“You don’t owe me anything, Q. But I’ll take a hug.” I open my arms, and he steps forward and embraces me like a real friend.
“Whoa. Whoa. What’s going on here?” Gabriel’s voice comes from the doorway behind Joanie. “Q, you better not be trying to snake my girl.”
Q releases me, and I step back toward the sink, feeling like I’ve just racked up a major victory. My gaze locks onto Gabriel’s blue eyes.
“I told Q he was an asshole, and he apologized. We’re all good now.”
The corner of Gabe’s mouth tugs upward, but before he lets it fully spread across his face, he turns to Q and asks, “You sure?”
Q turns to face him. “You did good with this one, brother. I approve.”
Gabriel shakes his head. “Didn’t ask for it, but I’m glad you’re starting to see what I do.” They hug, slapping each other’s backs. “But you better get out there and see if your dad needs CPR after the Jets fumbled that ball. I’ll help Scarlett with the dishes.”
“Oh no, you three go and watch the game. I’ll finish up in here. Scarlett, you’ve done more than enough.” Joanie waves at the drying rack full of clean dishes. “Please. I insist.”
“It was nothing. Thank you for an amazing meal.”
Gabriel holds out his hand and I walk toward him, but as I do, his phone rings.
He pulls it out of his pocket, looks down at the display, and up at me and Q. “It’s Johnson. What the fuck would he want now?”
“Maybe he’s going to apologize for leaving you high and dry while he coached Bodhi?”
Thirty-Four
Legend
I consider not answeringthe call, but curiosity gets the best of me.
“You got Legend,” I say in greeting.
“That’s some real low shit, Gabe. I didn’t think you’d take a shot that dirty,” Johnson says in reply. Even though I don’t have him on speaker, he speaks so loudly that everyone in the kitchen can hear him, and Q’s head jerks back.
“What the fuck are you talking about? What dirty shot?”
“Trying to take out Bodhi’s knee so he can’t fight. I never would’ve thought I’d see the day. I feel like I don’t even fucking know who you are anymore. First, shutting down Urban Legend without so much as a warning. Then pretending like you’re legit—even looking the part too, with that rich chick you’re parading around town, and now this? Yeah, I’m real fucking glad I’m not in your corner.”
My brain is running riot, latching onto each statement with confusion, because I don’t have any idea what Johnson’s talking about.
I start with the first part. “Someone went after Bodhi? Is he okay? Can he still fight?” I ask, not sure whether I’m going to get an answer out of the pissed-off coach, but I figure it’s my only shot to understand what the hell is going on.
“Don’t act like you don’t know.”
Scarlett curls herself into my side, and I wrap my arm around her waist.
“Ron, I don’t fucking know. I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about. I’m at a fucking barbecue in Jersey. Been here all afternoon. If someone came after Bodhi, it sure as shit wasn’t me. I got a whole yard full of witnesses if you want to talk to them.”
“I don’t give a damn if you’ve got a convent full of nuns vouching for your whereabouts. You could’ve paid someone easy.”
“Why the fuck would I want to take out Bodhi? Ineed this fight, Johnson. Think for a goddamned second.”
“I am thinking, and all I can figure is that you’re trying to pussy out of this fight. You’re afraid you’re gonna lose, so you’re trying to save face. If Bodhi can’t fight, your club still gets paid as the venue. You take part of the gate. You don’t need to risk your ass getting handed to you in the cage to cash out.”
I can see where he’s coming from, but he’s totally wrong. “I got nothing to gain by Bodhi getting hurt, and you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I have everything to lose if he can’t fight.”
“Bullshit.”
“Let me talk to him,” Q says, holding out his hand for the phone.