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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“So what’s good here?” Jamal, JJ and Cassie had just been seated and were looking at the menu.
“Everything!” Cassie said exuberantly. “I make my own.”
“And what is on your own, exactly?” he asked. “Pepperoni? Mushrooms? Pineapple? Give me something to work with here, Bambi.”
Cassie looked up from her menu and smiled his way. Seeing his daughter sitting with Cassie across the table from him, cuddled into her side and Cassie’s arm around her shoulders did funny things to his heart. It looked totally natural. Like they belonged. Like they were afamily.
“I get hand-tossed with olive oil and garlic glaze, spinach, chicken, roasted red peppers, banana peppers, red onions, mozzarella, parmesan and feta cheese.”
“Dang, girl! Sounds like you get the entire kitchen on a piece of dough,” he said, throwing a wink her way. Cassie stuck her tongue out at him, making him laugh.
“It’s super yummy!” she said. “But eat what you want.”
Jamal tossed his menu on the table. “Sounds good to me. If you say it’s good, I trust you.”
JJ crinkled her nose and looked up at Cassie. “That doesnotsound good to me! I’m getting pepperoni. Hey, daddy-o! They have fried pickles! Can we get some? Please?”
Jamal raised his eyebrows Cassie’s way. “Whaddya say, Bambi? Do you like fried pickles or would you like something of your own?”
Cassie grinned down at his daughter and ruffled her hair. “That’s something webothlike then. I can always eat fried pickles.”
Their waiter walked up to the table to take their order. “What can I get you-” their waiter stopped mid-sentence when he realized who he was serving. “Wow! You’re Jamal Jenkins!”
“I get that a lot, kid,” Jamal said. “But I just look like the guy. Can’t play basketball a lick,” he continued, throwing a wink Cassie’s way.
“Oh, man! I’m sorry. You look just like him,” their waiter said.
“That’s cuz heishim!” JJ said emphatically. “He likes to see if people will believe him or not. He’s a – what’s that word again, dad? The one that means you believe everything?”
“Gullible,” Cassie leaned down and whispered into his daughter’s ear. “But it’s not nice to call people names.”
“Sorry, mister,” JJ said to the kid who looked like he was about a sophomore in high school. His face was breaking out in classic high school style and his hair was spiked all over his head.
“That was a good one, Mr. Jenkins,” the kid said, shrugging his skinny shoulders. “I really am gullible.”
Jamal laughed. “It’s ok, kid. Most people do believe me. How about I make it up to you? Do you want me to sign anything for you?”
The kid’s eyes went wide. “Oh, man! That would be awesome! Let me put in your order and I’ll run out to my car and get my Thunder hat.”
Jamal handed their menus to the kid. “That works for me.” He watched as their waiter made a beeline for the kitchen, no doubt to tell everyone that he was serving Jamal Jenkins.
“Do you ever get tired of all the fame?” Cassie asked. “I could never do it.”
Jamal sighed. “Sometimes. But it goes with the territory. I would be a total jerk if I just ignored everyone. I figure the more open I am to people, the less I get bashed by the media.”
Cassie leaned over the table and grabbed his hand. “You do afantasticjob, Mr. Jenkins. I’m impressed.”
Jamal grinned, intertwining his fingers with hers. “Then that makes it all worth it.”
JJ rolled her eyes. “Jeez, you two. Could you quit flirting for a second? I’m getting grossed out.”
Jamal grabbed his daughter’s hand with his free one. “How’s this, kiddo? Now we have a hand-holding circle at our table. We just need a guitar and a fire pit and we could start singing kumbayah.”
JJ pulled her hand out of her dad’s. “Whatever you do, Cassie, donotlet my dad sing. It isawful!Every time we have a fire in the backyard in our pit, he tries to sing and the neighbor’s dog starts howling. True story.”
“Hey!” Jamal said. “I’m not that bad!”
