Down by Contact (The Barons 2)

“Bet,” I said. “What’s the deal for that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what are we doing with them for the first day?”

Yaritza’s brows pushed together and she tilted her head. Bad sign.

“You don’t have a plan? I thought you guys would have gone over it together.”

“Us?” I barked out a laugh. “We don’t talk to each other unless we have to. Come on, now, Miss Lady. You know why we’re here. We can’t stand each other.”

Simeon nodded but mostly just looked troubled, gnawing on his lower lip. “What are we going to do for four hours?”

“I have no idea, guys. This is your thing. The program is new.” A glimmer of frustration crossed Yaritza’s face, like she wanted to shake us both. “Listen, this is what I’d do, grab lunch and come back. We can spend the next hour trying to draw up a fast-and-dirty lesson plan. Sound good?”

“Yeah, I appreciate—”

“Yeah, he loves it fast and dirty,” I said.

Yaritza’s mouth twisted to the side. Simeon punched my arm.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up, Bravo? I mean, damn.”

“Sorry. I forgot you’re sensitive.”

He looked ready to murder me but still pasted on that big white smile for our supervisor. Damn suck-up. “We’ll get it together, ma’am. I swear. If my boys were here, we’d have this on lock.”

It was hard to contain an epic eye roll. His boys. Mr. Perfect Marcus Hendricks and Redeemed Asshole Gavin Brawley. Well. Slightly redeemed. Brawley had recently flipped off a paparazzo and shoved the pap’s camera after the dude had basically camped in the lobby of his new penthouse in the West Village. They were fiending to get a shot of Brawley and his man.

“Whatever,” I said. “I’m gonna go to Pacini’s, and I’ll be back.” Simeon said nothing. I gave in and epically rolled my eyes. “Bring your country ass on.”

“You clearly never been to New Orleans, boo.”

“Hell yeah I have. Partied on Bourbon Street all night.”

“You are pathetic.”

Yaritza gave us a pained smile and left us to our own devices. Not the best idea, since we probably needed a sitter. Huffing out a long sigh, I slapped my sunglasses back on and led Simeon to my favorite pizzeria. It was a hole-in-the-wall and an original staple of the neighborhood that had managed to hold out as everything around it was eaten up and bought out by rich developers trying to make it fancy. That was the main reason I’d first started going in. I liked the old-timey booths, greasy glass counter with the uncovered pizza pies, lack of signs about gluten and farm-fed animals, and the yellowed pictures of celebrities. They also made bomb-ass chicken rolls.

Simeon scanned the menu once, twice, and then flashed his stupid charming smile at the grumpy Italian dude behind the counter. “Can I have a grilled shrimp Caesar salad and the sausage with broccoli rabe?”

Pssh. What an amateur. Like, what? That was barely food.

Elbowing by him, I thunked my forearms onto the counter.

“You know the drill, Pete. Chef salad, chicken roll, rice ball Parm, two slices of pizza, and lasagna.”

Simeon gave me a look of disgust. “You’re suspended. You working out enough to counter that much grease and cheese?”

Me and Pete looked at each other. “Aiight, cut the pizza.”

“Your choice,” Pete said, like I’d die due to this decision. It was cold out here in these pizzerias.

Simeon sat in one of the booths, and I joined him on the opposite side. I wondered if a pap would stroll up out of nowhere and snap a picture of us being all cordial.

“Look, Bravo. Don’t fuck this up.”

So much for cordial.

“You need to stop making perverted jokes and being a jackass around the people at the Center,” he continued. “How’s it going to look when reporters talk to Sheila and Yaritza and they say you acted like a prima donna asshole with a lousy sense of humor the whole goddamn time?”

“I don’t actually care, bro.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Why? I’m not you or Hendricks or even Brawley these days. I’m not trying to impress anyone but my fans and my sponsors, and so far they like me just fine.”

“They won’t like you when Yaritza says you made sex jokes because you have no idea how to act around children.”

My eyebrows flew up so far they probably looked like they were trying to escape into my hairline. “You don’t fucking know me, Boudreaux. You have no idea—”

“Oh, gimme a break, now. You grew up with rich parents in a mansion and followed your dad around to games. You’re a spoiled shit, and no one ever gave you the business the way you really need it. But guess what? I’m gonna give it to you.”

“Oh, baby,” I drawled. “You’re starting to turn me on.”

For a second, Simeon was startled, but then he shook his head. “The League wants us to look like decent people, so try to pretend you know how to be one, and I’ll try not to do any dumb shit to get us in trouble.”