Chapter 8 Jackson
eight
Jackson
“I think that’s her.” I gesture toward the lady wearing a red-feather hat in the back booth. She’s an elegant woman, sitting tall with her shoulders back and conversing with a group of friends.
I arch my neck, doing a double take to make sure, and my stomach churns.
A rich, smoky aroma with hints of spices and tangy undertones invite me farther inside.
I step, but the hostess stops me. With her hair up in one of those high cheerleader ponytails, she eyes Mrs. Wagner’s purse that I’m holding.
It’s an uncomfortable moment as I’m feeling completely awkward carrying this impossible-to-miss black bag, which isn’t even remotely a tad masculine with its gold hardware and flower-embossed leather.
I shift the bag to my other arm and tuck it like it’s a football. “Hey,” I upnod, “how’s it going?”
“Back again?” She gives me a sly smile.
It takes me a second to realize it’s the same hostess who seated us last night.
“Yeah, just us again.” My gaze slides to Rigsby, who is eyeing the long list of signature barbeque sauces they have displayed on their wall.
It’s one of the many things they are famous for.
I motion to the row labeled “Melt Your Face Heat Level.” There are crying and sweating emojis next to it.
I’ve always loved spicy food, and this is the row I order from.
“What do you think, bud? Do you want to try a little Inferno Fire today?”
“I’m going with just ketchup this time.” He steps forward, and we follow the hostess to a booth near the front windows. She offers each of us a menu and strides away.
I plant my palms on the table and say, “You stay right here.” I pause, checking to make sure he doesn’t have his backpack with him.
No mystery pets should be escaping. We had ran back to my apartment and locked Frankfurtor in my bedroom, and I pray that's where he stays. “I’m going to talk to that woman quickly. If the waitress comes, order me a water.”
He agrees, and I hurry over with the purse in my hand. “Mrs. Wagner,” I rush out, my breathing coming out in heavy gasps. “I have your purse.”
She turns to me, and the moment her eyes land on me, her face brightens with a welcoming smile. “Well, hello there.”
“Nice to meet you.” I nod at her dinner companions and hold the purse up to her eye level. I have no interest in wasting time on pleasantries. I desperately need to make sure she has my glove. “Here’s your bag.” I thrust it toward her, not hesitating a second to ask, “Do you still have Kaci’s bag?”
“I do.” She shakes her head, a foolish chuckle escaping out of her lips. “I have no idea how this mix-up happened, but I’m sure glad it got fixed before I even realized there was a problem.”
“Right.” I clench my teeth, realizing she’s content to drag out this interaction.
“And you are the sweetest gentleman for making sure my purse was returned.” She gives me a tilt of her head while her smile lingers.
“Uh, you’re welcome.” I shift my weight from my left foot to my right and casually lean over the side of the table to see if Kaci’s bag is on the other side of the booth.
I don’t see it at all.
This could be bad.
What if she lost it? My heartbeat ramps up, and I ask again, “Do you have the other purse?”
“I do.” Her chin dips into a deep nod, but she still doesn’t move to gather it.
“Can I have it?” My words are slow at first, but then I rush to add, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m babysitting my nephew. He’s sitting all alone at that table, and I need to get back to him.”
“Oh.” She peruses the tables until she spots Rigsby, and she finally reaches under the table and pulls out an over-sized black purse.
It’s zipped up tight at the top. I can’t tell if my glove is in it, but it’s awfully full of something.
“Here you go.” She extends the bag to me, and I quickly take it.
The bag slams to the ground. It’s so heavy it feels like bricks are in it.
How she didn’t wonder about the weight when she grabbed the wrong one is beyond me.
“Thanks so much.” I back away from the table, tossing up a hand in a quick wave goodbye before pivoting and unzipping the bag as I hurry back to my booth.
It’s the moment of truth.
So much is riding on this reveal.
Is my glove here?
The zipper pulls hard and gets caught on something.
I tug, but it still won’t budge.
Do I feel bad busting in Kaci’s purse?
No, not at all, because I rescued it for her.
When I reach the table, I plop the bag down, adjust my grip, and yank on the zipper with all my might—and it releases, snapping the zipper off the track. I can see inside the bag and my glove is. . . in it!
A cold sheen of sweat dots my brow. I snatch the glove from the bag, place the bag next to me on the booth, and drop down to sit, practically cradling the glove in my hands.
Not going to lie.
