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“No. This is my sister’s thing, not mine.”
“Oh. I just thought you might invite some of your business acquaintances. Or your partner.”
“My partner lives in La Jolla. I just saw him yesterday. But I keep all that separate from my personal life. I don’t shit where I eat.”
“That’s smart, I suppose.”
La Jolla. Okay. I have a location. That’s a solid start.
“You want seconds?” Ben asks, nodding at my empty plate.
“No, thanks.”
He starts to stand up, pushing his chair back with slight difficulty since we’re so close to the ground. The both of us laugh softly and I see, from the corner of my eye, a tall figure walk past. He pauses, backtracks.
“Why is she sitting at Ethan’s table?” he growls in a way that only an angry teenage boy can.
Our heads jerk in his direction and even the couple sitting on the couch look his way for a second. Jesus. He looks just like a teenage version of Ben.
“Hey, buddy. We’re just grabbing a bite to eat.”
“That table is for family only.” His gaze is a knife, stabbing me with more pissed off energy any boy should ever feel.
Ben lets out a sigh that sounds a whole lot like he’s heard this before. “There weren’t any other places to sit, Danny. We’re almost done.”
“You could have sat there, or there, or hell, even over there.” Danny points at multiple places in the room: the couch next to the couple, an empty chair, the coffee table.
“It’s fine. I’m done anyway.” I push up from my seat, look at Danny. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was for family only. It won’t happen again.”
His glare follows me as I walk to the kitchen and find the trash can. I hear Ben lecture him in a stern voice but I can’t hear what he’s saying. Frenchie, Don Juan, and the other guests are sitting at a long table to my right. Frenchie is now sipping clear fluid from a glass, cackling about something.
“Sorry about that.” His hand presses into my lower back as he speaks in a low voice.
“No worries. I’m sure it’s been tough for him.” I glance behind Ben to be sure Danny isn’t nearby.
He pulls a face, something like guilt mixed with sympathy. “He’s sixteen. And he doesn’t have a dad so he gets a little mouthy here and there.”
“I get it.”
His eyes float to my lips. “You want another beer?”
I shake my head.
“Walk on the beach?”
“Sure.”
We say our goodbyes. Frenchie doesn’t get up from the table but Ben walks to her, leans down, kisses the top of her head. She reaches behind her and hugs his neck.
“I’ll be back later tonight.”
“Yeah,” she snorts. “I won’t wait up. Have fun you two. Be safe.”
“Thanks so much for the food. It was nice meeting you all.”
“You’re welcome here anytime,” Don Juan says. I still don’t know if that’s his real name.
Frenchie has pulled Ben close and is whispering something in his ear. He tells her to fuck off and she giggles uncontrollably. I’ve no idea what that’s all about and frankly, I don’t want to know. This is just the push to get closer to him. Or rather, get closer to King.
