The Layover

by Lacie Waldon

“And yet you’re not answering my question,” I say. R.J. smiles. “Yeah, answer my good friend Ava’s question.” Jack’s eyes narrow as he takes the two of us in. I’m not sure if he’s only just realizing his dad and I have been talking for a while or if he’s surprised to discover his dad likes me. Either way, I suspect he doesn’t approve. But I can’t be certain because he only shrugs and lifts a hand to R.J.’s shoulder. “Oh, Juan José Padilla here set it up in the front window. He had to wave that red cape. Taunt the bull.” “Who the hell is Juan Padilla?” R.J. asks. “A famous matador,” I say absently, my eyes narrowing on Jack’s hand. “But if you resolved everything so peacefully, why are your knuckles scraped up?” Jack stiffens and his hand drops back to his side. Something that looks like betrayal sweeps across his face. Before I can make sense of it, it’s replaced by a studied nonchalance that’s a little too tight at the edges to be believable. “The guy didn’t exactly show up looking for a conversation,” Jack says. “Now we’re talking!” R.J.’s eyes light up. “There was a fight? How bad off did you leave him? Did you break his nose? Knock a couple of teeth out of that loud mouth of his? I told him he was in for a world of pain. I just wish I could’ve been the one to deliver it myself.” I ignore R.J., focused instead on the way Jack’s lips press together. With every word R.J. says, they grow a little whiter at the edges, like Jack is focusing his entire being on keeping them s...