Ocean's Storm

Chapter Eighteen

   Ocean's POV:

She got us out of work early. Well, not without stirring the pot and causing some furphy to start circulating around the kitchen and infiltrating right on into the dining room. Something about Davis watching pirated films and keeping a phone book with names of women and their pet names. I'm not entirely sure just how true the furphy is, but the thought of Davis having any of those items is rather repulsing.

"Just to be clear, Hilton, you didn't get us fired from our jobs, right?" Jake asks, leaning forward from the middle back seat to better look at Francesca.

Francesca turns her head to the side and leans back away from Jake to give herself some space. "Don't worry, Jacob, no one is going to lose their job."

"But, if we do?" I briefly take my eyes off of the road to glance over at Jake.

By the look on his face and the persistent sound in his voice every time he asks the question, I can tell Jake is not just going to let this go. He is one of those people that never misses a day of work nor does he just cut his shift short.

"If you do get fired from your current job, then I will be patiently waiting for a 'thank you,'" Francesca replies, sounding self-assured by her own words. "Your boss ought to be behind bars, but I'm sure you have both heard the rumors."

"The furphy going around is true, then?" I ask, feeling a bit more disgusted than before. What Davis does in his free time is his business, but he chose to bring his personal outside life into the work place's walls.

Placing her hand up to the side of her mouth and leaning over towards Jake a little, Francesca stage whispers. "What is a furphy?"

Mimicking Francesca's current posture, Jake stage whispers right back. "It's a fancy Australian word for rumor."

"You two do realize I am sitting right here?"

"It's not very polite of you to butt into our conversation, Carpenter." Francesca scolds, all the while playfully wagging her finger at me.

"For shame, Ocean, for shame!" rubbing his right index finger over the top of his left index finger, Jake cries out sarcastically.

The two of them start to crack up and high five each other for whatever they had managed to accomplish. I guess I stand corrected by the fact that Jake wouldn't let what Francesca had done go.

"Where exactly is it I'm going?" I ask the moment their laughter dies out.

"Wherever it is we won't run into anyone and can talk privately," Francesca states. I can feel her eyes burning directly into the side of my head.

"Take a right a mile up the road from school," Jake instructs me. "The food is fantastic at this place and no one is there from the hours of 6:30 a.m. - 9:30 p.m."

"Whose house are we going to?"

"Why to my apartment, of course!" Jake exclaims with a proud beaming smile. "Why else would I want to take my job so seriously?"

                   "You and your mom live in an apartment near the school?" Francesca asks curiously.

                    "Not exactly," Jake shakes his head with the proud smile still on his face. "My mom lives in a nice house in a gated community, but she also didn't want to make me move schools just for my final year. Technically, the apartment is still leased out to my mom, but I'm the one who ultimately pays the bills."