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I wagged my finger between Peeb and me. “Who do you think would win?”
The look on his face changed to worried. “Oh, I’d hate to guess.”
“Guess.” I said.
“I really…”
I narrowed my eyes. “Guess.”
He pointed to me.
“Come on, Peeb,” I said with a laugh.
“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Pee Bee said, laughing as he spoke. “I’ve got fifty pounds and seven inches on him. You picked him?”
The butcher shrugged.
Pee Bee chuckled. “Why?”
“Why’d I pick him?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because he looks mean.”
“He might look mean, but I am mean.”
“Come on, tough guy,” I said. “Let’s go before you hurt someone.”
We paid for the meat, and walked out to our bikes.
“Wanna eat?” I asked.
“Sooner or later, yeah.”
I raised my leg over the seat and sat down. After strapping on my helmet, I turned toward Peeb. His helmet still hung from his handlebars. He sat staring blankly out at the street.
I cleared my throat. “You coming?”
He nodded. “You bringing her to the barbeque?”
The annual barbeque was a family event and everyone was welcome. “Was thinking about it.”
“Funny how things change.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He looked at me. “You ain’t brought anybody to the barbeque since we been havin’ ‘em. Just funny. Not funny haha, but funny weird.”
I glared back at him in disbelief. “It’s weird that I’m bringing her?”
“Now you’re bringing her? Not thinking about it?”
“I’m fuckin’ bringing her. Jesus.” I shifted my eyes to the street. After a short pause, I continued. “She’s a good woman.”
“No argument here. It’s just weird, that’s all.”
“Don’t make it into something it isn’t. She’s not my Ol’ Lady.”
“Ain’t makin’ it into nothin’, Boss. Don’t get me wrong, I like that little bitch. A lot. She’s good people.”
I nodded in agreement. “Fish tacos?”
“Sounds good,” he responded. “But changing the subject ain’t gonna make me stop asking questions.”
He could ask all the questions he wanted, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to answer them.
Because I had no earthly fucking idea where my life with Peyton was headed.
