seriously, who was that girl?"

He flicked his gaze to the apartment complex. "You wanna ask her?" he said. "Be my guest."

I glanced toward the building. "You think I won't?" Obviously, Jake didn't know who he was dealing with. I turned to march away.

Jake gripped my arm. "Don't," he said.

I turned to face him. "Why not?"

"Because," he said, "you're staying with me."

"So much for being your guest," I muttered.

"Listen," he said. "You are my guest. And you're gonna stay my guest. At least 'til this blows over." He glanced toward the building. "This other stuff, it's all bullshit."

I crossed my arms and stared up at him. "You said it. Not me."

"I'll fill you in when we get home. Alright?"

"Home?"

"My home," he said. "And yours too, until we get a few things worked out."