Page 3 of Street of Dreams
Skylar raised her brows. “How many people are sitting at this table?”
“We both know that come midnight we’re going to wish we brought home a doggy bag.”
She nodded. “In that case, better get some wings too.”
He loved that she wasn’t one of those anorexic girls who only ate salad or healthy food. Sky was a curvy girl with beautiful curly black hair down to her waist that she usually wore in a high ponytail. Half white and half African American, she had gorgeous cheekbones and rich creamy skin.
“Sounds good.” He put down his menu and passed a plastic Walmart bag across the table. “I have something for you from my mother. She made you a container of Cullen skink.”
“Cullen what?” Skylar asked, with a small laugh, as she peered into the bag and cracked the lid on the container.
“Cullen skink. It’s like a chowder with smoked fish, potatoes and onions.”
“I smell it.” She re-sealed the container, removed her nose from the bag and blinked her long lashes from the pungent aroma. “What’s it called again?”
“Cullen skink. Cullen is a town in Scotland. Skink is a soup. Cullen skink.”
“I’ve known your parents since I was 10. I still don’t understand half the things they say.” She tied the plastic bag closed. “Tell your mom I said thank you. I’ll have it for lunch tomorrow.”
The waitress came to their table and took their order. After she returned with their drinks, and as they waited for their food, Skylar asked, “Same old, same old on Street of Dreams today?”
“Only one stabbing,” Mac joked.
“You need to get paying gigs where you can play your original music.”
“That’s the plan. I don’t have any connections, though. It’s hard.” Mac threw in a few originals now and then during his set on Street of Dreams, but most people wanted to hear covers. He wasn’t sure if people in clubs would be any different.
“You need to hustle, Mac. No one is going to roll up and offer you a record deal on Street of Dreams.”
He knew she was only trying to help and give him a push to further his career, but it was discouraging that he was still playing on the street. At this point, he should be in clubs and bars cultivating a fan base.
Food came and small talk stopped, except for yummy noises and passing plates back and forth across the table to each other.
“I swear I’m going to order a gallon of this barbeque sauce and take it home,” Mac said, as he finished a rib tip.
“You can put it on your Cullen stink,” Sky teased. Then she laughed and shook her head. “I didn’t mean that. I love your mom. And her cooking. Even if it’s a bit out of my comfort zone sometimes.”
Loud voices from the front of the restaurant made Mac pause with his fork halfway to his mouth. It was the King brothers. Twice in one day was almost too much for Mac to handle. Just being in the same room as Jake King made his spine tingle and his internal temperature rise.
He dropped his fork into his plate, unable to finish his bite of potato salad, because he needed a moment to breathe.
Skylar misinterpreted it and clucked her tongue. “I don’t know why you let them bother you so much. Just ignore them.”
Jake King was not someone you could ignore. He was the center of attention in every room. And usually not for a good reason.
“He just wants a reaction from you,” Skylar continued. “That’s why he was always in your face at school. Why couldn’t you just walk away? You always had to play right into his game. You still do. I swear, the two of you are like two bulls butting heads all the time. I wish the both of you would reign in the testosterone.” She glanced to where Jake was seated only a few tables away. “Especially him.”
Mac was barely listening. He felt Jake’s eyes on him, and it made his skin prickle. He tried to act normal and picked up a rib and started nibbling on it. “I can’t help it,” he said, licking sauce off his thumb. “He gets under my skin.” That was the God damn truth.
Eight minutes. That’s how long it took for Jake to make his way over to Mac and Skylar’s table. Jake had a way of always showing up wherever Mac went, and, inevitably, always had to give him a hard time. They could never be in the same room at the same time without a verbal exchange, always initiated by Jake. So, counting the minutes until Jake sought him out was a silent game that Mac always played.
Mac bit back a smile and focused on his food while the clunk of Jake’s heavy boots made their way over to his table. He raised his eyes when Jake slid into the booth next to Skylar and slid his arm across the back of her seat behind her head.
“Mind if I sit here?”
Skylar jerked away from Jake and looked at his arm on the back of the booth as if he had leprosy. “Really?”
Jake withdrew his arm but threw extra charm into his smile. “You didn’t answer my question.”
