Page 132 of Mother Parker
“I’m so sorry. I don’t think we’re ready yet,” I said straight away.
“That’s okay. We’ll wait,” said a woman at the front of the line with a warm smile.
A buff man stood at the top of the line with his hands up and a sinister glow in his eyes. He had spiky dirty-blond hair, and when he turned to look at me, I was taken aback by his bright-green eyes.
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep them in check,” he grunted, rolling a toothpick between his lips.
“Who are you?” I asked before I could help myself.
There was something about this guy that both terrified and excited me. And I didn’t know which was worse.
“Joey Fowler,” he said. “I used to work for…Wyatt.”
I nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever edge this man had, he was safe. If he worked for Wyatt, he was a good guy.
“Mr. Kim, Santiago Ortiz with the Mayberry Holm Gazette. Do you have any comments for the local residents? What happened—”
A young man, about my height, or slightly taller, with a messy brown pompadour and a pair of striking black eyes, waved at me and tried to come closer. Joey put his hand up smack dab across his chest and stopped him mid-sentence.
“Where do you think you’re going, bro?” Joey told him, and the reporter yelped. Whether from the pain or the impact, it was impossible to know.
“I’m trying to take a statement, bro,” he told Joey and tried to bypass him again without much success.
“No press,” Joey said.
“Says who?”
“Says me,” he insisted.
“Last time I checked, this was still America, asshole. And we still have freedom of the press,” the reporter told him.
I had to admit. It was quite intoxicating to watch the two squabble. A physically strong man and a mentally strong opponent going head to head.
“Can you come back? I’m about to go to the police station, so I can’t talk, but I’ll be here later,” I told him.
As much as I’d enjoy seeing what kind of comeback Joey would have, I didn’t need another scene in front of my shop. And I truly did have to go. If only Parker was done with Wyatt.
“Fine,” the man said and stepped back, seeming to compose himself before turning to thank me. “See, that’s how civilized people behave,” he told Joey before he walked off in a huff.
“Thanks,” I told Joey.
His scowl barely changed when he lifted a shoulder and mumbled, “Anytime.”
And then Parker stepped out and huffed.
“What are you doing here, dickbag?” he shouted at Joey.
I almost screamed because, apparently, everyone liked to cause a scene inside and outside my café.
“I’m here to help, asshole,” Joey replied.
“We don’t need help from your—”
Before Parker finished his sentence, I pulled him away.
“What’s gotten into you? What was that about?” I asked when we’d walked around the building to where Maddox was waiting in his car with Elliot.
“I want you to stay away from that guy,” Parker grumbled.
