Page 16 of You Were Warned: Part One

“She’s finally learning,” Vero says, clearly amused. “This is like a nature documentary. The smaller and more aesthetically compelling predator has been studying the movement patterns of the larger predators.”

“Does your mouth ever stop?”

“Not unless I have a dick in it.”

Brawley growls, and Vero cackles. We keep going and Vero keeps narrating, while I picture all the ways I could perform a double homicide.

We continue for another twenty minutes, and then he calls time. Thank god, as another minute of Vero’s voice and I might have stabbed myself in the ears just to drown him out.

Vero jumps down and grabs Brawley his water, and I get mine.

“Same time tomorrow?” Brawley asks.

“Can we do early morning? I have a shift tomorrow.”

Brawley nods as I pick up my bag and go, heading toward the bar. I need food after that workout, and Rue is the best cook I know. Plus, it beats making the limited things I can cook, which are sandwiches.

“Love of my life.”

Great, two morons in one day. How did I get so lucky?

“Go away.”

He walks in step with me, carrying a crate of tomatoes. “I have news.”

“I don’t care.”

“You might.”

I don’t answer him because I really do not care about his news.

“We have new hires, and Nixie needs my house since it’s bigger, so I’m moving into the house next to it.”

“What a tragedy, I’m devastated, the grief may take me years to recover.”

He smiles widely. “I knew you would be sad.”

“I will need time to mourn the extra distance.”

I continue walking, and he bounces beside me. “I promise to come to visit you often.”

“Please don’t.”

He remains beside me all the way to the bar, where Rue is behind the counter when we walk inside. He looks up when the door opens and notices the crate the Jester is holding, nodding toward the kitchen hatch.

“Leave them there,” Rue says.

The Jester sets the crate down and takes a stool, while I go to the coffeepot and pour a cup for myself. Rue comes back out of the kitchen with a plate and puts it in front of me at the countertop without being asked.

“Your hypothetical?” Rue asks the Jester. “You done something about it yet?”

“Tomorrow,” he says, and Rue nods.

“What hypothetical?” I ask.

“Work thing,” the jingling dickhead says.

“What work thing?” I ask suspiciously.