Page 60 of Still Bruised
Paulie lowered the knife he’d been using to break down the whole chickens and faced Jude. “I apologize. Whoever Foster likes is his business. I got caught up in the gossip and… opened my big, dumb fucking mouth. Forgive me?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jude muttered.
Paulie frowned, appearing worried. “Shit, man… I have no problem with who you enjoy being with. You know that. You wanna be gay, be gay. It don’t hurt me in any way and ain’t my business.”
“Fine,” Jude said. “Let’s move on.”
Paulie looked a little relieved and picked up his knife. “Yeah. Whatever you say, boss. I’ll have this case cut down to quarters and pieces in no time. Lemme know if you want me to do a second one before I clean up.”
“Go ahead and do another. The case was real low,” Jude said before walking on to the tiny office in the back.
He sat down at his father’s desk and shut the door before scrubbing his face with both hands and then dragging out his phone. He quickly found Foster on Insta and checked out the guy’s photos. The most recent were months old, close to a year ago. Him and Ashley dressed to the nines, out at somerestaurant. Ashley looked… off. Like she’d had some work done. But her toothy smile was the same. She’d always made him think of a shark with a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth that would tear you to shreds. She leaned in close to Foster, showing off her trim body.
Foster, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there. Sure, he smiled, but it was weak, and if you looked in his eyes, you could see he was forcing it. Jude scrolled down farther, to earlier photos, and it was much the same. As he scrolled back up to the top, it was like watching Foster fading away, though. The smiles were less wide. The eyes more vacant.
Ashley was tagged in his photos, so Jude clicked on her profile. First up was a photo of a bikini-clad Ashley clinging to someone who definitely wasn’t Foster on some tropical getaway. His gaze went to the top of the post. A month ago in Maui. So, she was already vacationing with new boyfriends?
Good for her.
Jude tossed his phone onto the desk, not sure what that little bit of digging had done to help anything. What did he care if they were separated or if Ashley was seeing other people? It mattered not a lick.
Not a one.
So why did he grab his phone to do a little more digging before forcing himself to go back to work?
12
Later that evening, after his second confrontation with Foster Price, Jude was woundwaytoo tight. He’d stewed at work, but at least there, he’d had other things to keep his mind and hands occupied. At home, all alone, he had nothing to keep him from churning it over and over again in his mind. An apology? What the fuck?
While he’d told Anton that Foster wasn’t to blame for what happened, the guy had still played a big hand in what went down. Jude had taken all the heat while Foster had gotten away, life intact. He owed him more than a shitty apology.
Foster needed to pay.
Of course, hehadgotten in that punch, which had felt great. But it wasn’t enough.
When Foster had been in the shop, there had been no mention of the partyorthe punch. Had he just been keeping it dl because they’d been in public or did Foster not realize it had been him? He chuckled to himself.
He doesn’t know. Figures. I matter so little in his world.
For some reason, Foster not putting two and two together pissed him off even more. Jude wanted the asshole to know whose fist it had been that had planted itself in the middle of his face.
Jude’s head was all over the place. He paced his apartment, the setting sun casting long shadows over his living room. Anton wasn’t answering texts. He didn’t want to call Roan and interrupt his time with Mia before the baby came. Yet he didn’t want to be alone, either. Probably shouldn’t be as antsy as he was. Grabbing his phone to text Anton again, he ended up searching Grindr instead. He sent a few messages, but no one of interest was on.
Once the sun fully set and the apartment grew dark, his stomach growled. He walked downstairs, appreciating the slight chill to the air as he opened his front door. Shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets, he headed toward the hoagie joint a few blocks down, hoping the walk might do him good.
But his feet led him somewhere else instead.
Jude ended up across town, far from Pat’s Hoagies. He knocked on the front door of a lovely two story split-level in an upscale neighborhood, sure he’d lost every last brain cell.
An older woman with ice-blue eyes opened the door. She smiled at him. “How are you, Jude?”
He was a bit shocked she knew who he was. The last time she’d seen him had probably been grade school. He and Foster had been in the same fifth grade class. Mrs. Price had been their room mom. How he’d adored that woman. She reminded him of his own mother.
“I’m good, thanks, Mrs. P. Is—” He paused and took a steadying breath. “Is Foster around?”
She pointed a finger behind her shoulder. “He’s staying in the little apartment above our garage. Last I heard, he was up there, but I can’t say that for sure. He’s in and out sometimes.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Sorry to have bothered you. Have a nice night,” Jude said before backing down the small ramp that led to the front door.
