Page 8 of The Job

“I look like I belong in some sort of slasher movie,” I mutter. “How the fuck am I supposed to hope that my mother doesn’tground me for the rest of the summer the second that she sees me?”

“We could have said that it happened at the track, your face at least, not the blood-soaked shirt, but Rob and Jenny saw you, so that won’t work,” Jensen suggests and then frowns again, “so that was a complete waste of time bringing up.”

“You somehow managed to have a complete conversation with yourself then, without our input at all,” I point out with a quiet chuckle.

“It’s a gift,” Jensen replies, although it doesn’t really make much sense at all, but none of us decide it's worth arguing with him on the subject.

“We have got spare clothes for everyone in the truck, will changing your shirt help?” Rafe signs.

“Well, it will stop him looking so terrifying, but it does nothing for the horror that is his face,” Luc says, and then looks at me with a teasing smirk, “no offense.”

“The fuck, dude? Offense, very much offense,” I reply before laughing.

Trick checks the time on his phone, “You have missed dinner by a long time now. Your mom and dad are going away tomorrow, aren’t they?”

My eyes widen with realization, “Fuck, yeah, you’re right. If I can get in and avoid seeing them, then I might get away with it. I hate letting them down though.”

“I know, man, but it couldn’t be helped this time. It’s not like you planned to get jumped.” Riot agrees sympathetically.

We all have a problem with disappointing our parents, except for Riot, whose aunt is pretty much always working and has no real idea where he is or what he’s up to, and Luc because his parents are dicks. However, the other parents look after Riot and Luc like their own sons, and they are very fond of them, so whenRiot and Luc feel like they have let the parents down, it tends to be the others that they’re talking about.

“It’s not like we could explain it properly anyway, even if we wanted to. They would be absolutely horrified if they knew about half of the shit that we have been through and what we’re capable of,” Trick adds.

We are all silent for a moment, before Cash says, “Alright, that’s the plan then. We had better check around here and make sure there is no sign of the fight, we don’t want anyone asking questions or anything.”

Everyone spreads out, and I slowly start to stand, oh, I am going to be fucking sore tomorrow.

“Here,” Riot says, gaining my attention as he throws a clean shirt at me.

“Thanks,” I reply. I start to lift my shirt when I realize that it hurts too damn much, and I look at him sheepishly, “Um, could you help me, please?”

Riot chuckles, “I was going to anyway. I was just seeing how stubborn you were going to be about it.”

“Ass,” I retort, flipping him off and making him chuckle.

I manage to get my arms out of my shirt fine; it’s just when I try to lift it over my head that it doesn’t work like I want it to, and it sends pain through my torso. I would be worried that I had broken something, but I have had broken ribs before, and I’m not in as much pain as I was then.

Riot very carefully helps to take the shirt off my head without jarring me too much. I will forever be grateful that I have got friends like him.

“Fucking hell, man,” he mutters as my stomach and ribs are revealed, “they got you really fucking good. You’re already bruising. I will be really surprised if you aren’t completely black tomorrow.”

I glance down a wince, “Yeah, that’s going to hurt like fuck tomorrow.”

“You can rest for a couple of days,” Trick says, it sounds like a suggestion, but we all know it’s an order. “We’ll get the lockbox put up tomorrow, and that sorted and then we will come and hang out at your place for a while.”

“Sounds good to me,” I reply and then add, “bring food?”

“Always,” Jensen scoffs like it was absolutely ridiculous for me to request that they bring food because of course they were going to.

“I found the lock box,” Rafe signs, holding up the bag that I dropped when the fight started.

“What’s the time?” I ask, as Riot looks at the clean shirt and then looks at me.

“Hang on,” he says as he heads to the truck.

“Nearly midnight,” Luc replies.

My eyebrows start to rise before I remember my eyebrow is split and lower them again, “Fuck, I really have missed dinner. I thought I was going to have to hang out here for longer so I could sneak in.”

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