Page 33 of Money Shot

Shoe sales are the best thing ever.

“I like your jeans,” I said with a grin. “They’re awesome.”

“My jeans?” he asked in a slightly sarcastic tone. “Why’s that?”

“Because they’re worn out, but I know you wore them out. You didn’t buy them like that. I like worn out jeans,” I said.

“I’ve had these fuckers for years,” he said. “And you’re right. I wore these fuckers out for sure.”

“Well, I like them,” I said.

“Thanks,” he responded as he waved to the waitress.

“I’m sorry, you order at the register,” she said as she walked up to the table.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Never eaten here.”

“Me neither, one of the fellas recommended it,” he said as he pushed his seat away from the table.

We walked side by side to the register, where a six foot tall wooden menu was on display. Quite surprised I didn’t see it or stumble into it on my way inside the restaurant, I chuckled and pointed toward it.

“Probably missed it because it’s so small,” I said with a laugh.

The menu was a good foot taller than I was. Vince laughed and nodded his head as he studied the descriptions painted on the wooden display.

“I’m going to have the pizza and salad deal,” I said after looking over the menu.

“Which pizza?” he asked as he continued to stare at the options.

“The one with artichokes and roasted garlic, sounds good. And I don’t have to worry about kissing anyone, so no worries,” I said.

A man walked in, stepped behind us, and peered over Vince’s shoulder toward the menu. After a glancing over his shoulder a few times, Vince sighed and turned around.

“Something I can help you with, Brother?” Vince asked the man.

“Just looking,” the man said cheerily as he repositioned himself to see over Vince’s shoulder. He stood a mere twelve inches from Vince.

“Why don’t you give my girl and me some space for a minute,” Vince said calmly as he took a step toward the menu.

My girl?

“Ain’t got to be a dick about it,” the man responded under his breath.

Oh shit.

Vince turned around completely, and swept me to his side with his hand as he did so. I watched as he spread his feet shoulder width apart and raised his right hand to half way between his waist and his chest. The dip-shit staring in our direction didn’t seem to notice, but it was apparent Vince was preparing to stomp this guy’s ass.

“Now the last thing I want to do is drag you out in the parking lot and kick the living shit out of you for being disrespectful. If I was alone, I can give you my solemn word you and I wouldn’t be talking right now, I’d just be beating your ass. So, I’m going to need you to apologize to my girl for being a rude prick and breathing on her shoulder, and I’ll let the dick comment slide,” Vince said.

Vince’s right hand quivered as he tightened his jaw and prepared for what was going to be his next move. As I stood and waited for the guy to either tell him to fuck off or apologize, I wished I was a guy and could tell people off from time to time, because sometimes they sure as fuck needed it.

The man stared down at his feet for a moment, glanced toward me, and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for crowding you.”

I smiled and nodded my head. “Apology accepted.”

Vince lowered his hand, turned toward the menu, and inhaled a short breath.

“I’m having the calzone,” he said calmly.