Chapter 7
“Ican’t believe the rescue was closed for lunch.
” Demarien lamented, carefully cradling the guinea pig carrier in his arms. “I wanted to visit Mr. Tibby before we eat.” Mr. Tibby was an ancient African Gray Parrot that’d been part of Fe Fido Fo Fum since they were kids.
He was the rescue’s unofficial mascot, one could say.
“Oh, wait. Good idea here. What if Wilma-Jean hosted a lunch with Mr. Tibby and friends every once in a while?”
Boone smiled. “That would be fun. Plus, I hear the badger they rescued is great at brunch parties.”
Demarien let out a loud, theatrical gasp as he clutched the carrier harder. “Don’t let Puck hear you say the ‘b’ word.”
“What, badger? What’s he got against trash panda’s neurotic cousin?”
“No, badgers are precious animals, and I would die for them and all their hissy, twitchy glory,” Demarien said, snorting a laugh. “Brunch is what Puck actually despises.”
“Heathen,” Boone gasped, grinning.
“I know, right? Would you believe he has an unholy hatred for the act of brunch? If you even say that word in his presence, he’ll probably break out into hives.”
“Duly noted.” Boone reached out for the door. “Remind me never to--”
“Well, I’ll be!” A woman’s shrill voice called out from inside the diner before the door burst open a moment later. “Is that who I think it is?”
Boone jumped back just in time to avoid taking a door to the face, smiling as Wilma herself threw her arms around him and Demarien.
“Hey, Miss Wilma. Long time no see.” Demarien buried his face in her shoulder and laughed. “Been a while, right?”
“Demarien Watts, if I weren’t so happy to see you, I’d be smackin’ ya.” Wilma pulled back and wiped a tear from her eye. “It’s been too long since you and the boys left for Portland. You’re all grown up now.”
Wilma eyed Demarien up and down. “And I love the outfit. Gets me in the mood to work out again.” She tapped her chin, deep in thought, before she smiled. “Nah, folks would miss my curves.”
“Your curves are amazing,” Demarien said, chuckling.
“Oh, sweetie.” Wilma fluttered her eyes. “Tell me more.”
“Your food…” Demarien leaned close to her, whispering into her ear. “It's better than your sister’s.”
Wilma’s laugh was deep and warm. “Liar. I know you eat there too, and you probably tell her the same thing. You boys, are too much.”
“We aren’t boys anymore. I’m thirty years old now, Miss Wilma.” Demarien gave a sheepish smile. “All of us are. Puck just crossed the hurdle back in June. Boone is, uh, thirty-two, I guess?”
“I am,” he confirmed, content to let Demarien do the talking. Wilma was one of the few who didn’t make a deal about his face now, but when he first saw her after getting back, she’d hugged him and cried. It had been both comforting and awkward.
“Lord, don’t tell me your ages. That would make me ancient.
” Wilma pouted, her large, colorful earrings jingling with every slight bit of movement.
“Should’ve expected it, though. From what I’ve seen today, even Demarien’s seemingly never-aging daddy’s showing a bit of gray, so I guess it’s past my time now. ”
Demarien froze in his tracks.
“Wait, you mean to say that Dad’s here? Like, right this very instant?”
“Yep, yep. Where else would he be? Sammie’s?
” Wilma scoffed, a grin playing at the corners of her red-painted lips.
“I set him up with some amazing seared curry tuna and mango-tahini rice. Your daddy’s a smart man, you know?
He appreciates that my food’ll energize him for days to come.
Now come on, I’m sure he’d love for you two to join him. I’ll whip you up something nice.”
“Oh, that’s okay, Miss Wilma, he’s probably heading out soon anyway--”
Wilma ducked back into the diner and yelled over her shoulder, “Oy, Joe! Your boy’s here.” She turned and eyed Boone with a wide grin. “And he brought a friend, so make some room.”
Boone didn’t even have a chance to breathe before Wilma dragged him and Demarien into the diner, smiling and gabbing away without a care in the world.
“Sorry in advance,” Demarien whispered, his shoulders slumping.
“For what?” Boone smiled nervously. “Not like your Dad’s gonna interrogate me, right?”
Demarien cleared his throat, and his eyes darted around the diner before he slid behind Boone to hide.
Boone looked over his shoulder and inhaled sharply. “Oh, shit… He is, isn’t he? And me with my black eye.”
“Hey, I said I was sorry!” Demarien hissed under his breath as he peered around Boone’s body at the dining area.
