On the floor of Cade's truck were three cans of Reddi Wip, two chocolate and one plain. There was also a pile of Taco Bell trash and an empty fifth of Jack. A lavender thong hung from the truck's shifter, his t-shirt was twisted around his left fore...
Cade pressed his fingertips to his temple and squeezed. "Don't remember being around anybody like that."
Laurent's only response was a grunt as he stepped to the two-burner stove. He flipped on one flame, set his cast iron frying pan over it, then asked, "Two or three eggs?"
"Two. I'll be lucky if I can keep that down."
"Might be you need to think on your life choices." He took the butter dish from the table, sliced a hunk off, dropped it into the pan then went to the refrigerator.
"So you say."
Laurent's voice was low, thick. "Last night wasn't like the others, Cade." He shook his head then took out a carton of eggs.
That sort of warning was a shit load of emotion coming from Laurent. Cade downed the rest of the coffee, hopped off the counter, moved over to sit on a stool. As he stared at Laurent's square back, he tried again to dig his way through the images mired deep in his head. That girl in the shorts. The quarters. Beer and pizza. Ditching the little guy. The drive to the swamp. Finishing the beer. Starting on the whiskey.
Across the room, Laurent cracked the eggs and single-handedly dropped them into the sizzling pan. They snapped and popped in the melted butter, a gentle fizz that suggested something other than eggs. The sound nipped at the edges of memory.
Hiss.
Hiss.
Cade got off the stool, went around to stand beside the stove. "Snapchat, huh?"
Laurent took a small spatula from a hook and flipped the eggs one at a time. Once he'd turned them all, he replied with a single nod. "Yeah."
"Video? Or picture?"
Laurent turned off the flame and grabbed two plates. "Videos," he said over his shoulder, extending the 's' for emphasis.
Cade went back to the barstool. "Did you replay them?"
"You fucking kidding? I knew that shit was going to give me nightmares, so I stopped watching them." Once the eggs were on the table, he added, "I only watched them because I—"
The faint clink of metal sounded from a drawer. Laurent took out two forks, put them on the table and sat.
Cade picked up one of the forks. "You what?"
The old man stabbed into an egg. Bright yellow yolk ran in a fine, oozing stream to the edge of the plate. "Like I said," he speared a piece of the white, slid it into his mouth then talked around it. "I was worried about you, you fucking asshole."
But there had been a girl. A blonde. In shorts. "Do you think I got laid?"
"Fuck you."
Cade reached back for his phone, realizing when his hand connected with the soft cotton covering his ass that his phone was, hopefully, somewhere in his truck. "You didn't watch all of them?"
"No. I did not. I know what you're thinking. Let's eat first."
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