Okay. Not great news. A little mortifying, sure, but he could deal. Why was Joe still grinning? Grunt narrowed his eyes. At least that didn’t hurt.
“What else?”
“We didn’t know who you were,” the doc said. “You didn’t have any ID on you.”
Grunt just stared at him. Who carries ID out running? Answer: no one.
/>
“I called the pub to see if you were staying there, but Dougal wasn’t working. The girl covering the bar was new and didn’t know who’d booked in.” The doc paused and looked at Joe.
“The chicks who hit you posted a picture in the bar to see if anyone knew you.”
Grunt waited. There had to be more to it than a mugshot if Joe was straining to keep a lid on his hysterics.
“Show me,” Grunt said.
Joe pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. The doc shuffled away from him. Not a good sign. Grunt prepared himself for the worst. Had they taken a picture of him with his junk hanging out? Nah. Nobody would do that.
Joe unfolded the paper and held it up for Grunt to see. He sucked in a breath, his eyes shooting between Joe and the doc.
The doc held up his hands. “I had nothing to do with it.”
Joe was laughing too hard to talk. Grunt felt his cheeks heat for the first time in memory. There he was in full colour. Out cold. Drooling. A big-assed tartan bow in the middle of his forehead. Women’s products stuck to his head. His knees up to his chest, folded into the car like an oversized pretzel. And someone had used a black marker pen to censor his junk.
There were words printed under the photo: “Do you know this man? He’s currently unconscious at the doctor’s office. If you know him, go get him.”
Joe was wiping tears from his eyes. He was useless.
Grunt turned to the doc. “Who brought me in?”
An image of a blonde angel flashed into his mind. Had he died when he hit his head?
“It was the Donaldson twins.” The doc spoke in the direction of his feet before looking up at Grunt. The bastard was trying not to laugh. “You should know before you look them up that their elder brother is the town police officer. You should also keep in mind that they were trying to help.”
Great. This day just got better. “Where are my shorts?”
The doctor rushed to get them while Joe plopped into a chair, trying to catch his breath.
“I’m framing this,” Joe said.
Grunt frowned at his friend and wondered whom he’d kill first. So many options, so little time.
It was a hard decision.
9
Friday didn’t start well. For one, Jena found another bouquet of flowers on her doorstep. The card with this one said, “Please forgive me, I can’t live without you, love Frank.” She clenched her teeth, ripped up the card and handed the flowers to Matt.
A few minutes later, Lake turned up to watch her while Matt ran some errands, taking the flowers with him. Lake was better company than Matt. He sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. He didn’t talk, he didn’t criticise and he didn’t take over renovating her house. At the changing of her guard, Lake smiled, nodded and disappeared quietly. It was perfect. She decided that she wanted Lake to watch her all the time. Surely Matt would be thankful?
Matt arrived back at her house after lunch. He brought in bag after bag of groceries, lecturing about the need for healthy food as he did so. Jena ignored him, went into her living room, pushed the sofa back against the wall. Plonked her iPod into the speaker dock. And danced.
For one long, glorious hour, she didn’t think about Matt, Frank or the fact her money was running out. Nope, instead she let the music take over as she swayed and pirouetted and stretched in time to the beat. When she finally wound down, she actually felt relaxed for the first time in days.
And that was when it hit her—she could teach dance lessons to earn some cash.
Before she could think twice about it, she ran into the kitchen.