“Stop hiding back there and show yourselves.” Wilma dragged both men out from the doorway and pulled them further into the diner. “You don’t know how happy I am that ya’ll stopped here. I’d have been worried to death if I’d heard you stopped by Sammie’s place again.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Sammie’s place, Miss Wilma.” Demarien put his free hand on his hip and glared at her teasingly.
Wilma scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “That girl’s liable to make ya sick with all that fried food!”
“Half your menu is fried food.” Boone pointed out.
“Now, don’t you say that, Blondie-Boo. You know I try my best to focus on healthy meals here, but even I have to relent when it comes to the classics.
” Wilma crossed her arms and tossed her head back with a scoff.
“As opposed to Sammie’s entire menu, minus two dishes.
Wouldn’t be able to bring no piggies to her place, either.
” She stooped down to peer into the carrier.
“Ain’t that right, little fuzzies? Sammie wouldn’t have a pretty plate full of veggies for you guys as I do. ”
Demarien cocked his head. “Miss Wilma, are you trying to bribe us to like you better than Sammie?”
“Now, I wouldn’t have to bribe you for that.” She gave them a pointed look. “Right, boys?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Boone and Demarien said at the same time.
Wilma spun around on her heels and headed back into her kitchen. “Be right back. Have a seat.”
Boone barely had time to call out a thank you before some regulars were waving to him and Demarien. Mostly Demarien. They were undoubtedly happy to see the cheerful omega doing well after word spread about Bernard’s murder.
Their eyes were friendly, sparkling with recognition and delight. Those were stares Boone could handle. It was the one piercing straight through him that he wasn’t too keen on. Across the diner, an absolute behemoth of a man was staring him down.
Joe Watts.
Boone jumped as Demarien gripped his hand and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze before heading toward the booth to join his dad.
“Hey, Dad.” Demarien chuckled nervously. “Thought you would’ve already been back at the store by now.”
Joe shook his head. “Had to take my lunch late today. A meeting with a couple of the vendors ran over.” He eyed Boone for a moment. “I don’t have long before I have to head back, but I’m sure there’s enough time to explain this.” He motioned to Boone and the carrier in Demarien’s arm.
“Dad, you ever get that feeling that something’s missing in your life? That maybe there’s someone out there who will mend your soul? Be the other half of your broken heart?” Demarien smiled sweetly.
Boone’s jaw dropped, and Joe went from mildly curious to completely horrified. “You’ve only been in town for one day, son. You can’t marry Boone after one day.”
“Oh, I’m not talking about Boone, Dad.” Demarien held up the carrier. “I’ve recently met my soulmates in guinea pig form. See?”
Joe peered at the carrier with a wary eye before sighing. “Why am I suddenly disappointed?”
I feel you, Boone thought, fighting a pout.
Demarien smirked and leaned over to whisper to Boone. “Classic diversion tactic. Mention the beans or something else equally adorable, and even interrogation-mode Dad calms down. Butter him up, so to speak.”
Boone flashed a wide grin. “You mean to tell me you butter-beaned him?”
Demarien let out a soft gasp of delight just before Joe took the carrier from him, dragging a chair from a nearby empty table. Without a word, Joe placed the carrier upon its rightful throne as Demarien and Boone got settled on the other side of the booth.
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Demarien handed Boone a menu and flipped through his own.
Despite not really knowing Joe, Boone could tell he wasn’t a man who stayed quiet long.
Lord help you if he were silent, for the world was about to shift drastically.
Boone wasn’t sure whether to try to break the silence or risk it.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to make that choice.
“Welcome to Hell,” Joe said in an ominous voice.
“Dad!” Demarien smacked his arm across the table. “Listen, if you’re gonna insult Wilma’s place like that, we’re gonna have some words, you and me.”
“What? You know I love this place as much as you do. I’ve just always wanted to say that, and the awkward silence gave me a reason.” Joe playfully slapped back at Demarien. “And look. I have a hellish council to back me up now.” He motioned to the carrier. “They’re devilishly cute.”
Joe looked up and waved as a few old friends entered the diner, calling out a hearty greeting before turning back to his son. “I wondered why you wanted my old running shoes this morning.” He took a bite of his meal and eyed Demarien’s feet. “Don’t you have shoes of your own, son?”
“Yeah, but I figured after yesterday, having something of yours around, even for a bit, would help me relax.” Demarien’s menu drooped to the table. “The two of you are the most comforting people to have around right now.”
A shiver ran down Boone’s spine as Joe glared at him. “This stranger? Comforting?”
“Come on, Dad. You know Boone.”
“Do I, though?”
Demarien scowled adorably. “What are you talking about? You saw him when we were in high school. Hell, you talked to him yesterday.”