Jamie
Jo got awkward sometimes. Jamie could think that because it was true, because it often happened to him, and because he didn’t mean it to judge. Okay, those rules probably said more about his own mental state than he really wanted to consider, but he saw the ways Jo responded to him—and to his mom, and to anyone else around them—and figured he could do some things for her. They hadn’t talked about it outright, but she hadn’t told him not to, and he could see how she relaxed a little when the decision was taken out of her hands.
That sounded terrible. It wasn’t like he had full control of her life, but he could see sometimes that she got stuck thinking about all the possible consequences of what might seem to other people like a simple action, turning into Dr. Strange following every possible path with the infinity stones. It still felt like overstepping when he told her what to do, even when it was clearly the thing she’d intended to do, but the quick flash of a grateful smile made him feel better about doing it.
It was weird, maybe, that Jo’s parents weren’t asking him about himself. He had to assume they’d talked about him, the way Mom had talked about Jo with him, but wouldn’t they want to hear the answers from his own mouth? Surely at some point they’d want to know exactly how much the food truck actually made, and if he was living with his mom because there was no way he could support himself, much less their daughter.
Okay maybe they didn’t want to ask that yet because it presumed some sort of solid future beyond just another month of Jo in Brent and Amanda’s apartment. And wait, Jo only had a month left up here? The summer was just slipping away.
“Well, I figure we’ll do dinner tomorrow night?” Mary-Beth said in response to Allan’s questions about their plans for the weekend, raising an eyebrow at Jo and Jamie.
Jo smiled and squeezed his thigh. “I’m planning on bringing them by your food truck for lunch.”
That made him smile more than it really should. “We could still do the Rusty Barrel, though. I could get us reservations.”
“Whoa, eating Jamie’s meat twice in one day?” Allan chimed in.
“Allan Nathanial!” Mom hissed, but Jo’s parents burst out laughing.
“Bet that’s the first time you’ve heard that one,” Kent told Jamie, wiping tears from his eyes.
Jamie shook his head morosely. “Yeah, first time. Nobody’s ever thought of it before.”
“The Rusty Barrel sounds great,” Mary-Beth reassured him, but she was flushed, and yeah, once again Allan’s charm and double entendres worked their way on a married woman. “I mean, for dinner. A rusty barrel as a concept isn’t very appealing.”
“They had that discussion,” Jamie reassured her, hoping he didn’t sound like he’d said this dozens of times before. “It was this whole thing about how upscale they wanted to make it and what sort of expectations people would have depending on the name.”
“What were the other options?” Kent wanted to know.
Jamie shook his head. “More generic things, really. BBQ or Barbecue something or other. They didn’t really want to put a name to it in case management changed.”
“Unlike your food truck,” Mary-Beth put in brightly.
“Hey, that was a brilliant name,” Allan protested. “It’s clear, it’s specific, and it’s easy to remember. Where did you get that? Jamie’s Food Truck.” He shrugged. “Brilliant.”
“Yeah so Allan and Shane actually bought me the truck,” Jamie explained, which meant Jo’s parents laughed again.
Allan shook his head and held up a hand so no one else would jump in. “And it’s your favorite color, isn’t it? Everybody recognizes it, everybody knows the name, and Comic Sans is a good font even if you’re dyslexic, so I stand by all our choices and you’re welcome!”
“Okay, but did you know that about Comic Sans when you picked it, or did someone just come along and tell you later?” Jo interjected.
He pointed a finger at her. “You’re just mad I didn’t look at your files and pull out a name.”
“Wait, what?” Mary-Beth wanted to know, and Jamie winced a little.
“They showed me their Milwaukee file,” Allan explained. “Jo pulled Davis’s name out of nowhere like that”—he snapped his fingers—“so she thought maybe I’d look through it and remember one of Jamie’s creepy neighbors or something.”
Mom sniffed. “As if you could expect lightning to strike twice.” She, at least, didn’t seem to notice the way Kent and Mary-Beth shot their daughter intense looks to see how much Allan knew about where, exactly, she got Davis’s name, but Jo just laughed.
“It can hit me once and Allan once,” she protested, but her smile also dismissed the idea and accepted Mom’s rebuke. “Fine, you used up all your luck naming the food truck.”
Allan laughed and leaned over to nudge her shoulder with his own. “Slightly different impact on the course of the world in general and popular culture specifically, but I’ll take it.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll enjoy the results of your influence tomorrow,” Mary-Beth reassured him, getting them back to the food truck rather than Davis deftly and without even a wink, but Jamie relaxed a little.
“When we eat Jamie’s meat,” Kent added deadpan, causing his daughter to sigh and drop her face in her hands.
Jamie laughed despite himself, more at the combination of Jo’s reaction and Mom’s tight non-reaction, and he gave Jo a side hug before getting up to start busing their dishes. It really seemed like a good time to end things before Mom got too frustrated with Allan and refused to go away for the weekend.
They ended up walking Mom and Allan to the car. Allan shook hands with all the Lewises, but it seemed like Mom was having one of her struggles. She shook with Jo’s parents but gave Jo a brief hug, although it wasn’t really any shorter than the one she gave Jamie. “We’ll be back Sunday,” she told him, either like he’d have to make sure to get the house cleaned up by then or like he’d never been on his own this long before and needed a deadline for survival. Jamie didn’t want to ask what time Sunday, since it would just cause a delay here and now, so he nodded and told Allan to drive safely.
This was also the corner for him to head up the hill, though, so after Allan drove off he had to figure out his own departure. Jo turned to him before he could think of what to say. “Mom and Dad are following me up to see the archives,” she told him, “but then they’re on their own for the rest of the day. I’ll come by when I’m done?”
He wanted to tell her to be done early, but all he said was, “I’m packaging and prepping today. You know where to find me.” It didn’t take as long as the smoking days, and she had his schedule down by now.
Jo went up on tiptoe to give him a kiss and he moved to meet her for a peck on the lips. That made her grin, and blush, and okay, maybe his message had gotten through loud and clear.
“Until tomorrow,” Kent told him, offering his hand, and Jamie shook with him and then Mary-Beth before Jo gestured her parents down the hill so they’d have a gentler slope on the way back to her apartment and he was left alone on his trek up.
Chapter Thirty-Seven – coming November 6
