The tattooed server with a shaved head and dangly goddess earrings stops by to drop off menus. “Drinks to get you started?”
Lila doesn’t hesitate. “I’d like a glass of your nicest chard.”
That sounds so much better than the cheap stuff I usually drink. Still, it’s hard for me to spend money. Even tonight, even knowing I promised to buy Lila dinner, that final Sterling paycheck will only go so far. And life has taught me how quickly things can turn bad.
“Do you like chard?” Blackwell looks at me.
Before I can say anything, Lila answers on my behalf. “She does, even if she won’t say so.”
“In that case, let’s make it a bottle.”
I’m speechless. I know what he usually orders, and this definitely isn’t it.
A few minutes later, our drinks are delivered, and we all agree on an extra-large pepperoni pizza. I’ve never seen him eat anything with that many carbs.
Once he’s poured us each a glass, he leans back, elbows draped wide like he’s somehow both a king and a street punk in the same breath.
I cross my legs, suddenly hyperaware of how many hours we’ve been moving and packing and sweating in the Houston heat. The day has blurred in my head. How many hours has it been? Eight? Ten? More? I know I’m exhausted, but part of me is wound tight, unable to relax with him here.
I catch a glimpse of a side of him I’ve never seen before. Casual charm. Easygoing banter with us and the server. Who is this man?
After finishing her first glass, Lila pours herself another one, takes a sip, then levels him with a stare that could flay him alive. I feel it coming before she even opens her mouth.
“Lila, don’t,” I murmur. My fingers twist around the stem of my glass. “Please, just?—”
“No.” She cuts me off. “He needs to hear it.”
Blackwell seems unruffled. “Let her, Seraphina. Whatever she’s got to say, let her get it off her chest.”
Lila points her wine glass at him like a dagger. “You fired her for doing the right thing. For not lying. For not rolling over when you wanted to impress your precious shareholders.”
He takes the words in stride, not arguing, not pushing back.
Consideringly he takes a sip. Then he angles his glass to me. Though he’s answering her, he’s looking at me, unflinchingly, never looking away. “Then I’m doubly glad I have a chance to make things right.”
Lila blinks. Around us, the cicadas hum, music blares from the jukebox, and a group of men at the next table laughs.
Somehow, impossibly, we end up having a good time. Lila’s barbs lose their edge, and Blackwell adds an occasional quip that makes my pulse do terrible, traitorous things.
When the check comes, he slides his card across the table before I can open my purse. “Really. There’s no need.” While we ate, I performed the calculations in my head. We shared the wine, so that was a savings over individual drinks. And pizza was about the cheapest thing on the menu. And I remembered that my rent payment won’t draft from my account on the first. So while things are still tight, they’re not as dire. “I promised Lila. And you helped too.”
“Save your breath, Ms. Hollis.”
His tone is uncompromising.
Back in the SUV, there is silence, and it’s an easy one, surprisingly. Or maybe not so surprisingly. Lila said what she wanted to, and we had a good fun meal after a long, hot day.
When we get to my building’s garage, he exits first, then extends a hand toward Lila like she’s royalty.
“Don’t think this means I like you, Blackheart.”
“Wouldn’t think anything of the kind.”
When I’m standing next to them, Lila hugs me hard. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Really, I think you could.” She shoots me a wicked grin.
“The love? The emotional support? Organizing things? You were a lifesaver. I can’t thank you enough.”
