“Ugh!” He dropped back into his chair. “Of course you can’t handle me, no one can handle me.”
“Including yourself, Ash,” I said.
Standing, I pulled my wallet out of my pocket and pulled out two twenties. “That should cover my food and a generous tip. I mean, thanks for the restaurant rec, but I’ve got to come back when not everyone in here wants to take your head off with a meat cleaver.” I turned and headed for the door.
“Why on Earth would they want to do that?” he gasped, indignant.
I turned back. “Because you’re loud. You’re annoying. You’re pissing everyone else off with your free lunch show, when all they want is soup and salad in peace! Grow the hell up and stop acting a fool.”
“I’m gay, this is just the way—”
Slamming my hands on the table, I leaned in and backed him down. “I’m gay, too, and you don’t see me pissing off everyone else in the place. It’s not your sexuality, Ashton. It’s your rotten, narcissistic attitude. Grow. Up.”
“Uh!” Ashton rolled his eyes. “I guess all you were was a hot ass.”
I couldn’t stop myself.
I turned, slapped my ass and stared right at him. “Honey, this is the hottest ass you arenevergoing to tap. Say goodbye and give it a kiss.”
Heading for the door, I realized everyone in the restaurant, including the waitstaff and two sous chefs peeking out from the back, was clapping. Stopping at the door, I let my inner actor out, and took a bow.
The isolation of my soundproof office was everything I needed when I finally got there. I’d stopped for a six pack of beer on the way there, because I sure as hell was going to need it that night.
Sorcha, however, was standing at her door as I walked by. “How’d it go?”
I held up the six pack of Brooklyn Brown Ale.
“Oh, shit, that good or that bad?”
“Bad. Terrible? No, let’s go with horrific.”
“I’m sorry, man,” she said.
“Yeah, me too. I’m just gonna work on my assignments for the day and go to the office supply tonight for my fun stuff. That’ll help. And then I’ll go home and drink a few a beers with the best Chinese I’ve ever had.”
She agreed, “That’s a plan.”
Charlene:DATE. Need info, pronto, lil bro!
Christy-Anne: DATE!?
Daaaad: It’s June third.
Moooom: Martin! Quit it. Your son had a date.
Daaaad: Date!
Marcus: You are all intolerable and embarrassing.
Christy-Anne: Embarrassed? It’s a group text and I used to give you wedgies in person. Spill it, M.
Marcus:It was horrible. I’m glad he works for a client and not in house.
Charlene: Was he cute?
Marcus: I wouldn’t have agreed to go with him if I didn’t find him attractive, but OMG. I’m shocked the tablecloth didn’t catch fire.
Charlene: Get lucky?
