“I got cha,” he said and left us having no idea what we’d ordered. Another Chicago way.
“Who’s comin’?” I asked.
“Just a few people I’ve met,” Dash explained. “I invited them casually. I doubt they’ll come.”
“Well, you’re mistaken then.” A female voice drew both our attention as I draped my arm over the ledge behind Dash. Without hesitation, she dropped down in the booth, scooting toward me, a guy trailing her. “Pierce is on his way.” She regarded me with direct curiosity in that particular way lawyers had at looking at something. “I’m Mandy.” She extended her hand for a formal handshake. I hadn’t expected that but obliged. “This is my husband, Denver.” I understood his acknowledgement way better when I received a nod.
“This is my guy, Beau,” Dash stated proudly.
“Thank God you’re here,” Mandy said with flair while looking at me. “We thought he was insane with the way he talked about you all of the time.”
“We’ve all heard the story of how you met,” Denver added, lifting a hand to gain the bartender’s attention. “We got trapped one night at your condo, hearing about all the years he waited on you.” Denver turned a playful stare at Mandy. “I’d’ve movedon, for sure.” She knocked him in the chest with the back of her hand.
Well, this was news to me. Since Dash had me on call most evenings and into the night, he never mentioned having friends over or that he wasn’t right there with me all night. I tilted my chin toward Dash, but didn’t get much of a reply. My guy was on his way to a solid drunk. “They came over a couple of times. Always late. Study sessions.”
“That turned into quite the party,” Mandy added. “Dash knows how to have a good time. We played guess the name of the song and indulged ourselves into oblivion.” Something caught her attention as she spoke and never missed a conversational beat as she added, “Hey, Jay, we’re here. The group’s together again.” Their confidence levels were insane. Jay ordered a drink at the bar then took the seat next to Dash.
“Hey, buddy. I’m Jay. I’m glad you’re here.” Jay’s hand also came across the table, forcing my arm from around Dash to shake his. “Beau, right? We’ve all heard about you. Maybe our team lead can focus now.”
“Ha ha,” Dash responded, sitting up a little straighter. “I’m already carrying you all.”
“Grey Goose and tonic, extra lime?” a new waitress asked at the head of the table.
“That’s mine,” Mandy said. She waggled her fingers to get her drink.
The waitress passed that over and set Denver’s drink in front of him. “Goose Island for you. The volume on the game is going up.”
As if she had mind control, the TV’s volume increased, and the game began. Less than minutes later, our pizza was delivered to the table. After athank you, I pretty much didn’t say another word for the evening. I attempted to keep up with their discussions; they were incredibly intellectual, and so far out ofmy intelligence league. The needling poking around my head wanted me to worry, and I would. Though, maybe not. Dash needed this regardless of how well I fit into his crowd.
I was damned good at silence, which I planned to be, all of the time.
10: The Taste
Dash
July 3rd, 2006
Grant Park, Chicago
My belly was rarely ever full, but today it was after a fun afternoon at the Taste of Chicago. We sampled many different cuisines from the area, and listened to several local live bands perform. I was certain this was the best day I’d had since arriving in Illinois. So much so, I said the words aloud, taking tastes of the gelato from both my mini cup and Beau’s.
“You gotta taste this.” I wanted Beau to try them all too. Today, my official birthday celebration day, meant that saying no wasn’t an option for Beau. I lifted my tiny spoon to his lips, waiting for him to take the bite. When he did, I said, “Best day since we moved here.”
“You say that every day,” Beau said, eyeing my gelato. “That’s good. Better than mine. Let me get one.”
I didn’t get a say or even an acknowledgement, Beau simply walked away, returning to the booth we had just visited. We’d been lucky all day. Besides the beautiful, warm weather with not a cloud in the sky, we never experienced more than a handful of people in any restaurant vendor’s line. Watching him leave wasn’t the hardship I pretended it to be. I couldn’t help but admire his ass in the cargo shorts he wore.
He effortlessly pulled off the casual yet cool vibe, better than anyone I’d ever seen before. He wore sandals, and a T-shirt, with a backward ball cap, hiding much of his growing out hair, anda pair of aviator sunglasses to block the bright sun. The stud earrings added to his mystique. All the clothes I’d secretly added into his side of the closet before the situation with my family had gone down.
Honestly, screw the legal field, I should have been a stylist with how completely I nailed Beau’s clothing to his personality. I gave myself a nod while taking credit for Beau’s beauty.
What about beauty for his nickname? Nah, he’d cancel that in less than a second.
“Is the gelato food like an ice cream or is it ice, like ice?” Linda asked, coming to my side, curiously glancing in my cup. I was reminded of the melting treat in my hand after being lost in how defined Beau’s thighs and calves were.
“Mom, you want one?” Beau called out.
She shook her head, “I’m stuffed.”
