27. Jameson #2
Gibs tried to retaliate at Bowie, but the taco I threw distracted him and he hit Jonah instead. Jonah tossed something back, Devlin scooted away from the table, Nash ducked, and seconds later, all hell broke loose.
Gibson stood and threw more food from his plate. He wasn’t even aiming anymore. Someone hit him with a scoop of sour cream. I tossed chunks of marinated steak across the table, then threw a lime wedge at him. He grabbed a bowl of salsa and I dove for cover.
Salsa sprayed across the table and onto the floor behind me.
Bowie crouched next to me and nodded. Together, we tipped the table upright to make a barricade to hide behind.
We grabbed whatever was near—chips, olives, avocado, lime wedges, tomato, tortillas—and tossed them over the edge of the table .
“Shit,” Gibson growled.
“I’m hit!” Nash shouted.
Bowie and I were running out of ammo, and Gibson was closest to the food table. The steady stream of taco fixin’s flying over our heads indicated he’d gotten to it.
“Jonah, reload,” I said.
Jonah had taken cover behind a chair. He nodded and crawled closer to the food. Bowie and I hurled the last of what we could reach at Gibson while Jonah reached up and pulled a few bowls off the table.
“Just toss it,” I said.
Gibson noticed Jonah and his lips curled in a sneer.
He scooped a handful of pico de gallo and tried to throw it, but most of it just splattered all over the floor.
Jonah slid a bowl of sliced onions our direction, then the chopped lettuce.
Bowie and I made good use of them, pelting Gibson with vegetables as fast as we could throw.
There was a lull in the action, and for a minute, I thought maybe Gibson had relented.
Bowie and I waited, our backs against the bottom of the table, handfuls of cheese and lettuce at the ready.
Jonah had moved further from Gibson—couldn’t blame him—and I had no idea where Devlin had gotten to.
Nash seemed to have bailed on the scene at the start.
Bowie nodded, and we inched our way up so we could look over the top edge of the table. I caught the evil in Gibson’s eyes just before mine were hit with a fistful of guacamole.
“Goddammit, Gibson!” I ducked behind the table and wiped the guac off my face. “Quit being such an ass!”
“You’re an ass,” he said, and more guacamole went flying over my head .
Scarlett’s voice came from somewhere to my left. “I’d say you’re all asses at this point.”
I couldn’t see her from my hiding spot, but the heat in her voice made me cringe. I was certain she had her hands on her hips. Probably shaking her head in disbelief.
“Oh my god.” That’d be Cassidy.
I rolled my eyes. No doubt June was with her. Great, an audience.
“Y’all get up,” Scarlett said. “Come on, now.”
Bowie and I glanced at each other, understanding passing between us.
“Nope,” I said. “Not until he does.”
“Fuck that,” Gibson said. “I ain’t getting up first.”
Scarlett let out an exasperated sigh. “Then get up at the same time. Put down the guacamole, Gibs. What’s wrong with you? I swear, y’all are grown men. Quit acting like children.”
“Jameson?” Leah Mae asked.
“Stay back, darlin’,” I said. “Gibson, if you throw anything at her, I will kick your ass.”
“I ain’t throwing shit at the girls,” Gibson said, although it sounded like a reluctant concession.
“Okay, fine,” I said. “I call a truce. We all drop our weapons and stand on three. Agreed?”
My truce offering was met with a chorus of aye s. Including Gibs.
“Count us up, Scar.”
“One,” she said. “Two… three.”
Bowie and I nodded to each other, dropped the food in our hands and stood, looking warily over at Gibson. He held his empty hands up slightly, and we did the same.
“Y’all clean up this mess,” Scarlett said. She went over to the cooler and started pulling out beers—handed them to the girls. They dragged chairs to the side of the room and sat, like they were standing guard over the clean-up. Probably not a bad idea, that.
Gibson grumbled, but got to work. Bowie and I righted the table and we picked all the shit up off the floor. Money, chips, cards, and a ton of food. Took a solid forty-five minutes before the room was in decent shape again.
Sonny Fullson, Build-a-Shine’s owner, came in and appraised the room. His dark hair was shaggy and his black apron had the store’s name in white. “What the hell happened back here? Someone cheatin’ at cards?”
“Nah,” Bowie said, stepping up, as he usually did, to be the diplomat. “Sorry about all this, Sonny. We got a little carried away. We’ll all chip in extra for clean up.”
I half-expected Sonny to throw us all out and ban us from coming back. Instead, he put his hands on his hips and shook his head.
“Tell you what,” Sonny said. “Y’all make sure the Cock Spurs win next time you play the Perrinville Bootleggers. Those filthy buggers had no right using Bootleggers as their mascot. You win, we’re even. If not, we’ll work something out.”
“Sounds fair.” Bowie shook his hand.
Sonny went back out to the front. I’d avoided Gibson during clean-up, and he left first, sparing me the need to say anything to him.
Leah Mae gave me a sympathetic smile when I grabbed my jacket and headed toward the door.
I didn’t know what money was mine, and I didn’t much care.
I just wanted to get out of there and be done with it.
Thankfully, Scarlett didn’t try to interrogate me. Just patted me on the arm before I left. I followed Leah Mae out and we got in my truck. Drove silently back to my place.
Under different circumstances, I’d have been laughing over it all.
A bunch of grown men throwing food at each other.
Certainly wasn’t the first food fight that had broken out between the Bodine brothers.
But I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
The weight of everything was heavy on my shoulders.
The gossip. My dad. Callie Kendall. My sculpture.
Fighting with Gibs just made everything worse.
And Leah Mae. She was my refuge, yet there were still unanswered questions between us.
Was she going to stay in Bootleg Springs?
Was she making plans to go? I knew she wasn’t moving back to L.A.
, but where was she going next? Was this just a stopover while she figured things out?
Was I just a distraction? I wasn’t sure.
All I knew was that I didn’t want to talk about it tonight.
We got back to my place and I cleaned up.
We curled up on the couch together to watch TV.
Later, I took out some of my pent-up aggression on her, in ways she liked quite a lot.
Fell asleep with her in my arms, exhausted and drifting in the scent of her…
…with a hint of guacamole.