“Don’t kill me.” Vasquez smiled. “That Marine of yours has you jumpy.”
Tech didn’t bother to respond or appear receptive to conversation. Free had ended up telling him how shitty Vasquez treated him at the bachelor party and why Hart intervened, so Vasquez was officially on Tech’s shit list. “Did you want something?”
Vasquez looked taken back, his eyes squinting like he was pissed off. “Damn. I just wanted to say hi to a friend. We used to be close, now you act like you can’t stand me. What’s up? Since you got your little boyfriend and your new job title, you act like you’re too good to speak to anyone.”
Tech wanted to roll his window up in his face. Was he for real? Vasquez’s posture was defensive. His thick arms crossed over his chest, the dark blue uniform stretched to the limit over his straining biceps. “First of all. There’s nothing little about my boyfriend. And two, me being a field officer has no bearing on anything. I’m still me. I haven’t had much to say to you Vasquez, because of how you treated my best friend.”
An angry frown penetrated Vasquez’s tan forehead. “Did Hart tell you a lie?”
“This has nothing to do with Hart,” Tech said. He was done with this conversation because it wasn’t going to go anywhere good. “I’ll see you around, Vasquez.”
“Here comes Free. I’ll clear this up right now.” Vasquez backed away from Tech’s window but paused when he noticed Free wasn’t alone. He was followed by Syn and Hart.
Free’s steps faltered when he noticed Vasquez walking around the truck. Syn leveled a hard look at Vasquez before putting his hand on Free’s shoulder, moving him forward again. When they got to Tech’s truck, Vasquez tried to speak, but Syn gave him a look that implied, “You better not say a fuckin’ word.” Hart’s posture was very similar. Tech wondered if Free told Syn what had happened. Maybe Syn just picked up on Free’s unease. One way or another, it looked like Syn knew because he opened the door for Free and ushered him inside, closing the door when he was fully seated. Syn hit the hood a couple times, signaling Tech to drive off.
Looking in his rearview mirror, Tech saw that Syn didn’t bother acknowledging Vasquez, who was still standing there looking disrespected. Syn shook Hart’s hand and both men gave Vasquez their backs as they turned and walked off in different directions.
Steele
Steele reclined in his chair and clenched his hands in his lap. He was full, but he was far from relaxed. His full rack of ribs was delicious, but it was the bottle of Stella that was keeping him from jumping up and shouting for the staff to turn the goddamn music down. He could barely hear his own thoughts. Tech was still working on his burger while flipping through the dessert menu. Steele watched the people come and go in the brightly lit, too loud, overly decorated Hard Rock Café in Downtown. Tech chose the place, contending he’d been wanting a good burger for days and this place had the best. Whatever Tech wanted, he’d do. But if he never came back to this restaurant, he was good with that.
Tech turned to him, wiping his mouth. He had to practically yell his question to be heard over the incessant chatter around them. “You good? You want dessert?”
“No.” Steele mouthed.
Tech frowned, pushing his plate away, leaving only a couple bites of his huge burger. Steele didn’t know where he put all the food he ate. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to fight someone.”
“Nothing. It’s just extremely loud and bright in here.” Steele leaned over so Tech could hear him over the classic Aerosmith song blaring from the sound system. Multi-color, crazy strobe lights, people toe tapping, singing, and customers bumping into his chair every five minutes while he ate wasn’t the way he liked to dine. It was too much going on and he felt out of control. Being disoriented wasn’t good for him. He looked around again, his eyes darting to the front door every few minutes. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Tech’s hand go up, signaling the server for the check. Steele rubbed his palm on his jeans when he was jolted again, a server bumping his chair when he tried to ease through at the same time a customer did. Steele gritted his teeth, closing his eyes against the harsh light and taking a slow breath. Next thing he knew, Tech’s hand was in his and he was being pulled from his seat and out the front door. Tech didn’t stop until they were around the corner and away from the pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk.
Tech stopped them against the side of the restaurant and turned to look at him. “Babe, are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me you were uncomfortable in there?”