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18. Homewrecker

18

Homewrecker

“I texted Luke to join us when he’s done,” Wanda says as she slides into a booth at Elm Dogs.

Like Queen Clarisse Renaldi of Genovia, I make it a point never to slide but I make an exception here. Booths are one of those unknowns. Their tables might be bolted to the floor, making it difficult to get in or out of. Or the table might push into one’s belly creating a tabletop muffin top. Or the table does move and moving it makes a noise so sitting down becomes this awkward spectacle.

But Elm Dogs has the perfect booths because whoever installed them cared less about fitting in one extra table and more about spacious, comfortable seating for all shapes, sizes, and abilities with tables that aren’t stuck to the ground or walls.

Wanda’s thumbs fly across her phone’s screen. She smiles when she hits send.

“Who are you texting?” I ask.

“No one.” Wanda types out another message, smiling.

“Is it chickn_backflip?” I ask. Wanda doesn’t answer so I keep talking. “C’mon. What’s going on? You can tell me.”

“I could but I won’t. It’s none of your business,” Wanda answers. “He’s a guy I’m getting to know and I don’t want to talk anymore about it.”

Before I can ask more questions, Wanda waves over to the cash. Mr. Papadopoulos, the owner, holds back our server and comes over to our table himself.

“Bobby, my favorite customer!” He grips my face with both hands and plants a kiss on each of my cheeks.

“I beg pardon?” I say. “Since when?”

People from other tables are staring. That’s when I notice Luke standing near the entrance watching me get kissed.

“Since my son dumped his girlfriend because of you.”

I look around nervously. Luke isn’t coming any closer.

“Mr. Papadopoulos, I’m not even sure I know your son. I don’t go around breaking guys up with their girlfriends.”

“He tells me, he meets this sweet, smart gay boy at Corner Books. I knew he was talking about you. Next thing, he’s breaking up with his girlfriend. You’ve changed the direction of my son’s life.”

I slink down in the booth. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The book you recommended,” Mr. Papadopoulos says. “He reads it and realizes how awful his lousy girlfriend is. Now he’s left her and is going back to college. From now on, you eat here free. Maria, get the Book Whisperer the Coney Island dog and fries on the house.” Mr. Papadopoulos claps a hand onto my shoulder. I sink a little more. “You put him back on the right path. Our family owes you a debt of gratitude.”

As Mr. Papadopoulos clears off and diners return to their meals, Luke slides into the booth beside Wanda.

He grins at me, holding back a laugh. “Wow, Casanova. Homewrecking now?”

“I don’t even remember his son or the book I sold him,” I admit. “We’ve had so many customers recently.”

“Free food is free food,” Wanda says.

Luke reaches over me to grab a menu from the holder behind the condiment squeeze bottles and I smell his scent.

“Sorry it took me so long to get here. Evie was inviting me to some party next weekend. It’s going to be in the field behind the AC,” Luke says.

“Athletic Center,” Wanda translates for me.

“They have firepits and there’s supposed to be a marshmallow roast. My roommates and I are going to go. You should come too. Starts after sundown.”

Wanda says, “Next weekend? We’ll …”

“See,” I finish, kicking Wanda under the table so she knows to stop.

Luke says, “I’m going to the bathroom. If the server comes back order me the New York–style turkey dog.”

Once Luke leaves, Wanda asks, “Why did you stop me from saying it was your birthday?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“But you love your birthday.”

That’s true. Normally, I plan an entire day of rom-com movies and snacks. Both the really trashy kind you don’t normally consume because they’re pure garbage. As kids, Wanda and I inevitably threw up before cake was even served and the movies had finished. “I’ve had enough of being the center of attention lately. I don’t need our first real college party turning into my birthday party. I’d rather keep it on the down-low.”

“Are you maturing in your ripe old age?” Wanda’s phone goes off. She smiles as she texts back.

“At least tell me if you like what you’re getting to know,” I say.

Wanda keeps texting and smiling. “I wouldn’t be spending time getting to know him if I didn’t like what I was discovering. I’m not that girl. But I’m asking you seriously to leave it alone, Bobby.”

“Leave what alone?”

“You know what. I don’t want you asking me a lot of questions and I especially don’t want you interfering. This is my business. I’ll handle it how I want. Got it?”

Whenever Wanda’s had a secret in the past, I’m the first person she’s told. Whatever’s going on with this guy must be pretty serious. While I want to be the type of friend who is supportive of his bestie’s personal growth and boundaries, no one knows more about love than I. Who just finished getting thanked for improving a total stranger’s life? Why even have a gay best friend? Wanda’s not wanting my help is borderline insulting.

“I want you to promise to stay out of this and let me handle things however I decide best,” Wanda says, staring me down.

“A promise made under duress doesn’t stand in a court of law.”

“Promise,” she says again.

“Tell me a little more about him and I’ll promise. Is it serious?”

“It’s serious enough I need you to promise. Promise, Bobby.”

I’m about to concede when Luke returns, and our server arrives with the biggest order of loaded fries I’ve ever seen.

Mr. Papadopoulos comes to our booth again. “You are truly a godsend.” He begins clapping and the other diners in the restaurant join in.

I sink down in the booth again. They only stop when I give a little wave.

Wanda doesn’t clap. She purses her lips and continues to give me the stare.

I’ll let Wanda handle things herself like she asked. For now, anyway. But if it comes to the point where she needs a godsend, I at least won’t have to break a promise to be hers. If I can add Cass and Andy to my list, I can just as easily add Wanda and chickn_backflip.