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“I like your dimples. You have one in your chin, too. That’s fun.”
I nodded, trying not to laugh. She was messing with me, but that was okay. I could deal with spunky. It meant things would be less awkward than I imagined.
Our small talk went great right up until the server came over while Dessie was telling me about a particularly difficult client she had. Café Chai had a takeout counter, but the tables were manned by waitstaff in wine-colored aprons.
“We’re not ready,” Dessie said, giving her a shooing motion with her hand. “Go.”
The girl, probably sixteen or seventeen, smiled until she realized Dessie was not messing with her.
“Go,” she repeated.
“Okay.” The girl gave an eye roll as she retreated, which Dessie did not miss.
“Did you just roll your eyes?” she asked loudly, turning to raise her eyebrows at me like we were in total solidary on the audacity of the situation. Except there was no solidarity. Heads were turning our way, and Dessie seemed to draw power from the attention we were getting.
When the girl ignored her question and continued to walk off, my greatest fear came to life as Dessie jumped up to follow her.No, please don’t do this, strange date of mine.
“I’d like to speak with your manager,” Dessie demanded, now at the counter. “I have never been treated so rudely in my life.”
“Of course,” the barista at the register said. She and the eye-roller headed to the back, while the line of customers left behind stared at Dessie and waited for things to go back to normal.
After a minute, Dessie tapped the bell on the counter. “How long does it take to get a manager, people?” She gave a passive-aggressive laugh. “Am I right?”
She got a few pained smiles in return before people dropped eye contact. One dude stealthily held up his phone and began recording her.
I rubbed the back of my neck where beads of sweat were beginning to gather. What was my role here? I was neither spectator nor participant, but somewhere in between, like a passenger in a car when the driver decides to cut across oncoming traffic.
A harried-looking woman hurried out and put her hands together, looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry for the wait, what can I do for you?”
Dessie clutched her chest. “My date and I were in the middle of a conversation.” Dessie pointed to me, and fifteen heads turned my way. “Your employee interrupted us, and when I politely asked her for more time, she rolled her eyes at me.”
There was a long silence while the two women stared at each other. We hadn’t ordered yet. There was nothing to comp, and clearly no reason to, since there was a more truthful side to this story, and no doubt, the manager heard it before coming out.
“Well?” Dessie demanded.
I couldn’t sit and watch a fellow business owner apologize for nothing. Or worse, have to back her employee and endure the wrath sure to come. Nope. We were getting out of here without being asked to leave. Both of us.
I jumped up and went to Dessie’s side. “Hey, beautiful. I need some air. It’s such a nice night. Why don’t we ditch this place and go for a stroll?”
Somewhere, someone was backing over an Academy Award with their Land Rover based on my smarmy performance, but Dessie ate it up.
She smiled at me before turning to glare at the manager. “Absolutely. I can’t stand to be in here another minute.” She tucked her purse straps higher on her shoulder and marched out with me hurrying after her once I’d stuffed the last of my cash in their tip jar. “Sorry,” I mouthed.
Once I had her out of the café, I turned and threw everyone a double thumbs up at the door and got a smattering of cheers and whistles in return.
“Good luck with that,” one guy called out.
“Why are they cheering?” Dessie asked, trying to look back in over my shoulder.
I took her hand and coaxed her away, using more persuasive smiles I would stay awake thinking about later tonight. Who was this person who had taken over my body?
“They’re cheering because we chose the high road. The high road being walking out of there and finding somewhere else to be. Making a scene is overrated.” The café was in a small shopping center, and I turned us to the left with no destination in mind except away.
My dad and I used to watch the TV show 24, and that’s what this felt like, living minute to minute with my heart pumping and my mind working in overtime just so no one would die. Yep, that was me—seducing terrorists for the greater good. Kiefer Sutherland, eat your heart out.
We passed an insurance office and a dry-cleaners before we reached a frozen yogurt shop. I picked up my pace, hoping to pass it up. Dessie did not.
She smiled and tugged on my hand. “I love frozen yogurt. It’s so much better than ice cream, don’t you think?”
