***continuation of The Shirt Police***

Without warning, the other two Musketeers stormed into the tattoo parlor, looking angry and relieved that they'd found us at the same time.

"What are you doing here?" Jordan shouted. "You two gave us a heart attack!"

"It's not what it looks like," I immediately said, making Bennett blush slightly.

"Hmmm," Jordan replied noncommitally.

"I believe you," Declan told me. "But only because a tattoo parlor is a stupid place for a date."

"Why're you here, again?" Declan asked, still burning with anger.

"I came to renew my henna." I didn't expect for Bennett to trick me into getting a full-time tattoo.

"But my dear Naomi, how did you know that it needed renewing? Didn't you say that you wouldn't let anyone lift up your shirt?" Jordan was sporting his signature Jordan grin.

"Just a hunch," I muttered, my face reddening.

Jordan nodded skeptically, but I could tell that he didn't believe me at all. Declan was being Declan and acting as handsomely clueless as ever.

Milo interrupted a very heavy silence by loudly clearing his throat. "So, Naomi, how does it feel now?"

"Not too bad."

"How does what feel?" Declan and Jordan asked together.

"Her new tattoo," said Bennett simply.

"WHAT? She got an actual tattoo? Our poor little Naomi! Bennett, why'd you let her get a tattoo?"

"She said she'd be happy with a tattoo, and I knew if she waited too much longer, she'd never do it, so I decided to surprise her."

"That's just mean, Bent! That's a permanent tattoo we're talking about! This is the kind of decision you aren't supposed to make until your midlife crisis!" Jordan screeched.

"What he said," Declan added.

"Guys, take a chill pill," I soothed. "I'm fine. As angry as I am at Bennett, I'n glad he did it. He was right: if I kept procrastinating, I never would have done it."

Jordan stalked over to me, examining my tattoo. "Nice," he said, grinning. "As much as it appalls me, it's nice."

So much for him not seeing me with my shirt pulled up.

Declan examined it, too. "The fleur-de-lis."

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Bennett's voice.

If you think it was awkward, having three hot guys staring at my back, then you would be right.

Milo harrumphed. "I hate to break up the touching conversation, but I can't have you loitering forever. Besides, I know you'll be back at some point."

Milo covered my tattoo in a bandage and gently pulled my shirt back down over it. He gave me the general tattoo-care-lowdown and then very kindly kicked us out of his store.

"Where do we go now?" Jordan asked as we piled into Bennett's car.

"I know, I'm tired from running all the way over here," Declan complained.

"The one with the healing tattoo gets to ride shotgun," I informed them, before slipping into the seat next to Bennett.

"That still doesn't answer my first question," Jordan pointed out.

"Don't worry, we'll make a decision about ten minutes after we drive past the place we decide on, only to drive back and find out it's closed. Like we always do."

The guys laughed at my sarcasm, but soon the topic turned back to food.

"What do you want?" Bennett asked.

"Pizza."

"Sandwiches."

"Burgers."

He sighed. "Then we have a predicament, don't we?"

And then I saw the road sign. "I know," I said brightly. "Why don't we go to The Mad Hatter? We can see Cameron."

"Cameron?" all three guys echoed.

"That nice waiter guy," I added.

"Ohhh," Jordan said. "The guy with the glasses and the really curly hair?"

"Oh yeah," Bennett says. "Do you want to know the issue? We just passed the exit."

"Called it."

Bennett made a sharp turn at an intersection and I could hear the sound of his tires against the road as they screeched in protest. We pulled into a parking lot and made another sharp U-turn before swerving back onto the highway.

"If one of you changes your mind right now, I swear I will drive this car over the edge of the highway and into the ongoing traffic—"

"Awww... Bennett has a temper today," Jordan cooed.

"Bennett also has a loaded pistol stashed under the dashboard of his car," Bennett growled.

We finally pulled into the right parking lot and parked at the first space we could find. We didn't worry about discretion, considering Bennett was one of the richest teens alive and it wouldn't be much of a problem for him if one of his many, many cars was broken into.

The greeter who opened the door was about to stop and say hi when he saw Bennett. He instantly recognized the tall frame, jet-black hair and pale azure eyes of a Frazier and gulped, letting him pass with an awkward bow.

I saw Bennett's gaze harden, and I knew how much he hated the fortune and fame that had been cast upon his shoulders ever since he was little. It was almost a shame, all of this fortune wasted on someone who doesn't want it.

Oh well.

The restaurant looked just like it did the first time we came: the red-and-white walls, the classic black-and-white tile floors, and the many paintings of scenes from Alice and Wonderland. I couldn't help but grin as we sat ourselves downs at a wooden table with a checkered tablecloth.

A nice looking woman sporting a burgundy apron came over to us, but before we could order anything, Bennett spoke.

"Is Cameron here?"

She nodded.

"Can we have him instead?"

She looked up to glare at the person who was deliberately asking for another server in front of her, seething. "What's your name, kid?"

He smirked. "Bennett. Bennett Frazier."

Immediately, her eyes widened, and she bustled off to go and retrieve Cameron.

We talked while we waited. "I wish I could do that," Jordan whined. "You just do whatever you want because you have fields of money."

Bennett sighed. "You know that I don't like it, Jordan. It's very helpful, sometimes, but you know I'm not some bratty rich kid."

"Bent, you have 'rich' in your name," Declan pointed out.

"It was destiny," Jordan quipped.

"We. Don't. Talk. About. That," Bennett hissed. "My middle name wasn't my decision."

"Okay, Bennett Richard Frazier," Jordan said, with a mocking edge to his voice.

