“I don’t know where they find these grumpy girls,” Ginger said, looking back over her shoulder. “They make you feel like you’re committing a crime just to get something to eat.
“Yeah, I miss Brittany’s personal service with a smile.”
The line dwindled until they were at the front where kids grabbed their plates and shuffled off to find seats. Hunter received a plate of something brown and something green and a couple of yellow lumpy things. His stomach rolled from the smell, but after working all day for his three casino chips, he was going to eat. He managed to thank the greasy-haired girl who handed him the plate. She sneered and Hunter quickly moved away before she flung her serving spoon and peppered him with something brown.
Ginger directed his attention upward. “I bet I made one of those candles today.”
Several chandeliers hung from the ceiling and each one held twelve white candles in a flaming circle. At least the gloomy kids living in Denver were treated to a cheery glow at dinner. Judging by the contents on his tray, Hunter mused it might be better to eat the slop in the dark.
“You got to stir a pot of boiling pig fat?” he asked.
“You don’t have to make it sound so unpleasant.”
“Who do you think was cutting the fat out of the pig?”
Ginger made a yucky face, but that was probably caused by the stuff on her plate. Hunter followed her to an empty table and then left to fetch waters. When he returned, some skinny kid with dirty hands and long, black hair that hung in greasy strands stood at their table. The kid caught sight of Hunter’s approach and leaned closer to Ginger.
“Why you want to be like that? I was hoping we could keep each other warm tonight.”
Hunter placed the drinks on the table and crossed his arms. “Go away.”
“Whoa! Hey, nice hair. This is between her and me. What’s your problem?”
“She’s my sister, and you smell like a pile of crap. Now take off.”
Ginger tapped Hunter’s leg. He ignored her and glared at the skinny kid.
The kid held up his hands, smiled a yellow row of teeth, and backed away. Hunter watched him until he sat down with a bunch of other kids. They all laughed, but Hunter paid them no more attention.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. He was just rude. You’re lucky he backed down.”
Hunter snorted. “That kid, are you serious? I would have torn him a new one.”
“I realize that, but we’re trying to keep a low profile, not beat up kids with bad manners.”
Hunter conceded with a nod and then forked in his food as fast as he could without thinking about what it might be and how many foreign objects fell into it while it was prepared. Then he washed it all down with water that smelled like eggs. Hopefully, it was purified, but Hunter wished he had brought his iodine.
Ginger picked at her food, following every bite with a drink. She sputtered and started coughing.
“Are you choking?” Hunter asked, rising from his seat.
“At the door,” she managed to say.
Hunter tracked her gaze and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end when he recognized him. A ripple of anger stopped his breath for a moment.
Patrick stood at the hostess station, giving the little girl on the barstool a hard time. He was bigger than Hunter remembered, but that red hair set him apart like a brushfire. Patrick flipped his casino chip into the can and patted the girl on top of her rainbow cap.
Hunter turned back. He drained his water in two giant gulps.
“What do we do?” Ginger asked.
“Finish dinner. We’ll go outside and follow him when he comes out. Hopefully, he’ll lead us to Catherine.” Hunter wiped his mouth and stood up with his glass. “Can I get you some more water?”
Ginger looked at her empty glass and her plate that was still half-full. “Yes, please.”
Hunter filled their glasses. He didn’t want to go stalk the beast with his brother’s girlfriend. Patrick might recognize him or catch them following and then bad things might happen. Jimmy would never forgive him if bad things happened to Ginger, but Hunter couldn’t send her back to the hideout, either. Too many desperate eyes followed her in the daylight to let Ginger chance Denver alone in the dark.
He was about to return to the table when someone poked his back. Patrick loomed over him like a mountain.
“Hey, man, would you get me a glass of that water?”
Hunter stood for a second with his hands full. He lowered his gaze to the floor. The tops of Patrick’s boots were covered with dark red spots and he smelled like stale sweat. Hunter offered one of his full glasses to the kid that nearly killed his brother three months ago.
Patrick nodded back, oblivious. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Hunter filled a new glass. His shaking hands spilt water onto the counter. His heart raced and he took a deep breath, struggling to keep himself under control.
“Don’t touch me!” Ginger screamed.
Hunter spun to see the skinny kid back at their table, his tongue sticking out, groping Ginger’s chest from behind. She waved her arms in an attempt to fight him off, but he pressed her into the table. He smiled at three other boys standing nearby and laughed.
Hunter exploded into a blind rage. He flew into the kid and pinned him to the ground. Unleashing his anger through his fists, each punch chased the next with meaty thuds.
Someone bumped against his back. He reached behind, grabbed an unknown arm and flung another boy on top of the first. He punched the new kid several times before standing up from the pile, panting. He spotted the other two and stepped in their direction. They retreated, unwilling to join the scrum and ran for the door.
“Behind you!” Ginger screamed.
Hunter whirled. The skinny kid, his face bloodied, sped toward him with a chair held high. Hunter brought his arms up in preparation for the blow. Instead, the boy slid across the table in front of Ginger, scattering the remains of her dinner and crashing to the floor on the other side. Patrick stood in his place.
Hunter clenched his fists. He wasn’t ready for this fight. Not alone.
Patrick’s smile totally disarmed Hunter’s ramped-up adrenaline. “Just a second,” Patrick said, holding up his index finger. The big kid stepped around the table. “Tommy the Perv. How’s puberty, Tommy? Looks like those urges got the best of you this time.”
“Hey, Patrick,” Tommy said, glancing around like he was trying to find a way out of a maze after eating the cheese. “Look, man, I didn’t know this dude was a friend of yours. Swears. I was just talking to his sister, know what I mean?”
“I know exactly what you mean. That’s why you’re the Perv.” Patrick’s face went grim. “You’ve been told to cut the shit. Now get out of my town.”
“But, Patrick.”
Patrick punched the kid so hard that even Hunter’s teeth rattled from the concussive force. The dinner crowd groaned in response to the violence. Tommy the Perv’s face ricocheted off Patrick’s knuckles, and his head bounced back and forth, bobbling like his spring broke.
Patrick pointed to Tommy’s lone friend still sitting on the ground where a smelly puddle gathered. “Help Tommy to the edge of town and make sure he keeps going or you’ll be following him. Got it?”
“I got it. I got it.” The kid took hold of Tommy and dragged him outside. The sound of Tommy’s crying carried through the walls.
All the kids in the cafeteria applauded. What they applauded, Hunter was unsure. All he knew was that he’d just drawn a truckload of attention.
Patrick shook hands with kids like a politician, and even slapped some high and low fives, and bumped a few knuckles. He waved the rest of the applause down and walked over to Hunter.