Decker
A brisk walk-slash-borderline jog later, we enter the Deer Lodge. I'm just glad we survived the short trip from the hotel without being recognized, which is kind of ironic since this whole charade was originally about getting as much attention as possible.
It's not Zane's fault he wasn't able to make it, but I feel terrible about wasting Rocky's time. He's itching to clean up this whole mess just as much as I am. Still, the guy seems remarkably upbeat despite the delay.
The place is dim but cozy with plank walls and a long, well-worn bar creating a rustic feel. I breeze past the communal tables—eating with strangers? No, thank you—and I'm relieved when I find an empty high-backed booth in the corner.
"Happy here?" I ask, not waiting for Rocky to reply as I slide in.
"Sure," his deep voice booms behind me, sending a warm shiver through me.
"Menus," I say as I shove one awkwardly toward him, hoping the distraction of choosing something to eat might reset me.
I can't pinpoint the reason for it, but something about Rocky puts me on edge more than most people do. Given my background, I'm wary of newcomers anyway.
But I don't think it's that. It's something else. And I haven't figured out yet if it's a good thing or not.
The waiter comes over and takes our orders. We've both taken off our sunglasses inside, but the waiter doesn't give any signal he's picked up on who Rocky is. That's good. I want to remain as incognito as possible.
Once he leaves us, I say, "I'm sorry about the delay," at the same time as Rocky says, "I'm glad we get to spend some time together."
"You are?" I answer, then Rocky's deep voice follows seamlessly, "You have nothing to apologize for."
I smile, feeling my cheeks warm, and grab the napkin, shredding its edges beneath the table.
His pale-green eyes settle on me. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, fine. Why do you ask?"
"You seem a little…nervous. Have I made you uncomfortable?"
"No. Not at all. It's just I'd been geared up to be in work mode, and this"—I wave my hand between us—"isn't work."
His plump lips spread in a grin. "No. It isn't. But it's a nice chance to get to know each other outside of work. If you're open to it?"
"That's hardly fair. I'm pretty sure I know a whole lot more about you than you do about me."
"I've done some research of my own."
As soon as he says it, his smile falters, like he's realizing he's just stepped on a massive pile of shit.
I glance down at what's left of the napkin and brush the mess off my chinos. "I see."
Of course he has.
Which means he knows all about my supremely dysfunctional family and upbringing. I don't know why I cling to this irrational hope that if enough time passes, people will forget about it. In the age of the internet, nothing disappears forever.
"College at thirteen, huh?" he says, injecting a forced pep into his voice. "That's pretty neat."
"Yeah," is all I say before I'm saved by the waiter returning with our burgers.