Chapter 32
Chapter
Eventually, we leave the dance floor, mainly because I feel guilty abandoning Darla to a potential encounter with corporate vipers. I’m not sure Shawn—kind as he is—can see their poison-dripping fangs.
We find the two of them standing close to the bar with a group of young professional-looking types.
Darla cradles her drink and stares toward the windows, seeming bored with whatever the guy across from her is prattling on about.
As we approach, I watch my brother respond with smiles and nods even as his eyes stay on my friend.
“Beth! George! There you are.” Shawn grins eagerly at our approach, cutting off the tall blond guy who was speaking.
“Join us. Everyone, this is my sister, Beth. George has flown most of you, I’m sure.
This is Jonathan, Felicity, Monica, Harry, and Cal.
” He points them out as he lists them off.
I probably won’t bother to remember. Not with the general air of disdain I pick up from the group.
Still, I raise my hand in a small wave. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
I get nothing more than a nod back. Maybe a little hum of recognition.
George, though, he earns some actual words.
“Bunsen!” The blond guy—Jonathan, I think—crows with a smirk. “When are you finally going to stop playing with those planes and put on a suit?”
“You sound like my father.” George reaches out to a passing waiter to snag two champagne glasses, thanking the server before they step away. He hands a flute to me, and I enjoy a deep sip.
“Thank you.” Jonathan chuckles and straightens his cuffs. “He’s a great man. Hope to be like him one day.”
Darla sighs, though the exhale sounds suspiciously like “kiss-ass.” I bite my bottom lip hard to keep from laughing and swear I spy George tightening his mouth to force away a smile.
Jonathan’s mouth thins, and he flicks his eyes between Darla and me. “And what companies are you two with?”
My friend sips what looks like a margarita, in no hurry to answer, so I speak up.
“We both work at Cornfield’s Diner. Darla’s moms own it.
” Not that I expect that last detail would make the job any more respectable to this Ivy League windbag.
Still, even though diner waitress is not the career I want for the rest of my life, I refuse to be ashamed of the people who have supported my mom and me since before I was born.
Jonathan’s eyes go wide, and I can actually see the superiority complex solidify in his brain. “Diner waitresses?”
“Yes, Jonathan.” Shawn’s reply comes in a cheery voice. “My date and my sister are diner waitresses. At Cornfield’s Diner. Home of the best burger in the northeast.” He turns his attention to Darla.
She rolls her eyes. “We’re not naming it after you.” Then, instead of clawing out Jonathan’s eyes for the implied insult to her mothers’ establishment, Darla turns to the group and does what she always does with new people.
“No,” she says, pointing to Jonathan first. Then she moves around the circle. “No. No. No. Definitely no.” She reaches George. “Yes.” Me. “Of course.” Then she pauses on Shawn and contemplates him for a moment before offering a half-hearted, “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” he chokes. “Maybe what? Why is George a yes? Yes to what?”
Darla doesn’t explain, instead concentrating on licking salt off the rim of her glass.
My brother turns to me, only a little frantic. “Do you know?”
“I do,” I admit.
“Care to share with the group?” Jonathan intones, his voice snide. But I also detect an air of frustration. Darla’s inability to be impressed or cowed by him is probably twisting his designer briefs.
I glance at Darla, and she shrugs, which is her version of Go for it. I don’t care.
“She’s identifying who would be an asset in the event of a zombie apocalypse.” It’s a game she’ll play at the diner when she’s bored, and I always enjoy hearing her explanations for postapocalyptic approval.
The group is silent for one breath. Two. Then…
“And I’m a maybe?” Shawn yelps. “If George is a yes, then I should be, too.”
This time she explains. “He can fly a plane. Can you fly a plane?”
My brother sputters. “No. But I own multiple boats. Planes have to come down sometime.”
“Sure, but you’re way too friendly.” Her lips twist as she gives a dismissive wave. “You’d invite everybody on. We’d run out of resources. Zombie apocalypses require ruthlessness.”
“This conversation is ridiculous.” Jonathan sneers.
“Then go somewhere else, guy who would immediately die while waiting for his driver to pull his car around, not realizing his chauffeur has already fled because he couldn’t care less about the paltry paycheck you give him when currency has shifted from dollars to canned goods.
