The glint in Candy’s eyes didn’t bode well for my friend. He should have kept his mouth shut. “Yeah, it has. Still got yours?”
“My what, sir?”
Candy smirked. “Your ghillie suit, Clifford.”
Mars blinked and it really was very cute. I glanced down, biting my lower lip to keep from laughing. He was an idiot.
“I ‘ave it, sir.”
Candy slapped him on the back. “Good. You’ll be up there with Monroe.” Before Mars could object, Candy looked back at me. “Go change into your camo. You too, Clifford. I’ll need you both out there and set up by two.”
“Aw, come on, Captain,” I whined. “Two? I ain’t even ate breakfast.”
“Well, you’d better catch up with the others,” Candy replied, turning to leave. “I think they were planning on IHOP.”
I glanced at Mickey and Nash. “I want pancakes too! Y’all didn’t even invite us.”
“We were getting to it,” Mickey said. “Come on. We’ll bring you and Mars back to change into camo afterward.”
“And your ghillie suits,” Nash said, slapping me on the back again.
“Fuck off.”
He cackled like an idiot as we headed out of the office. We met the others outside in the parking lot and decided on Du-par’s instead of IHOP because the food was ten times better. The breakfast crowd would also soon be clearing out, on their way to church, and other normal Sunday things, not to go and lie on the hard ground in the hot sun like the idiots we were. When we stepped into the restaurant, the hostess looked us over with wide eyes, and I immediately knew we must have been quite a sight. Our party was made up of seven tall, muscular guys, with the exception of Patsy who stood just over five-seven. We were used to the stares we got every time we went out together as a team.
“This way,” the hostess said, steering us to a huge booth at the back of the restaurant. She set down menus and we thanked her, ordering coffee, with tea for Patsy and the two Brits on the team. It was nice sitting down with everyone together. Though we often barbequed at my house or just got together to play cards and have a few beers on the weekends, we rarely ate out.
Now that Nash and Patsy were settled down with their own guys, they liked to go home and eat with their men and in Nash’s case, his large family with two kids still in elementary school and another who’d just graduated high school. It still amazed me that Nash—the man who’d been the biggest player on our team—was settled down with a house, a dog, and his man’s family. I’d been over to their house in West Hollywood and had adored meeting them. The kids were great and the dog—Garbanzo—was a sweetheart. Then again, I had a thing for dogs.
After our server delivered our drinks and we’d ordered, I excused myself to the bathroom. After I got back into the booth, I picked up my coffee and sat back, ready to enjoy my breakfast and laugh with my friends. I thought of Cachi and pulled out my phone, checking my messages. When I realized everyone hadgone quiet, I looked up to find them all staring at me, wearing grins. I grunted. “What’s up, assholes?” I turned to Mars who shrugged and grinned at me. “What’d you say?”
“I told them ya ‘ad a new beau when you fucked off to the toilet,” he said.
I picked up my coffee and muttered into the rim. “Jesus, you guys are worse than gossipy old women.”
They all chuckled. “He was telling us ya managed to blow a good thing in…how long was it?” Patsy looked at Mars.
“’E said it took twelve hours,” Mars supplied.
The small Irishman whistled. “Twelve whole hours, mate? That’s a new record.”
I sighed. “It was almost sixteen hours.”
“Top notch, old bean,” Alain drawled.
I glared at Joy which just made everyone laugh a little harder. I ignored them, hiding my smile against the lip of my cup as I thought of Cachi. “I’ll get him back. Just wait and see.”
Nash slapped me on the back. “That’s good, buddy. I like your optimism.”
“Optimism? Huh. In my experience, I find groveling much more effective.” I glared at Mickey, who was trying to look innocent. “What? Groveling is good,” he said.
“Mars has informed us he’s a dancer,” Alain said, grinning at me as he sipped his tea. He glanced at Mars. “What was it? Hula?”
Mars snorted as I sat back muttering under my breath, “He’s a go-go dancer, assholes.”
“And, Mars said he works at Dance Hall Boys,” Nash said, wearing a big grin.
I glared at Mars. “Mars said a lot while I was takin’ a piss.”