If I wasn’t in public, I might kiss it.
“There you are,” a frantic female voice spats from behind me. I turn my head the slightest. Kaci is tugging her daughter in the same manner I’ve been tugging Rigsby along all morning.
With triumph, I snatch her purse handle and hold it up. “Got it!”
Her free hand flies to cover her heart, and her eyelashes flutter as if she’s blinking back tears. “What a relief.” Her words come out with a deep exhalation.
I hand the purse over and take note of how her eyes snag on the broken zipper. Feeling bad I broke it, even though it was an accident, I offer her an apologetic smile. “I had an accident opening it to get my glove, but I promise I didn’t take anything. It only looks like you were mugged.”
“Ah.” Her fingers rub the split seam that leaves a gaping hole. “I don’t even care about this. My whole life is in the bag.” Her hand dives in and rummages around as she inventories her things. When she’s content with what she sees, her gaze slopes back at me. “Thank you for grabbing it.”
“Yeah, you bet.” I flick my hand in a dismissive gesture, as if this was the easiest thing in the world to do in the middle of my workday.
The waitress returns and pushes a menu toward Kaci’s hand. “Are you joining this table? If you would like your own, I can add you to the waitlist. It’s about twenty minutes.”
“Oh, a twenty-minute wait.” She twists her wrist to look at her watch, and frowns while she turns to Bella. “Baby, I don’t know if we have time to eat. I have to get to that funeral.”
Bella’s face reflects disappointment, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “You can join us.”
Why did I do that?
It’s the people pleaser in me, and the fact that I can’t stand to see a hungry kid. Kaci’s stress is evident in the lines of her forehead. She looks exactly how I feel. Like I deserve a nice meal and a moment to sit down.
“Nah.” Kaci’s foot slides back as if she’s physically rejecting the invitation, but Bella’s face pales. I get what she’s feeling. I would be devastated if I was standing in the middle of a barbeque restaurant and didn’t get to stay for even an appetizer.
Rigsby waves his hand over the table to show our lack of drinks. “We haven’t even ordered yet. It’s perfect timing, and Bella’s hungry.”
Bella’s already climbing in, and Kaci flashes me a hesitant smile.
“If you really don’t mind, we’re both starving and so pressed for time.
I have a funeral and…” her voice drops off as her gaze latches on to Bella, and she adds, “If I can even go with Bella. I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.
I got kicked out of my test because of the distraction. ”
“Sounds like my morning.” I pause and ponder how to speak in code. I hate to speak negatively about Rigsby in front of him, but my morning was a disaster. “I got kicked out of my practice because of my distraction.”
Kaci tips her head to the side before she levels her gaze on me with a bit of a pointed glare.
“That sounds awful. I know you think this is on the same level of atrocity, but it really, really isn’t.
” Her words are slow, as if she’s weighing each one very carefully.
“I got a zero on a test because of you. Not because of my child, but because of you calling me. You knew I was in class. Do you understand what that does to my grade?”
I blink and slide to the edge of my seat, emotion budding in my chest. It’s not anger, but confusion. How is this my fault? “Why did you answer it?”
“I didn’t know who it was. I thought it was an emergency with the school since I never called to let them know Bella was absent.
I didn’t want them to report her missing or call the cops or something.
” She isn’t unkind in her tone, but there’s an edge, warning me that she’s not one to be pushed over.
Though that wasn’t what I was trying to do.
She sure knows how to speak up for herself. Feisty.
“Ah, I guess I clearly wasn’t thinking.” Raking my hand through my hair, I take a deep breath.
“I’ve been doing this parenting thing for one day, and I’m just frazzled.
I wasn’t trying to get you in trouble. To be honest, I never went to college.
It didn’t dawn on me that you could get a zero for that. I’m sorry.”
Her gaze remains unwavering, as if she is studying my every twitch.
I run my hand through my hair again. Maybe inviting her to eat wasn’t a great idea?
Not if she’s going to glare at me the whole time.
I attempt to glare back, but her bright eyes spiral all the light back at me.
They aren’t frightening or even that effective for glaring.
It’s like when a poodle attempts to growl.
You can’t help but laugh because they think they are tough, but they are the only ones.
I guess if anyone is going to glare at me, it might as well be someone with a gorgeous face like hers.
The waitress walks up, taking a moment to smile at everyone. “Did you have time to look at the menu? I’m happy to answer any questions.”