Chapter 7 #2
“For about five seconds before you dragged him off to the kitchen. He could be a serial killer for all I know. That’s how they get you. They act all heroic and good-natured, and then--” Joe smacked his fist into the palm of his hand. “Boom. You’re dead in a ditch.”
“Dad.” Demarien rolled his eyes. “Seriously.”
Joe turned his attention to Boone again. “How’d you get that black eye, Boone? Is that your real name?”
“Dad, don’t you remember? I told you I was taking a class with Boone today.” Demarien bit his lip. “I may have gone a bit… overboard.”
“A class? So, you, uh,” Joe tilted his head with a slack expression. “Teach yoga or something? Must have been a pretty strenuous class if someone ended up with a black eye. Maybe Demarien is the serial killer here. I’ll watch out for you, Boone.”
“Thanks.” Boone smiled, looking to Demarien. How would his Dad react if he found out his son was taking self-defense courses while pregnant?
Demarien nodded, seemingly understanding Boone’s worries. He crossed his arms and sank into the booth. “Combative yoga, Dad.”
“It was MAC’s, wasn’t it? I remember those well.” Joe nodded, his eyebrows furrowing. “Why were you taking a class? You already--”
“Nothing wrong with going over the basics again.” Demarien quickly straightened up.
Boone nodded. “Absolutely. Though I don’t think he needs much help if my battle wounds have anything to say.”
“Still kicking ass even though it’s been a while since your last lesson, eh, my little black-belt?” Joe smiled and took a long, casual drink, eyeing Demarien over the glass.
Boone reeled. “Black-belt? Shit, no wonder I saw stars when you hit me.”
“Daaaad.” Demarien sulked.
“Oops, sorry.” Joe let out a chuckle under his breath. “Haven’t seen you sulk like that since I found out about your high-school crush.”
Demarien flushed red. “Dad. No.”
“The way you described that boy. Let’s see.” Joe leaned back and stared at the ceiling with a smile on his face.
“Dad, please.”
“I think it was blond hair, blue eyes, smartest boy in the graduating class of, what was it? Class of what year? A couple ahead of you?”
“Dad, if you do this, Doc Hanson will hear about that bacon with a side of pure grease you had this morning.”
“I’ll take my chances.” Joe’s eyes lit up. “Now, where was I? Oh yeah, he had a heart of gold, a sinfully illegal smile. A boy whose name rhymed with dune?”
Demarien groaned and crossed his arms on the table, burying his face in them. “Dad, why do you do this to me?”
“You’re my favorite son. Who else am I going to torment?”
“I’m your only son.” Demarien protested.
As Boone watched the two bicker, he felt his chest swell with emotion.
Demarien liked him? All through high school?
Shit, how would things have turned out if he had acted sooner instead of going straight into the military?
Boone shifted his legs nervously, biting back a grimace as his left leg burned at the sudden movement.
“Anyway, what does the council have to say about this?”
Joe’s voice dragged Boone from his thoughts, and he saw Joe sticking his fingers through the carrier, stroking one of the guinea pigs.
Three squeaks came from the other side. “Okay.” Joe took a deep breath and took out the black-and-white guinea pig to cuddle.
“The council and I have come to a decision. We’ll give you our blessing. On three conditions.”
“Which are?” Demarien’s eyes glimmered with hope.
Joe held up one finger. “One. No stupid fights. Ya’ll are grown, intelligent adults. Communicate, got it?”
Demarien nodded, taking Boone’s hand in his under the table. “Gotcha.”
“Two.” Joe turned to Boone. “If you ever hurt my boy, you’ll never know peace again.
Every second of every day, I will find some way to torment you.
And I own a grocery store and have a small army of forty-five chickens.
You may find that those little torments I mentioned include a copious amount of feathers and some of that spreadable marshmallow fluff. ”
Boone swallowed hard and squeezed Demarien’s hand. “I understand.”
“And three.” Joe narrowed his eyes as if his gaze could pierce right through Boone if he really tried. “Expect a matching exercise outfit for Christmas.”
“Oka-- Wait, what?” Boone blinked rapidly, trying to process what he just heard as Demarien let out a hearty laugh.
“You like the shirt, don’t you, Dad?”
“Of course.” Joe grinned. He put the guinea pig back in her cage and glanced at his watch. “Alright, I gotta hop back to it, make sure Rochelle hasn’t burned the place down.”
“Or eaten all the Halloween candy.” Demarien crossed his arms and mumbled under his breath.
“You're still holding a grudge. You were in the fifth grade, son. Don’t you think it’s time to let it go?” Joe smirked.
“Hell no,” Demarien grumbled. “She ate all the Reese's, you know. That should be a federal offense.”
“I’ll be sure to call a family meeting once everything is settled with the estate.” Joe fished out some bills and left them on the table. “Get whatever you want. My treat. Just get Wilma to charge the store.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Demarien crossed his arms. “But I’m still going to get you back for telling Boone about my crush.”
“Grudges don’t become you, son.” The bell above the door jingled as Joe left with a laugh. Without him, the diner seemed almost too quiet, despite the constant clatter and clamor.
“So, you successfully survived the Watts’ family interrogation.” Demarien cuddled into Boone’s side. “Congratulations.”
“I somehow imagined your Dad would’ve been a little less scary.” Boone let out a little huff of relief. “He seemed so warm when I met him at your cottage.”
“He has his tough side.” Demarien chuckled. “It always surprises me when I see it. I’m hungry.”
Boone felt his stomach grumble. “Speaking of, what do you say we call Wilma-Jean over? I can hear that tuna and white bean bruschetta calling out to me.”