“Fine. ‘Enter Sandman.’ Metallica.”
“Also no.”
Lex growled. She shook her cup, half her beverage spilling on her shoes. “Dad! You’re being ridiculous! How about ‘War Pigs’? Black Sabbath.”
“Alexis.No.”
Ginny stood up. “‘Butter,’” she said, “BTS.”
Lex exhaled loudly through her nose. “My one weakness. Fine. But I get all the good parts.”
“Yep, I remember the karaoke rules.” Ginny winked at Shepherd. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I got it handled.”
His brain spasmed. He knocked his water all over the table, droplets raining on his lap. He stood up to raucous laughter and applause from Mr. Martin.
“See, what did I tell you?” Mr. Martin asked Deandra, a shit-eating grin reddening his cheeks. “They’re in love.”
Noah brought over a fistful of napkins. Shepherd wiped his pants dry with a glare at anyone who dared look his way. Ginny and Lex were singing some annoying pop song that Shepherd only understood every other word of.
Mr. Martin stood up. “Do you dance, Deandra?” He offered her his hand.
She raised a red eyebrow. “To this?”
Ginny and Lex were bumping hips as they sang.
She took his hand. Her lips twisted to one side. “I suppose I’ll try. I’m nothing if not a good sport.”
Customers started to stream in again, bringing in blasts of humid air every time, though Shepherd couldn’t hear the bell above the door with his fake girlfriend and his real daughter singing K-pop at an incredible decibel level.
Ginny was too much work. Too annoying. Too loud and too friendly and too pretty and too smart. What was he thinking, agreeing to be her fake boyfriend? They didn’t make sense as a real couple, much less as a fake one. Sure, hisemployees made stuff up to get his goat. Heart-eyes and so forth. And Mr. Martin, he was in on it with them, teasing him about feelings and things that weren’t there. Shepherd didn’t have feelings, except for feeling upset or frustrated or anxious. A lot of anxiety all the time, and where was that weird kid? With the snake?
Gonna put him in the kitchen. Let Max and Chris deal with him. Kids like making pizza anyway, right? Stick him in there where the customers won’t see him.
Shepherd tossed the damp napkins on the table and greeted the new customers with a “Take a seat anywhere. Signups for karaoke are over by the machine.”
He pointed at the machine just as Ginny hit a particularly high note. He bit back a laugh. She was a good singer, even if she was doing it badly for the sake of his daughter. She caught him staring and blew him a kiss. He felt it. Somehow. Like a moron. Felt the kiss hit him upside his head. Damn this and damn her. He wasnotin love with Ginny.
He didn’t love anyone but himself and Lex. His wife had known that about him, had left him because of it. He was too guarded, too self-aware.
Not scared, of course. Never scared. He didn’t get scared. He got anxious, and then he made plans, and then memorized the plans and the anxiety went away. That’s not something a scared guy did. That’s something a man did. A manly man. A man of action and … plans. A planly man.
Shepherd pinched his nose and furrowed his brow, exhausted with himself. First things first, find the boy child and stick him in the kitchen. Then he needed to get Deandra and Mr. Martin the hell out of his restaurant.
Things would go back to normal as soon as they were gone.
FIVE
Ginny hopped off stage to do her job as the dinner rush started trickling in. Mr. Martin whispered in Deandra’s ear, and she nodded, smiling. She grabbed Ginny by the arm as she attempted to dart past.
Shepherd rolled his eyes and manned the hostess table for her. He grabbed a stack of menus and shuffled through them like trading cards. The plastic lamination was sticky on more than one; he set those aside for Ginny to wipe down later. Taking the two cleanest menus of the bunch, he looked up to locate who he’d seat first.
A mistake. Because Mr. Martin and Deandra were walking out of the restaurant, Martin’s hand on her ass.
What a day for twenty-twenty vision.
“See you tomorrow,” Mr. Martin said.
Which was a weird thing for the landlord to say after picking up the rent.
