Page 71 of Busted Dreams

“Oh really? Why not? You live in a skeevy trailer—that can be taken away very easily—with a cracked out mom who never wanted you. Call me crazy, but I’m not afraid of you. Be there Sat—” And that was when he realized I was recording.

Damn.

“What the fuck are you doing?” His face mottled red, and spittle flew from his mouth. Brady tried to puff up, but he was still so pathetically unintimidating. Then he started to rush my side of the table, but Beck blocked his way.

“Not a good idea,” he growled as he stared down a good four or five inches at the guy.

“That’s not cool. Don’t worry, my dad will hear about that too. You’ll be out on the streets in no time.” For just a moment, Brady peered around Beck’s shoulder with a look so smug, I was glad I’d caught it on camera. It wouldn’t help Beck keep his home if they really owned it, but it would make me feel better to blast this jerkface over the internet. Anyone who saw this one-minute clip would know immediately he was a world-class douche canoe.

“Fine, run to your dad. I don’t give a fuck.” Beck shrugged, but he shifted to the side, blocking his view of me again.

The arrogance in Brady’s voice as he shuffled backward. “Saturday, Beck. Or you’re fired.”

“Wait.” Jonah held up a hand to catch their attention, then stood up and straightened his shirt in his normally geeky but endearing way. I grinned and started recording again since I was capped at one minute. “Did you tell him this Saturday was a family affair, Beck?”

Whatever he was about to say, I didn’t care. He was standing up for Beck, and that made me very happy, bordering ecstatic. It was just what I needed to cover the rage licking at my heels from this guy threatening to take Beck’s home away.

“That’s not of any consequence.” Brady ground his teeth. This guy was a real asshole. How did Beck work with him every day?

“Oh, but I’m afraid it is. We have plans to be at a cookout wi—”

“Cookouts are asinine and can be rescheduled,” Brady interjected.

“Oh really? Do you happen to know who our family is?” Jonah canted his head, as if he couldn’t believe how incredibly stupid this guy was.

I’m right there with you.

“I don’t see why that even matters.” Brady seemed like he was beyond irritated with the three of us. “Wait, how are you two even related?” And now he was confused.

Jonah shook his head and gave Brady a pitying look. “One, we’re brothers. You don’t need to know anything else. Two, our family that Beck so kindly forgot to mention is the president of Devil’s Hands motorcycle club.” The smart man paused there to let it sink in.

“The Devil’s Hands?” he mumbled under his breath, as if he couldn’t quite place why he knew the name. Then his face completely paled.

“I see you’ve heard of them. Anyway, ouruncle,” Jonah made sure to stress that word, “would not be happy if Beck cancelled. Especially after he asked for the time off. And it was approved. You understand, don’t you?”

I really loved it when Jonah donned the persona he reserved for the public and rich dicks. He was so charismatic when he wanted to be, it was odd to reconcile that with the boy who got tattoos when his stress got too high. But right now, he was laying this man out, and Brady probably didn’t even realize it.

“U-Um,” Brady stammered. It was like he knew he had to agree but couldn’t let go of his entitlement. “We’ll talk about it later, Beck. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

Damnit! My minute ran out. Sure that I’d captured enough footage, I lowered my phone. The last video was really more of Jonah than Brady anyway.

Sliding back into his side of the booth, Beck sent him a scathing look. “Sure, as long as you realize I won’t be there on Saturday. And one more thing…” He barely turned enough to look at Brady over his shoulder, as if the guy just wasn’t worth the effort. “I don’t take kindly to threats.”

Then he turned around and faced us, taking a bite of his burger like he hadn’t just had a showdown with his boss’ son in the middle of Suzette’s.

Against my will, my gaze flickered constantly to Brady as he made excuses to his friend and left the restaurant. His friend, who was the same exact type of privileged idiot, quietly left after a last glance our way.

“They’re gone,” I leaned forward and whispered while watching the front door close behind his friend. “Did he really mean that about making you lose your house?”

“You mean thatskeevy trailer?” Beck asked self-deprecatingly. “I’m sure. Whether Dale would fall for his lies or not, I can’t say. He loves his son, and if he tells him I threatened him, then…I might have to move into the cottage with you and Rhys.” His smile was so brittle, I thought it would fracture into a million pieces if it got any wider.

“That’s bullshit.” Jonah tossed the fry he’d just picked up back onto his plate. “I hate when rich pricks think they can flex their wealth over hard working, deserving people.”

This time, Beck’s smile was real. “Aw, little brother, are you saying you like me?”

“Well, no. It’s more the principle of the matter.” Jonah’s voice took on a gruff quality, but we both knew he was lying. He liked Beck. And Beck had grown a soft spot for him.

“Just say the worst happens and they kick you out, what are you going to do? You have the band, and I can’t see them letting you keep your job if they take the trailer away.” Jonah was really getting worked up. Reaching under the table, I slid my hand into his, and it seemed to quiet some of his growing rage.

---