In Skates Trouble (The Chicago Rebels Series) by Kate Meader

Author:Kate Meader [Meader, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kate Meader Books
Published: 2017-04-30T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

JIMMY’S TAP IN BRIDGEPORT was the kind of place a classy woman like Addison Williams wouldn’t be seen dead in, so it was probably good she had turned down Ford’s offer. It did, however, have all the elements of a great South Side dive bar: draft Pabst, decent Italian beef next door, and TVs switched to the White Sox game. Even in hockey and football season, Jimmy preferred to play reruns of the Sox winning the series in ’05. (Cubbies? What Cubbies.)

No one dared to fuck with the remote.

At least that was the SOP in years gone by. Walking in, Jax had told Ford that Jimmy made an exception for the Rajuns going all the way because he was that proud of a local boy making good.

Another change since the last time Ford had was here was the addition of a patio. And as Ford was 99.9% certain that Jimmy didn’t offer much in the way of party catering, he assumed Marcy must have put the whole hood on sandwich-making duty. He was equally sure that this much potato salad would never again be gathered in one spot. Must have cost a few Bennies. He’d slip her some cash later.

“Pretty fancy patio, Jimmy,” Ford said when the grizzled old-timer put his head outside. The guy was squinting like he worried his skin might burn from exposure to the elements. Ford couldn’t recall ever seeing him in natural sunlight.

“Da kids seem to like it. Next dey’ll be wantin’ service at da fuckin’ tables.”

Now that was the Jimmy Ford knew and loved.

“Ya did good, Callaghan,” Jimmy continued out of the side of his mouth, a mighty fine impression of Burgess Meredith in Rocky, “even if it was with da wrong team. Rebels shoulda picked you up when dey had a chance.”

Three years ago, they’d tried to acquire him. Now, they couldn’t afford him, not with the way he’d played during the series. He was a winner, a god among men, and any woman would be happy to have him.

Any woman but Addison.

Coming in tonight, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t think of her, but the woman had a foothold in his brain, which was so not good for his mental well-being. She wasn’t interested and why the hell would she be? Apart from the obvious complication with her ex, a jock was probably the last guy she’d want warming her bed. Guys like that accountant at Harper’s dinner party were more her speed, even if he had been a condescending asshole with his “my wife won’t need to work” bullshit.

He redirected his focus back to the party. Everyone and his aunt had detached from their sofas to celebrate with him, and it was a blast to see guys he’d gone to school with, girls he’d felt up behind the gym, and even his tenth grade math teacher, Mr. O’Brien, who now assured him he’d always known Ford “would go far.” The same teacher who would flick a ruler at his ear because Ford liked to nap on his desk in the early afternoon.

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