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“No shitting,” Kathy says. “Well, probably some shitting—I’m human last time I checked. Also some drinking, which can lead to shitting…”
I laugh loudly, my mood instantly lifted.
Deklan is going to be gone for two days, so the timing is perfect. I mean, what the hell else am I going to do around the apartment?
“Are you going to stay with me?”
“The clinic is putting me up at a hotel,” Kathy says. “I figured you could stay with me! That way we can be plastered and hung over together.”
“What time does your flight land?”
“Ten thirty,” Kathy says, “but there is all that taxiing around on the runways, collecting baggage and crap. There’s an Asian fusion sort of place about a half mile from the airport. It’ll be faster for me to just take a cab and meet you there for lunch about 11:30.”
“That works perfectly! I can’t wait!”
I feel a bit like jumping up and down as I forget all about going to the coffee shop, turn on my heel, and practically run back to the apartment. Once inside, I race to the bathroom and get myself a shower. I feel a little sad that I won’t smell like Deklan the whole time he’s gone, but it’s probably not a scent Kathy would appreciate as much as I do. I scrub down and gather up my overnight bag.
It’s way too early to go, but I have nothing else to do, so I decide to head to the restaurant now. I grab the keys Deklan left on the counter and head to the parking garage. I’ve only driven Deklan’s car once, but it’s easy to drive. I just have to be careful not to speed.
I jump in the car and make my way to the fusion place. They have a coffee bar and a bunch of noodle dishes, including noodles wrapped in a tortilla. There’s a hostess near the door, but instead of leading me to one of the empty tables, she just hands me a menu.
“When you’ve made your selection, you can order right over there!” She points to a row of cash registers.
Apparently, I need to order and pay up front. I’m not completely sure how my food is going to find me, but the cashier gives me a little blinking box that will alert them to where I’ve chosen to sit. I feel completely lost and c
onfused, but I follow directions and find an empty table to sit and wait for Kathy.
As I wait, I look around at the décor and the clientele. Many of the patrons have luggage with them, so this must be a popular place to pick people up from the airport. As I glance around, I see a familiar face, newspaper and all.
I glare down at the top of the table. I’m really not surprised. Deklan probably plans to have me followed all weekend.
“Fuck it,” I mumble. I refuse to let Dek’s paranoia ruin my weekend. If it comes down to it, Kathy and I can hit a dance club, and I’ll ask the guy to dance.
Thinking about what my stalker’s face would look like if I extended that sort of invitation amuses me, and I lean back in the booth with a self-satisfied smirk, waiting for my friend.
Chapter 19
“I’ve fucking had it!” Kathy throws her arms in the air and starts in before she even says hello.
Ranting is actually my favorite thing about Kathy. Once she gets going, there is no stopping her. It doesn’t matter what the topic might be though I’ve never heard her go on about politics. But she’ll rant about everything else, from the organization of the fruit in the produce section at the supermarket to the amount of space someone leaves between their parked car and a stop sign.
Today’s rant: tipping.
“With what?” I stand up briefly to give her a welcoming hug before I sit back down and sip at my coffee, trying to hide my smile. To an outside observer, it might appear that Kathy is about to strangle the most convenient person available, but I know she’s harmless.
Mostly.
“What the hell is up with tipping anyway?”
“Tipping? What about it?”
“It’s out of control.” Kathy shoves her carry-on luggage against the side of the table, tosses her purse and coat in the booth, and then slides in next to the pile.
We haven’t seen each other for over a year, but that has never mattered with us. As soon as we are together again, it’s as if we had spent the last few days in each other’s constant company. It’s just how we are, and there is no need for pleasant “How are you?” or “Great to see you again” jabber.
“We are never coming here again.” Kathy places her elbows on the table and reaches toward me with her pinky finger extended. I grasp it with mine though I have no idea why we’re pinky-swearing over a restaurant.
“Why not?”
