Riptide by Lindsey Scheibe Page A

apartment. Dude talks more than most girls. Good thing he’s funny.
    Before turning into his lot, I ask, “So, do I need to park on the street? What’s the deal with guests?”
    Hop laughs. “Who said you were a guest? That kind of thinking might make me feel a little sorry when I take all your money.”
    I snort. “Ha. Where do I park?”
    “You can park in our spot, 1412 A. The neighbors might think we got a vehicle.”
    I turn in and cut the engine. Esmerelda’s cough sputters.
    Hop says, “Whoa, dude. We’ve got standards.” He pats the dash. “She might make us look bad with her crankiness.”
    The apartment building is kind of a dump on the outside. Hop’s got a good sense of humor—my truck looks at home here. I step outside and enjoy the image of Hop struggling to open the passenger door.
    When he finally barrels out, much like Grace does, he says, “What I lack in muscle, I make up for in cunning. How else do you think my skinny ass survived this part of town for sixteen years?”
    I double-take. “Sixteen? I thought you were a senior.”
    He shrugs, sheepish. “I am. Let’s go check out Mom’s latest and greatest.”
    The key sticks when Hop tries to unlock his front door. He jiggles the key and lifts the door to get in. A little WD40 would fix that. I’ll bring some with me next poker night.
    We walk into a small, immaculate apartment. The living and dining rooms are kind of combined into one. The perfect bachelor pad. You can see their kitchen from the front door. And the smells coming out of that oven make me want to cry.
    I say, “Dude, this could be my second home.”
    Hop grins appreciatively. “Wait until you taste it. Mom works at Bountiful Moon bakery.”
    “I’m their newest customer.”
    “Tell ’em Hop sent you.”
    His mom walks in from the hallway.
    “Hey,” Hop says. “These moon cakes for poker night?”
    She nods and her eyes lighten. “Suzhou are on the counter. New recipe in oven. Chocolate nut fruit.”
    Hop gives his mom a big squeeze. “You rock. Thanks.”
    Her eyes widen. She nods at me. “You must be Hop’s friend from work.”
    I step forward and shake the hair out of my eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Ford. It’s nice to meet you.”
    “I am Mrs. Liang. Nice to meet you. You like moon cakes?”
    I take in a deep breath and close my eyes. Then I open them. “I love them.”
    “Good.” She looks at Hop. “Make sure your friend get enough to eat. Extra Suzhou. He growing boy.”
    I like the way she thinks.
    Hop says, “Yes ma’am.”
    “ You boys don’t get too loud this night. You know Mrs. Tan will complain rest of week at Laundromat.”
    Hop rolls his eyes. “Mrs. Tan can—”
    “Say what she like,” Mrs. Liang says. “Watch the noise.” Oh man. The Look is definitely universal.
    Hop backs down fast. “Yes ma’am.”
    Then Mrs. Liang goes back into her room and closes the door. A minute later, the sounds of a sewing machine fill the space she left.
    I look at Hop. “Dude, your mom has you whipped.”
    He shrugs. “And your mom doesn’t?”
    I grin. “Ma’s from Mexico. What do you think?”
    He grins. “Want a moon cake?”
    “You know it. What’s Suzhou?”
    He grabs some plates and stacks a few moon cakes on them. “My favorite. They’re made from pork. Mom adds some kick to hers. Hope you can handle the heat.”
    I grab the plate out of his hands. “Handle the heat? Ma’s mole sauce will make a man beg for mercy. When do the guys get here?”
    Hop’s face turns serious. “About that. One of my friends needs—”
    The doorbell rings. Hop shouts, “We already started loading up on the moon cakes.”
    The door flies open. A short Asian kid decked out like a pimp stands in the doorway, complete with dark glasses and gold chains. “What’s up, yo?”
    Then he strides over to the bar and loads up a plate. He gives me a side glance and does the head nod.
    I say, “’Sup?”
    Hop balls up a paper towel and pegs Future Pimp in the