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“I see,” I say.
“I’m looking to start my own business now,” he says. “I’ve got a great idea.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, not a drop of interest in my tone.
I catch Willette staring at me from the corner of my eye now, but I don’t look away from Joe. She glances at him and back to me, as if she’s unsure what’s going on.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m going to install custom beds into the back of vans.” Joe says this with confidence. He says it with excitement, like he just invented the fucking wheel.
“Right,” I say. I’m too stunned to say anything else.
“I did it to my own,” he says, proudly. “A buddy of mine wants me to do his now.”
“You have a bed in your vehicle?” I ask. “I mean, I guess that would come in handy if you’re ever homeless, but with an idea like van beds I’m sure you won’t have to worry.”
There’s not a lick of sincerity in my flat tone and Willette can sense it. This guy doesn’t know me very well at all, but she’s been around me long enough to know when I’m giving someone a hard time even if they’re too stupid to realize it. And I don’t take to calling people stupid lightly. But this guy is for sure.
“Let’s not talk about that,” she says, attempting to change the topic.
The conversation between me and Joe seems to have sobered her up a little, though not enough to prevent her from continuing to sway back and forth.
“Joe, be a dear and get me another drink?” she asks sweetly, leaning toward him.
He nods, standing and collecting her empty glass on the way to the bar.
After he walks away, her head snaps back to me. “I know what you’re doing,” she says sternly.
“I’m just talking to your friend.” I shrug.
“You’re picking,” she says. “Stop it.”
“I don’t think you should have any more drinks,” I say. “You’re not going to be able to walk.”
“Well, luckily Joe has a bed in the back of his van, so I don’t have to walk far,” she replies. She gives me a teasing look, though it borders on something else, almost as if she’s issuing a challenge.
What, Will? What do you want from me?
I press my lips into a line at her implication. Surely she isn’t going to sleep with him. The only other conclusion is an attempt at making me jealous. I flip through my memories of her, trying to land on any other time I ever had the impression she was trying to make me jealous or tempt me. Nothing comes to mind. Maybe I’m hallucinating all of this.
Joe returns with her drink, handing it to her as he passes by to sit back in his spot. I should’ve sat there while he was gone. Rookie move on my part.
I finish my drink, making a louder than necessary clinking noise against the table as I set it down.
“You want to get out of here, babe?” Joe asks Will, but she’s not looking at him.
She’s still staring at me, tonguing the rim of her glass, licking the salt from the edge of her margarita. Her eyebrow raises a fraction, likely not noticeable to anyone who isn’t staring at her as hard as I am.
The raised brow is a question, a silent curiosity. I can hear her voice in my head.Well, am I going with him?
“She’s coming home with me,” I say.
Before Joe can protest or stop me, I stand and pull Willette up from her seat, wrapping my arm around her middle to keep her from falling.
“Let’s go,” I say.
She giggles, mumbling something about a knight in shining armor as we exit the bar and turn for home.
I feel good about the statement, like I’m rescuing her. Rescuing her from Joe. That’s what she meant. As I look over at her with an air of confidence that I’m doing the right thing, her face is still beautiful, even if it is too drunk to function.
