Page 65 of Jake Forever
Over the past few months, Jake had cost Vince and his clients a ton of money, mostly by making those clients look like total idiots. They'd lost their tempers. They'd lost fights. And then, they'd lost it, literally.
I recalled one guy – some hotshot basketball player – who'd been caught beating the crap out of a taco stand two days after losing an impromptu fight with Jake.
It didn't help, of course, that until then, the guy had spent most of his free time cultivating a bad-ass, tough-guy image, mostly by bullying people half his size.
Now, his image was toast, along with his endorsement deals – except for, sadly, a regional taco chain that had made a mockery of the whole situation.
Soaking in the tub, I was still trying to make sense of it all when I heard my cell phone ring. I sat up in the tub and looked around.
And then, I sighed.
My phone was still in the pocket of Vince's hoodie, now lying across the bathroom counter. From the tub, I couldn't even begin to reach it. But I definitely needed to.
Ever since leaving work, I'd been waiting for a call from my boss, telling me whether or not I still had a job.
Hoping for good news, I scrambled out of the tub and almost ran, naked and dripping across the tile floor. I dug out the phone and glanced at the display. I didn't recognize the number, but that didn’t stop me from answering with a breathless, "Hello?"
A male's voice, low and smooth, responded with a phrase that had become painfully familiar. "Hey Babe."
Oh, crap.
I recognized that voice, and unfortunately, it didn't belong to my boss, or to Jake, for that matter.