” Darla gets all that out in one breath without sounding winded.
She narrows her eyes at the BnB clone. “Do you even know how to use a can opener?”
From the way Jonathan’s face flushes purple, my guess would be no. But whatever his retort might be is cut off by the sudden, frantic appearance of Tasha.
“Gotta steal this one,” she chirps, her voice high-pitched as she grasps Shawn’s arm and tows him away. “You three come along, too.” She waves toward Darla, George, and me.
“Thank fuck,” Darla mutters.
Curious, I follow, George at my side, his hand against my lower back.
When we’re away from the group, Tasha drops my brother’s arm and wrings her hands.
“Shawn. Hey—shit—I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t invite her.”
My brother tilts his head, obviously confused, but my gut drops as I make an educated guess.
“She came as a plus-one,” Tasha adds.
He shakes his head, still not understanding. “Who?”
Tasha chews her lip. “Tiffany.”
Fucking Tiffany.
Darla frowns. Even more than she already was. I gave her the basics a while ago. She knows Shawn was engaged and that he found out the woman was using him for his money, so he called it off.
“Oh.” Shawn clears his throat, then he offers Tasha a soft smile. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“But—”
He wraps his arms around his friend in a firm hug that she relaxes into. “This night is about you and Annabel. Tiffany and I were bound to run into each other at some point. But it’s not going to be a thing. Enjoy yourselves.”
Darla slips in close to me. “Point out Tiffany when you see her,” she says so low only I can hear.
“Why?” I whisper back.
Her ruthless gaze scans the room. “Because I don’t like to be blindsided by my enemies.”
Well, that’s a position to take.
But I follow her lead, searching the crowd until I spot a familiar figure who also appears to be on the hunt for someone.
“Gold lace dress, ombré hair in waves past her shoulders, nude heels, spray tan, to the left of the ice sculpture.”
Darla’s eyes lock on the woman who was almost my sister-in-law. My friend’s jaw tightens, and she gives a small, sharp nod.
As if sensing the weight of gazes, Tiffany turns her attention our way, and her stare fastens on my brother. Shawn hasn’t noticed yet, but his ex arrows straight toward us.
“You,” Darla snaps at Shawn, stepping away from me and up to him. “Eyes on me.”
“Always,” he breathes out the single word with devotion.
Darla pauses, then shakes her head, dismissing his smitten comment.
“I’m going to make out with you to both make your ex jealous and show her you’re off-limits. Do you consent?”
He gapes, then mutters in a dazed tone, “Am I dreaming?”
“Does it matter?”
“Good point. No, it doesn’t matter. Yes, I consent.” Shawn sounds ready, but I don’t think he is. Not for my best friend to shove him against the closest glass wall and plaster herself to him. Lips, tits, hips, and all.
“Against the window?” George closes his eyes with a shudder, and I get the sense it’s more about the proximity to heights than the raunchy PDA.
Shawn may have been shocked at the initial burst of aggression, but he catches on fast. Our group watches as he wraps his arms in a tight embrace around Darla’s waist and lifts her a few inches off the ground so their mouths are level.
As much as I love my brother and want Tiffany to leave him alone for good, I could have gone my whole life without seeing him suck face and been totally fine.
Shawn, on the other hand, looks like he might die if this stops.
I hope this doesn’t ruin him.
There’s a gasp behind me, and the three of us not in a heavy petting session turn in time to observe a furious Tiffany glaring at the couple. She lets out a few sputtering noises, then stomps her heel like a toddler in a tantrum before stalking away.
George, Tasha, and I face one another, then collectively glance at Darla and Shawn, who I’m not sure are even aware she left.
“Should we tell them Tiffany is gone?” Tasha asks, her voice low.
Another collective glance, then away. Belatedly, I realize that George and Tasha are waiting for my opinion. As if I’m the final say on what happens between the lovebirds.
Whether or not anything develops between Darla and Shawn is entirely on them, in my opinion. I have no idea if they’d be good together.
I just hope that whatever happens doesn’t hurt either one.
And the fact that the kiss is still going tells me neither one really wants it to stop.
“They can figure it out.” I shuffle away, and after sharing a sibling-like smirk, George and Tasha follow my lead.