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“Thanks.”
“For you, sir?” the server asked, looking at Viper.
“The darkest beer on draft,” he said, glancing at me.
“Sure. I’ll need to see your ID, too.”
Viper finally turned his attention to the sever and raised his brows.
“Policy,” the server blurted out. “I know you’re old enough, but I could lose my job if I don’t card everyone.”
“Jesus, Viper, just show him your ID,” I muttered.
Viper pulled out his wallet and complied.
“Thank you. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
I held out my hand across the table, palm side up.
Viper placed his hand on mine.
“Cute,” I said. “But not what I was hoping for.” I wiggled my fingers. “ID.”
“You want to see my ID?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know your age and legal name.”
“Then why don’t you just ask me?”
“And you’ll tell me?”
“Yeah, I’ll tell you.”
“Can I have my hand back now?”
“No. I’m not done with it.”
“Careful, Viper. You’re playing the role of fake boyfriend all too well.”
He grunted.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Rhett Maxwell.”
“Rhett Maxwell,” I repeated. “You don’t look like a Rhett.”
“What do I look like?” he demanded.
“I dunno. Dave, or Sam. Ralph.”
“Ralph? I look like a Ralph?”
I grinned. “Gotcha.”
