Calamity Jena (Invertary 4)

“I’m not here for breakfast, guys. I’m dealing with another Jena Morgan mess.”

The men grinned.

“Who did she date this time? Is the poor guy still alive?” Josh said. “Dougal, get the board. Jena’s at it again.”

There was a murmur of delight amongst the breakfast crowd as a grinning Dougal flipped the smaller of the two chalk menu boards over. The pub owner rubbed out the name of the last guy Jena dated and poised ready with his chalk for the next.

“Who’s the latest victim?” he said.

“I don’t care who it is,” one of the old guys at the bar said. “I’ll take ten to one on a concussion. We haven’t had one of those for a while. We’re about due.”

“Concussion it is.” Dougal marked the board.

Matt took off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair and frowned. “You do realise you’re running an illegal betting pool right in front of a cop?”

Dougal grinned, making him look even more like Father Christmas than usual. “You’ll be wanting to place your usual bet on a broken leg, then?”

“Not this time.” Matt le

t out a sigh. “This latest mess isn’t about her love life. I’m looking for some American guys. They’re in town asking after Jena. She ran away from them and claimed sanctuary in the church.”

There was a disbelieving pause before the room was filled with laughter. Dougal flipped the board back over after promising the old guy he could still bet on the next of Jena’s victims getting concussion.

“You look stressed. Tell Uncle Joshy all about it.” Josh patted the empty bench beside him. “You might as well eat now you’re here.”

Matt shrugged. Jena wasn’t going anywhere. In fact, she didn’t want to go anywhere. Suddenly, he didn’t feel such an urgent need to sort out her latest mess. He plopped into the seat beside Josh.

“For the record,” he told the American singer, “that whole Uncle Joshy thing is seriously creepy.”

“Told you.” Mitch pointed at his friend.

Lake Benson, the retired English soldier, poured a mug of coffee and handed it to Matt. That was what Matt appreciated most about Lake—he was a man of action, not chit-chat.

“So, what’s the story?” Josh was bouncing around on the seat beside him, reminding Matt of an overgrown puppy. A really annoying puppy. “Is Jena on the run from the law? She killed someone she was dating in the States, didn’t she? But then, that would only be manslaughter. Do they extradite for manslaughter?”

The men gaped at the hyper singer for a minute before Mitch confiscated Josh’s coffee mug. “That’s it. We’re cutting off your caffeine.”

“Hey, not fair. I'm sleep deprived.”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “Last I heard it was Caroline getting up through the night to deal with the baby, not you.”

“Yeah, but she disturbs my sleep when she gets up.”

Lake laughed. “I'm telling her you said that.”

Josh grimaced. “Don't even think about it. What happens in the breakfast club stays in the breakfast club.”

They all groaned.

“We keep telling you,” Mitch said, “this isn't a club. It's food.”

“It could be a club. I got us matching T-shirts. If we all wear the shirts it will feel more like a club.”

“You can wear your T-shirt if you want. We can't stop you. But we aren't a club.”

“We could be.” Josh stroked his hand down the front of his vintage Breakfast Club T-shirt. “This is a great shirt. It was a great movie. Iconic.”

The men ignored him.