Page 66 of How Not to Date a Griffin

“Reid!” Nolan hissed behind him. “You can’t just – oh, no.”

His voice broke off as Reid came to a stop in the main dining area.

A window had been shattered, and the culprit lay on the ground in front of a booth. A brick.

Glass littered the booth and its table, as well as the floor.

“Shit,” Reid breathed, covering his face with his hands. “Are you okay?” he asked, turning toward Nolan.

He was a little pale, yet flushed at the same time, eyes wide. “Y-yes. I’m fine. I can’t believe this,” he said, moving a little closer.

Reid pulled him back by the shoulder. “Stay here,” he told him.

Nolan nodded, and once Reid was certain he would stay put, he disappeared to the back to get a broom. He returned, the remnants of the window framing the perfect view of the sidewalk and street outside.

“Fuckin’ kids,” Reid muttered, bending down to sweep the shards of glass into the dustpan. It was probably just kids. Like usual.

Warm air spilled in through the broken window, the streetlamp glaringly bright with no glass to soften it.

“Here,” Nolan murmured, and sat a trash can down beside him with a thump. “I’m so sorry this happened,” he said.

“S’not your fault,” Reid said, dejected. Where was he going to get the money to replace an entire fucking window panel? Again? “That’s what I get for wanting natural light.” He tried to lighten the mood. “Besides, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“What do you mean?” Nolan asked. He leaned over to pick up the brick, and Reid glared to make sure he didn’t cut himself on a stray piece of glass, but didn’t stop him, and swept more glass into a small pile.

“This isn’t the first time it’s happened, and it won’t be the last. That’s the second time this year. Which... Just frustrating that it’s happened at all, y’know.”

“What? Why haven’t the police done anything?” Nolan asked.

Reid glanced up at him. “The police don’t give a shit about some vandal. It’s just fuckin’ kids, anyway.”

“Oh,” Nolan said, hands twisting in that anxious way they sometimes did.

“Yeah, like I said, shit happens. Someone graffitied the front windows last time. Bunch of dicks all over the wall. I would’ve laughed if it hadn’t been such a bitch to clean off.” Eventually, he’d learned to just use a razor to scrape it away instead of smudging it around with soap and water. The paneling, though? It had taken him days.

“How often does this happen?”

Reid shrugged, another dustpan’s worth of glass tinkling as he dumped it into the trash. “Truthfully? It’s a new thing. I don’t know what’s gotten into the kids these days, but sometimes… sometimes it's enough to make me wanna close up shop, y’know? If even the community doesn’t respect and love this place… what’s the point?”

Nolan remained quiet, and suddenly Reid was angry. Pissed, actually. Why was the community so against them? Why was everything so difficult?

“It’s not just me, either,” he admitted bitterly. “Chippy’s? Their freezers went down last month, so they had to throw out all of their stock. All of it. The owner sold his truck just so they could keep the place open.” He huffed, chest tight and warm with frustration. “That’s why I can’t stand people like your dad. They’re sharks. They sense the blood and swarm, throwing offers at us we almost can’t afford to turn down.”

“God… that’s awful. I never realized…”

Nolan sounded so dejected, and Reid exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “No, no. I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just hard, sometimes.”

Nolan’s fancy shoes entered his line of sight, but before he could tilt his head up, Nolan was kneeling down, motioning for the broom and dustpan.

“Go have a drink, I’ll finish this up.”

“But—”

“No arguing. I’ve got it. I won’t tell night shift you dirtied another glass after they did the dishes, either.”

His hand covered Reid’s on the handle, warm and sure and just the anchor he needed in that moment, amongst the swirling depths of outrage and doubt and confusion.

“Okay,” he finally agreed, standing with a crack of his knee or hip or some other ancient part of his body, and made his way to the bar.