Jamie
Normally Jamie didn’t mind being the guy fixing the orders instead of the guy at the window, but it meant he couldn’t keep an eye out in case Jo came to the farmers’ market. He didn’t think she would, exactly, and it was probably silly to hope for it, but it was still a strange annoyance. Then again, Ricky was at the window, so he didn’t think he’d be allowed to miss it if Jo was out there.
Jamie had to be there early to make sure the truck was in place and he wouldn’t drive through other vendors’ stalls, but Ricky generally showed up at the last minute, handed Jamie his to-go cup from Dead River Coffee, and adopted his morning person persona right before he opened the window. Friday nights weren’t really the best choice for game night considering how two of them generally had early Saturday call times, but it was the only night Mom was reliably out of the house.
Maybe Mom latched onto Jo so suddenly because at least it meant the guys hadn’t made him gay.
The market ran from nine until one, and even at nine people lined up at Jamie’s Food Truck. It was kind of a brilliant name because it was so simple, even though he figured Allan and Shane thought of it as a joke. It wasn’t even as specific as Jamie’s Barbecue Truck. Shane said it was so they wouldn’t limit his creativity, but Jamie always suspected it was because Shane didn’t care enough to learn what kind of food Jamie actually liked making. He was supposed to be grateful that they’d thought of him at all.
Okay and it was probably a good thing his mood didn’t actually get imparted into his cooking.
Ricky could turn it off and on when he wanted to, and there were times Jamie wondered how Chase put up with it instead of wondering if their relationship was just another part of the act, but he could see the usefulness, too. He didn’t really need it, since he looked at the order slips and prepared the paper dishes while only interacting with Ricky himself, but he’d studied it. Ricky was flirty with everyone, but it didn’t mean anything.
Well, at the beginning Ricky had flat-out told Jamie he was flirting with him and it did mean something, but he also hadn’t let Jamie’s sorry, no get in the way of their friendship. Was that a gift or a hard-earned skill?
Food truck days were far more exhausting than smoking days. On smoking days he was like so many hard-working Americans: on his ass for eight hours or so. Food truck days meant a lot of standing, and even with shoe inserts and the memory foam mats, he’d still gotten into the habit of taking Aleve in the morning to try to get ahead of it. Being younger, Ricky was of course in the habit of rolling his eyes, but he’d get there.
Jo was Ricky’s age. Jo’s mom was basically Jamie’s age, which was weird as fuck, but Jo was Ricky’s age. That was an acceptable gap. Honestly his entire friend group was people who couldn’t find someone within a decade. Maybe Jo’s mom was the same, but ugh, fifteen and twenty-five? That was a problem.
If he really wanted to know, he could text Allan about his friend Brent’s wife’s friend from college, but he didn’t want to know badly enough to let Allan in on it. He’d ask, but he’d want to know why, and Jamie didn’t even know Jo’s mom’s name. Somebody Lewis. Yeah, Allan, Amanda’s friend Somebody Lewis.
Ricky waved to their final customer, turned the sign over to CLOSED, shut the window, and held his smile until he stepped just out of sight. “Phew,” he declared, twisting his back and making Jamie wince with the popcorn crackle. “How close did you call it today?”
Jamie eyed the leftovers. “Close enough to make me nervous. Looks like half a dozen.” He didn’t have to worry about the bottom line quite as much since the Rusty Bucket was a steady paycheck, but Mom only ate chicken and fish, and most of his friends were probably sick of free pork.
“Booyah.” Ricky held up his fist and Jamie stripped off his plastic gloves before he bumped it. “Okay, let’s see what our lunch plans are.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. They were both in jeans, with their cobalt blue Jamie’s Food Truck shirts on top. Jamie had a T-shirt, and Ricky had the short sleeve one that buttoned up the front. Jamie started to put things away but turned back when he heard Ricky’s chuckle. “Alrighty then.”
Frowning, Jamie took his phone to see the most recent text from Chase: Meet Jo and me at Trenary Toast. “Uh.” He didn’t think Jo had given her number to anyone else.
“He was going to the library,” Ricky offered, taking his phone back so he had both hands free for cleanup. “Maybe he ran into her there.”
Maybe Jo ran into Mom there. Jamie couldn’t always keep track of her hours, but she’d go there even when she wasn’t volunteering, especially when the weather wasn’t good enough to sit around outside.
Ricky paused long enough to raise an eyebrow. “Maybe he rescued Jo from your mom?”
God, was he that transparent? Jamie turned back to the prep counter and got busy. “I don’t know if she was there.” Did Jo even know Mom volunteered there, or would she have been blindsided? Seriously, he’d only met her Thursday and he couldn’t think of her as not knowing something about his life.
The fact that Ricky was silent for long should’ve warned him, but instead Ricky clucked his tongue loudly and almost made him jump. “I’m calling it now: you’re not strictly aro-ace. You’re gray in at least one of those spectrums.”
“I’m pretty sure the plural is spectra.” Oh, good comeback there, Jamie. Clearly with a single sentence he’d stopped all of Ricky’s thoughts in their tracks.
“Jamie, buddy. Pal.” Ricky turned and put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder, which wasn’t hard considering the size of the food truck meant he couldn’t exactly escape. “Does it help if Chase and I both agree she’s crushing on you right back?”
No. No, actually, it didn’t help, and he turned away like he really needed to make sure the lower cabinets were secured and not because it meant Ricky wouldn’t see the expression on his face.
Chapter Thirteen – coming October 13
