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While watching my best friend on a date.
With the most insufferably self-absorbed little twat in all of Fairview and Spruce combined.
My mama didn’t let me down, that’s for sure. She really does know how to pick them. Why on Earth she’d pick Malcolm as an ideal date for Bobby, I have no idea. Is she trying to punish him? Is she trying to punish Patricia and the rest of the Parker family?
Is she trying to punish me?
I watch Bobby laugh at some joke or something. Even the rigid shoulders of Malcolm move with a cool-mannered chuckle.
Not that I can see much, over here in the corner of the room, three rows away and by the wall, like I’m in fucking time-out.
A server passes by one aisle over—it’s some new girl I don’t recognize. I flag her down with a wave of my hand. She spots me at once, then makes her way to my table.
“Hello, sir,” she greets me. “Is there something I can get you?”
She’s a gorgeous blonde with wavy hair that cascades down her breasts, framing a modest slice of cleavage that shows right in between her partly-unbuttoned blouse. She is the stuff of every boy’s dreams, from her pouty lips to her sparkling blue eyes to her curvy, synched hips and the southern twang in her voice.
Ain’t none of that sexiness touching me right now. I jab a fork in the general direction of Bobby and his date. “Hey, you see that couple over there? At that table in the middle of the room?”
She lifts her face and follows where I’m pointing. “Um …”
“Yeah, them right there. The two boys on a date.”
“Oh!” She brings a hand to her mouth and flashes her eyes at me. “They’re a gay couple? Them two boys?”
“Yeah, them two boys.”
“Are you sure?” She takes another peek.
“Yes. Are you listening? Hey.” I swallow my bite finally and nod their way. “You wanna do me a favor?”
“You can’t tell they’re gay.” She studies them from afar while hugging one of those leather-bound check presenters against her chest with someone’s credit card sticking out of the top. “Like, at all. I mean, I’d never have guessed.”
“Okay, well, that’s beside the point. Can you do me a—”
“I mean, they’re both super handsome. Especially the one in the blue button shirt.”
“That’s my best friend Bobby.”
“Ooh!” She gives me a face of two starry, excited eyes. “He is just the cutest! He definitely works out. I mean, look at that cute body of his!”
Jesus, lady, reel it in. “Ma’am, can you do me a favor or not?”
She turns back to me. “What kind of favor?”
“The kind that involves you goin’ over to that table, checking on them, and then dumping water over the other guy’s head and calling it an accident?”
Her lips form a perfect O. Then she lets out a giggly laugh and shakes her head. “A-And why would I do that?”
“Never mind. Listen, can you tell the guy—not Bobby in the blue shirt, but the other one—that his daddy has some emergency and needs him in the kitchen?”
“His daddy?” She blinks and peers back over her shoulder at them, confused.
I study her patiently. “You’re new here, right?”
She stares back at me, eyes wide and defensive. “No.”
“How long’ve you worked here at Nadine’s?”
“One and a half weeks.”
Good Lord in Heaven, give me strength. “Listen. That little shrimp right there in the tiny black shirt is the son of the executive chef.”
After another quick glance at them, a light flickers in her big bright eyes. “Ooh. So, like … are you wantin’ to speak to your best friend, but don’t want the other guy to know …?”
“That’d be the plan.”
“Ooh! Excitin’!” She grimaces. “I don’t know if I can do that, though. I could get in trouble, you know? I’m new here.”
Oh my good God make up your mind. “Sure you can do it. It’ll take you all of two seconds, and it’s easy as pumpkin pie. Or apple pie. Banana cream. Whatever’s an easy pie. Do you know who I am?” I put a hand to my chest. “My mother is who this place is named after. Nadine Strong. It’s how I was able to get a table—” I snap my fingers. “—just like that, without a reservation. I can put in a word for you to the owner of the whole dang shebang, alright? Wouldn’t that be amazing? I just need you to get that fellow away from my best friend for, like, three minutes tops. Pretty please.”
The boys laugh again, drawing our attention. Bobby shakes his head, then says something back to Malcolm, who then lets out one curt little laugh before neatly cutting another bite of his steak.
My stomach twists at the sight of them enjoying themselves.
Bobby, don’t be a fool. Open them eyes your mama gave you.
