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“What?”
“Not you, Zee. Benny, go to the bathroom.” She was the only one who could get away with calling me that. Knowing each other for more than twenty years brought up this kind of issue. Not that I’d complain. We were way past that point.
I motioned to get up. “Wait. Not yet.” She waited until the young man was close enough to throw a napkin at my face. “You jerk. I can’t believe you’d bring up Sharon on our anniversary.”
“Sheryl,” Danny and Zach said in unison.
I got up from the table to be faced with the guy’s disapproving eyes on me. I walked away, heading to the men’s bathroom and also taking the least obvious route—right by the Train’s table.
As I approached, I noticed Mia was right. The woman, who looked barely over eighteen, was visibly skittish. As she tried to pull the hem of her short dress down her legs, the Train had a possessive hand over her leg, his hand clamping so hard, his fingertips were white. She’d be a beautiful woman if she didn’t look so terrified. The young woman didn’t want to be there.
And it wasn’t hard to figure out why when both men were touching her—legs, arms, and neck—as if they had the right to, while she trembled.
I understood Mia’s urge to intervene in these kinds of situations. But Zach was right, it wasn’t the time, because there was a lot at stake. That sucked. I didn’t hear anything of interest as I passed them, which was a good thing, as Mia was about to make the waiter our informant, and I could hear her in the device inside my ear.
“Can you believe this? Talking about another woman during our anniversary.”
“Did you enjoy your food, Madam?” He tried to stay professional.
“What’s your name?”
“Uhm, Robert.”
“Can I call you Bob?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Bob, are you married?”
“I have...a girlfriend.”
“I hope you treat her well. You look like a respectful man. I can sense you’re good to her.” A compliment goes a long way.
“Well, I think I do. We need to take care of women, and I do that.” Already less wary.
“Good for you. I bet you’re a catch. Look at me, I’m envying your girlfriend already.” Reeling him in.
“I’m very good to her. You should be with someone good for you, too.”
“Is that a proposition?” Her voice became flirtatious.
“We could come to a satisfying agreement.” Jerk.
“I think we could. I deserve to be cherished. I mean, look at that table in the corner, with the young lady in the silver dress. It’s clear to me that the man worships her and gives her everything, what with her expensive dress and jewelry.”
As if conspiring, his voice became lower. “I don’t think she’s happy to be here. I’m not even sure she’s even his girlfriend.”
“Really? He keeps touching her and whispering.”
“She’s not happy with the touching, and he’s not whispering love words. He’s just talking to the other guy about business, horses, breeding, and stuff.” Bingo.
“The poor girl.” Her voice betrayed her acting, showing she was worried about the anonymous woman. After a pause, she resumed. “That’s weird. He doesn’t seem to be the kind of guy who deals with horses. I’m having a hard time imagining him covered in manure.”
Bob laughed. “No, he doesn’t. I don’t know who he is, but the other man, the one he’s with, is a big shot. He owns a chain of stud farms on this side of the country.”
“You don’t say.”
His voice became even quieter, and I could imagine him getting strategically closer to her. “The word on the streets is that he’s money laundering.”
She gasped. “From what?”
“Maybe we should go to a more private place to discuss this.” Annnd time to go back.