"Bennett Richard Frazier still has a pistol and it's still stashed under the dashboard of his car," Bennett growled.

Jordan was saved from Bennett's wrath by Cameron. He bounced over on the balls of his feet over to our table, his green eyes sparkling behind his glasses and his head of curly brown hair.

"Hey, you guys!" he called. "Long time, no see!"

We smiled, because it was impossible not to smile at the positive energy he radiated. He whipped out a little notepad.

"So, what can I get you guys to drink?"

All of the guys promptly ordered sweet iced tea, but I hesitated. "I want unsweetened tea."

"What?" the guys chorused.

"Unsweetened tea? Naomi, are you crazy?" asked Jordan, giving me an odd look.

"It's healthier and I like it."

"Healthier? Naomi, you aren't fat! You don't need to worry about being healthy," Declan informed me.

"Yeah. Naomi, you're perfect exactly the way you are," Bennett told me. For a second, his ice-colored eyes met my brown Bambi ones, but he looked away, a slight tinge of color rushing to his face.

"Guys! That's very sweet, but I'm not worried about my weight... that much. I just happen to like unsweetened tea."

"Oh."

I turned back to Cameron. "You guys ready to order?" he asked.

I snorted. "Three of us are. One of us can just never decide what he wants to eat."

"Hey," Jordan cut in, a look of mock offense on his face. "I happen to have a very dignified and prestigious palate."

Bennett rolled his eyes. "Well, Jordan, hurry that "dignified and prestigious palate" up and decide, because we're going to order." He skimmed though the menu. "I want a chicken wrap, with the sauce on the side."

Declan nodded. "I want a club. No avocado."

Before I could order, Jordan looked up from the menu. "Don't tell me you're getting a salad, Naomi."

"Worry about your own order," I told him saucily. "I want the Tuscan chicken pizza," I informed Cameron.

We all turned slowly to Jordan.

"You people order too fast," Jordan muttered. "I... um..."

"Just get what you got last time," Declan told him.

"How am I supposed to remember what I got last time? I've slept since then!"

"You got an onion burger," I announced.

"You're getting an onion burger, then," Bennett said, yanking the menu from his hands.

"But—"

"He wants an onion burger," Bennett decided, handing Cameron the menus.

"But—"

"But nothing," Bennett interrupted.

Chuckling to himself, Cameron walked off with the orders. As soon as he left, Jordan glared at us.

"Why'd you get me an onion burger? What if I didn't want a burger?"

Declan sighed. "Jordan, you're the one who said specifically in the car that you wanted a burger."

"But—"

"Guys, stop fighting. Jordan, if you don't like your onion burger, then I'll eat it, and you can have my chicken pizza. And don't tell me that you don't like pizza," I added as he opened his mouth in complaint.

"I still can't get over the fact that you got a tattoo," Jordan said after a while.

"Shhhh," Bennett whispered. "Other people don't need to know about it."

Almost immediately, Cameron was back with the drinks. After handing them out, he told us that the time was going to be about five more minutes.

"I'm going to entertain you until then," he said. He was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought, before grinning.

"I know. I have the funniest story." He smiled. "Okay, so, I have this uncle, right, and he works at a five-star restaurant downtown from here. He told me that the weirdest thing happened at his restaurant the other day."

"We're listening," Bennett said slowly.

"Okay, so this guy walks in with his girlfriend, right, and they sit at their table and just wait for like, fifteen minutes, which is already strange enough. After that, they give up and order, and they order the most expensive stuff on the menu. Well, it gets even crazier, because after, like, two minutes, they decide that nope, they don't want their food, and so the guy marches his girlfriend into the kitchen—the kitchen—and cooks her his own food. He was a friend of my uncle's apparently. Crazy, right?"

By now Jordan and Declan were laughing their heads off, and Bennett had his face in his hands. I just gave Cameron a long look before asking him a question.

"Your uncle wouldn't be Chef James Cooke, would he?" I asked.

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know?"

"Just a lucky guess," I mumbled.

Jordan and Declan were still laughing, but Bennett was far from it. He uncovered his face and gave Cameron a searching look. "So Cooke told you that we—they—were dating?"

Cameron nodded. "Well, actually, he said that they were just friends, but that they should totally be dating, because they were so cute together and he said he could tell that the guy just totally adored her."

If at all humanly possible, Jordan and Declan laughed even harder.

Cameron raised an eyebrow at the pair, who looked like they had tears in their eyes from laughing. "I thought it was funny, but I didn't realize it was that funny."

"CAMERON!" came a bellow from the kitchen, and Cameron dashed off, probably to collect our food.

"Well," Bennett growled as he left. "That was... interesting."

Jordan and Declan finally stopped laughing to look at Bennett, smiling like kindergarteners who had just received praise for their work.

"I can't believe this, Bennett... they were so cute together... he totally adored her... I can't believe this..." Declan cried.

"Bennett has a little crush, doesn't he?" Jordan said, his voice sugary-sweet.

"BENNETT STILL HAS A LOADED PISTOL STASHED BENEATH THE DASHBOARD OF HIS CAR!" Bennett shouted. The people around us gave as dirty looks before turning back to their food.

"Listen," he hissed, much quieter. "I do not have a crush on Naomi, and she does not have a crush on me, you understand? We're just friends."

"Good, because that would be breaking the contract," Jordan reminded him, "and we wouldn't want that."

Bennett's voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible, and I knew that he didn't mean for anyone to hear what he said next.

But I did.

"You don't want me to like Naomi? Then we have a predicament, don't we?"