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“No,” Heidi said. “You know how rumors go. They sprout legs and discover lives of their own. That’s the way it is. Anyone associated with me is subject to being rolled through the grist mill.”
If Heidi thought that was supposed to frighten Carine, she’d obviously never showed up at a predominantly evangelical-populated school with a visible hickey just above where her cleavage ended. Carine had. Twice. She hadn’t bothered covering them up because, on both occasions, she simply didn’t realize they were there. Her bathroom mirror had been mounted too high for her to see them. The ensuing mockery incidents solidified her decision to make her senior yearbook quote“Something to talk about.”
It was clear as day that Heidi was trying to avoid being that. Tim could probably steer his boat in the gap between them. So as Heidi leaned back to allow Myron to place the oversized menu, Carine scooted her chair closer.
“You want to share a bottle?” she asked before Heidi could notice the change.
“Depends on what time you need to get up, I suppose. Think you’re going to get much sleep tonight?”
“You tell me.”
Myron looked from Carine to Heidi to Carine and back again with the messy-bitch interest he was renowned for.
Go run and tell, Myron. I dare you.
Heidi gave Carine her standard dominatrixwatch-itstare, and then resumed her scanning of the wine list.
Carine tilted her head sideward, satisfied that Heidi could see the defiant angle in her periphery.
“Maybe something lower in sulfites,” Carine said. “Can take home whatever’s left. You’ve got room in the chiller, right, Heidi?”
Once more, Heidi stared at her. “I can make room.”
“I figured you might be able to. I thought I saw some gaps the last time I was over.” Carine pointed to a moderately-priced dry white that paired well with fish and other aromatic things. “This one.”
Heidi handed the wine menu back to Myron. “That’s what she wants.”
“So…the bottle?” Myron’s focus ping-ponged between the two of them again.
“The bottle,” Heidi said. “If you know who I am, you know I’m good for it.”
“Right, right, of course. I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t… Heh. Never mind that.” Myron tucked the wine list under his arm and rocked back on his heels. “Would you like to hear the specials, or…”
“Are you usually a little better at your job?” Heidi asked.
There’d been no heat in her tone. Her expression was serene, and her posture was regal.
And she was being careful not to look at him.
Carine pinched her lips together tightly and turned her face away from Myron. He may as well have opened a hellmouth in front of Heidi. The result would have been the same. He was about to learn a lesson and probably wouldn’t even know why he felt so out of sorts when he got home.
Twining her fingers atop the dinner menu, Heidi looked at him then and waited until his gaze met hers. “Are you better at your job than this?”
“I didn’t think I was that bad,” he said.
“I think you were a little too familiar when you came over here. That’s what I think.”
“It’s just that I—”
“That you what? Thought you’d have an easy table because Carine comes here often? That is what you thought when you should have been thinking you should elevate your quality of service for a frequent patron. Can I tell you something? I would like to tell you something.”
Myron probably hadn’t even noticed that he’d been edging closer to Heidi. Her volume had been getting softer and softer, so he’d strained to understand. He was so close to the table, in the small gap between Carine and Heidi’s chairs, that Carine could hear his digestive sounds.
Whatever Heidi told him next, Carine couldn’t hear. He’d bent for Heidi to whisper it, and when he stood with his gaze distant and stance wobbly, he idly murmured, “Yes, I’m sorry,” then shuffled inelegantly into the kitchen.
“You shouldn’t dom people in public, Heidi,” Carine said when the kitchen doors had stopped swinging. “He’s just a little boy.”
“He’s twenty-four years old. His mother was a year behind me. She was pregnant with him when I graduated. If he’s old enough to walk around in public with his balls stuck to his forehead, he’s old enough to get them smacked off.”
