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“He would have easy access to your mailbox and phone number,” Samantha says.
“True,” I mutter. “I bet Etienne pointed him out to Marcus already.”
“They’re typing,” Samantha cries softly, bouncing with excitement.
“Can you see anyone on their phone?” I ask Fawn.
“No,” she says, practically climbing over the top of the booth.
“‘Who is this?’” Samantha reads the text to us. “I’ll answer, ‘Luke from the 19th Hole.’”
Fawn and I continue to search the room from our inconvenient vantage point.
“I can’t see anything from here,” I grumble. “Someone needs to walk around.”
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Samantha says protectively.
“Trust me,” I tell her, nodding in the bar’s direction. “I’m not allowed to leave the booth.”
“He’s texting again,” Samantha says, and I turn to see her anxiously staring at her screen before reading what pops up on the screen. “‘Wrong number,’ exclamation point.”
“You’re a man,” Fawn says. “Don’t let that deter you.”
“Brittney is obviously playing hard to get,” I concur, rolling my eyes. I glance at the bar. “Maybe I should ask Etienne to help us. He could look from where he is.”
“Won’t you get in trouble?" Fawn asks, glancing at the two men at the bar.
“I’ll get in more trouble for not asking for his help,” I tell them, and Samantha nods in understanding. “I’ll just ask him to look around.”
“It’s your behind,” Fawn says, smiling.
“I think it’s a good plan,” Samantha says confidently. “But what should we text next?”
Fawn giggles. “‘I asked my doctor, fish can’t give you herpes.’ Then use the thumbs-up emoji.”
“What?” I ask, joining in with her laughter.
“Fish have herpes, but there have been no known cases where they’ve transferred it to humans,” Fawn informs us.
“That’s good to know.” Samantha snorts with amusement.
“All right, get ready, Sam, and I’ll call Etienne.”
Samantha nods, and I watch as her thumbs tap out the message. I reach across the table, grab my phone, unlock it, and find Etienne in my favorites.
Sam looks up and says excitedly, “All set.”
Fawn wraps her hand around her mug, takes a sip, and looks at me with anticipation as I call Etienne. It doesn’t take long before he’s answering my call.
Yes, baby.
“Daddy, I need your help,” I say as sweetly as possible, making the girls snort with laughter.
I’ll be right there.
“No!” I exclaim. “I need you to look around the bar and tell me if anyone is texting. I can’t see anything from over here.”
Why?
