Page 63 of Force At Third

“Where the fuck is Gwendolyn? Rome?”

“Heading this way,” he states.

“Guessing I’m not losing my mind thinking the redhead?—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he whisper-hisses as his eyes dart around.

Gritting my teeth, I whisper real low, “At least when Fred knew when he was toting around in the fucking Mystery Machine that there was bad shit going on. But no, I got Scooby pissed he can’t get a post-game Scooby Snack, so I gotta run him to Taco Bell to distract him. I got Shaggy next to him, fucking zoned out, but I’m not guessing he’s high, so he’s more than likely trying to figure out when the fuck Mystery Incorporated left the set of their show and ended up in The Twilight Zone. Velma Dinkley, you ask? Velma’s a thinker. Doesn’t normally say shit, but now gives lessons on who and who doesn’t want a little fart hole bang-bang. That’s a cry for help from that one. Daphne’s MIA, and so is”—I pause and roll my fucking eyes so hard it hurts—“CeCe. And you, motherfucker, can’t drive for shit, so spill it or stay off my ass.”

He runs a hand over his face. “Scooby AJ?”

I nod.

“Shaggy, the one walking Elle out here, Nour?”

“It doesn’t take a fucking detective to figure that out, Marks.” I throw a hand in the air and give him the finger as I walk toward the house.

When I step in, all four of them have eyes glued to their phones, which I assume Marks had the investigators pull out of their places.

“Where are you going?” AJ calls as I walk past them and head for the stairs.

“To take a dump,” I lie.

My ass is heading upstairs to claim Gwendolyn’s room.

When I come down, the informed are walking in. Rome is carrying his pup, Gwendolyn is behind him, and Marks is behind them.

“Nour and I cooked.” AJ chuckles, holding up the two giant Taco Bell bags.

“You’re the best, AJ.” Rome nods.

AJ looks at me and says, “Dad’s home, so you don’t have to play the role anymore.”

“I made a fine father, but I’ll gladly step back.” I hold my hands up and do just that.

“Let’s eat.” Marks opens a cupboard and pulls out a stack of paper plates.

Rome grabs the food, and Gwen grabs a stack of napkins, shoving it in my chest. I take them, and we hit the dining room.

As fate has been doing, the only seat she has to sit in is beside me. And, with no fuss at all, she sits then turns, basically giving me her back.

Rome starts pulling out tacos, burritos, the whole works, tossing them to whoever squawks first.

Once we’re all settled, Gwen, with her chicken quesadilla, me with my crunch wrap supreme, everyone else with … I don’t fucking care, just happy she got what I thought she’d want, AJ’s the first person to speak.

“So, CeCe is …?”

“Working late,” Rome answers, a mouthful of taco.

He continues, “And Gwen was wearing a red wig because?”

“She’s into roleplay,” I answer and get an elbow to the rib. “Oh shit, my bad. It was cosplay, right? You were fucking obsessed with that Nancy Drew character.”

“I never knew Nancy Drew was a cosplay character.” Nour picks up his phone, more than likely to prove me wrong. Probably could. I have no fucking clue.

“Fuck, she was the biggest cosplay character in Walton, Texas.” Again, total bullshit.

She stomps on my foot under the table, and I grind my teeth together.

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