The tightness in my chest eased with my laugh. His good dose of humor I so desperately needed taking a swipe at my loaded memories. “Dude, you really are never going to grow up, are you?”
Sliding his glasses up a fraction, his familiar hazel eyes, now with the beginnings of crow’s feet, met mine. “Why the fuck would I do that?” His mouth split into a lopsided grin as he took a step back. “Come on in, man. It’s been too long.”
I tapped the vest with my knuckles on my way past him. “Am I interrupting?”
“God, I hope so,” he said, scrubbing a hand through the wavy hair falling into his face. “No one should have to face a full day of paperwork. I’d rather someone drive nails through my balls.”
The familiar scent of popcorn and commercial carpet cleaner lingered in the air. Gone was the underlying scent of cigarette smoke that seemed to cling for years after the laws that finally outlawed smoking inside. “What the hell is so miserable it has you considering mutilation?”
“Prepping for tax season. I thought I’d get a jump on it, saving myself a few headaches, but the only thing that will do that is a fucking full-time accountant. That’s what I get for trying to be responsible. I thought this adulting shit was a scam. I was right.”
I grinned and gestured at his chest. “And the laser tag gear? How does that come into play?”
“I think better with gear on. Reminds me what’s at stake if I don’t get this shit done. You see the addition on the back? We’ve got a wild laser tag setup now.” He unclipped the vest and tossed it into the chair he’d likely just vacated, a clear sign he didn’t plan to plant his ass there again anytime soon. The gun and glasses followed just seconds later.
“Hard to miss. It’s purple.”
“The whole building will be purple soon.”
“Didn’t Old Man Stone hate purple?”
Jackson crossed his ankles and propped his shoulder against the wall with a cocky grin. “Yup. Seemed like the upside to me.”
“You’re going to give him a stroke.”
“Nah, as long as I don’t resurrect the purple mohawk, he’ll be fine. I’ll sneak him a cigar when my grandma’s not looking to make it up to him. Anyway, enough about me, what took you so long to get your ass over here? I heard you were back in town almost a week ago.”
“People didn’t waste time talking about it.”
“They never do…especially when it comes to you.” He poured a couple cups of coffee and glanced over his shoulder. “Hell, what did you expect when the first thing you did was sniff around the derby team?”
“No sniffing, just observing,” I said, trying to sound bored with the mutterings around town, despite the spike in my blood pressure from his question.
“You never just observe derby,” he said, letting out a snort. “Any chance you’ll make your stay permanent?”
“I wouldn’t do that to the town.” Or my sister, brother-in-law, and nephew. I stepped up and took the cup he offered. I considered grabbing the cream, but decided against it.
Today was a black-like-my-soul kind of day. Might as well be festive.
“I don’t know, the town could use some shaking up. Besides, the ladies are starting to outnumber us around here. It’s getting scary.”
“Only if you don’t understand them. Maybe you should work on that, man.”
“Careful, I’ll think my mom sent you.”
“How’s business?” I glanced around the room, really looked at it, and noticed the modern touches. The six metal filing cabinets along the wall, all gone now. In their place a workbench with skate hardware, plates, nuts and washers, bearings, toe stops, wheels of all colors, sizes, and styles. He even had an array of toe caps in a dozen or so colors and an endless variety of laces in varying lengths, colors, and material. Hanging on a pegboard next to the bench, multiple skate tools to change out parts.
The days of the classic high-top quad skates were over. At least here.
On another wall ran a series of monitors mounted along the edge of the ceiling, no doubt overlooking the rink and now the laser tag area. It sure as hell beat the glitchy black-and-white box that used to sit back here, flickering endlessly with a grainy view of the locker section.
Jackson’s touches were everywhere, some obvious, some not so obvious, all of them full of pride and dedication.
I underestimated him.
“It’s good. Real good actually. Instead of limping along, breaking even, we’re finally putting some solid money into the business. No loan on the addition. All profits. My father isn’t sure how he feels about it just yet, but more dollar signs will help that along eventually.”
“Pissed off you were right and he was wrong no doubt.” I noticed a calendar on a hook, clearly covering another, and flicked the edge to spy what he was hiding.
His gruff laugh filled the room. “You thought you were going to find a set of titties back there, didn’t you?”
Fucking Mandalorian.
“With you one never knows. Could have just as easily been The Golden Girls.” Because he was a seriously weird dude who got off on watching repeats of the eighties sitcom when he wasn’t causing trouble on skates.
“That’s the desk calendar,” Jackson said, nodding toward the one piece of furniture that didn’t change over the years and the flat calendar spread over the top.
Probably because no one could lift it.
“As for my father, my being right definitely chafed his ass, but I ignored it. When that didn’t piss me off the way he hoped, he jumped up my colon about there being no point if I don’t settle down and have kids to take over the business.”
“Any chance that’s on the radar?”
“Don’t see why not. I like kids. I love women. But I sure as hell won’t be settling for whatever comes along to make my dad happy. Fuck that. Besides, I’m consistent. Consistently
