Chapter 12 #3
Annoyance edges in and snuffs out my cheerfulness. The only part of this date that’s actually enjoyable is the part that involves Jay, and the same went for my date with Arthur. My mood sours instantly at the thought.
“I’m so full,” Chad announces, leaning back in his seat and letting out a very impolite burp. “I have no room for dessert; let’s get the bill.”
As usual, I see he’s taking my opinion into consideration. Not.
I play with the last bits of my baked potato. “Sure,” I agree.
The sooner we get the bill, the sooner we can get out of here, meaning this date is almost over and I’ll never have to see Sunglasses Chad the Drug Dealer again.
Compared to my other dates, it wasn’t terrible, but was it good?
No. Not even in the slightest. I will not settle for a person just because he didn’t outright insult me like Jay did or bring his mom on a date like Arthur did. I deserve more than that.
At Chad’s request, our waitress brings us our bill, and Chad grabs it from the center of the table.
He opens the little black book the bill comes in, glances at the number printed at the bottom, then shuts the book.
His facial expression gives nothing away, but it must be a large number.
Our steaks alone were $150, and that’s before all his appetizers, taxes, and the tip.
Chad pats his pockets. “Huh.”
“‘Huh’ what?” I ask, staring at him expectantly.
His face remains unchanged, almost eerily calm. “Hey, what shoes are you wearing? I’m assuming they’re not sneakers, right?”
That’s random. “Um, no. I’m wearing heels.” As one does when one comes to Delphine.
“Right, right, that’s what I thought.” He pauses for a moment, his lips pursed in thought. “Why don’t you meet me outside? I’ll meet you at the car, and we can go for mini golf or something.”
He wants to extend this date? He knows nothing about me other than I don’t like fish—which isn’t even true—and that I like art. But the way he’s shifting is suspicious.
“Is everything all right?”
He pushes the bill to the side. “Here’s the deal. I don’t have my wallet, and the bill is way more than I expected it to be.”
I feel like face-palming or punching him. Maybe both. “Okay . . . how much is it?”
As soon as I flip open the little black book and glance down at the number, I choke. The bill is $282.59 without the tip, which is already more than I make in an entire week at the bakery.
“I can’t afford this!” I exclaim, glaring daggers at him. He’s the one who ordered all the appetizers and one of the most expensive items on the menu for our entrée!
“Relax, it’s all good,” he says, taking the bill from my hand and setting it back on the table. “Remember when I said we got a perfect table?”
“Yes, but I don’t understand what that has to—”
“Grab your purse. Meet me at the car; I parked near the back. On the count of three.”
I’m so confused I can barely follow his line of thought. What is he talking about?
“Three!” He jumps up from the table and rushes toward the emergency door. I rise from my seat as soon as I realize what he’s doing.
“Chad, no!”
I’m too late. At the last second, Chad motions me forward then pushes open the door, and, surprise surprise, the sign wasn’t lying.
The alarm actually goes off, and it’s deafeningly loud, screeching and flashing and making sure not a single person isn’t looking over.
Chad’s disappeared outside, and I’m standing beside the table with a guilty expression on my face.
Everyone’s staring at me like I’ve done something heinous.
My friends keep telling me to let loose, but skipping out on a $282.
59 bill is not something I’m willing to do.
“Is there a problem here?” Nina asks me, flanked by two security guards. Security guards! They know something is up, and their menacing expressions mean business. She’s no longer the smiling waitress who greeted me. “Should we call the police?”
I gulp and shake my head slowly, sinking back down into my seat. “No, no! No problem!”
“The emergency door is for emergencies only,” a guard says, and the alarm finally turns off. My relief is immediate and premature, since I’m still in a lot of trouble here.
“I’m sorry. The guy I was with had an emergency. He . . . he, uh . . . pooped his pants! Yes. And it was our first date, so he got embarrassed and fled. I’m very sorry for the disturbance.”
The three of them eye me, then look at the empty little black bill book sitting blatantly against the stark white table cloth.
“Uh-huh,” Nina says, not convinced. “I’ll be right over to collect payment. Cash or card?”
I squeak. Like literally, audibly squeak, which doesn’t win me any points with the three of them. “Um, card?”
She nods once and leaves. Security backs away too, but they don’t go far.
Shit. Shit shit SHIT. Stupid effing Chad and his stupid effing face and his stupid effing existence.
I don’t have that kind of money on me. I didn’t bring a credit card, and I only have $120 in cash. I never even thought I’d need to spend it all; I had it just in case. Clearly that was not enough, because now I’m majorly and royally and all other kinds of screwed.
I could call Kalani and ask her to come with her credit card—it is her fault I’m in this position—but she’s at a movie and probably won’t answer her phone.
Emi doesn’t have a job and gets money by asking her dad, so I don’t even know if she could get that amount together in the time I need, plus I don’t want to put her in that position for me.
I’m going to have to call my parents. God, they’re going to kill me.
For lying to them, for going on a date with a morally questionable drug dealer, and for getting myself into this predicament.
Internally, I’m screaming and punching the table and kicking Chad in the balls. Externally, I’m calmly sitting at the table, looking through my purse as if money will magically appear the longer I stare into it.
“Problem?”
Tensing, I look up and meet Jay’s dark eyes. Behind him, his friends are standing up from their seats and putting on their jackets.
“Nope,” I say, but it comes out too high-pitched and squeaky.
He’s not convinced. “Uh-huh. So, what was that whole thing with your date running out the emergency door? Because from where we were sitting, it sure looked like he ski—”
“He skipped out on the bill!” I erupt, the stress not letting me stick to my everything-is-fine ruse.
There’s something about Jay that always forces me to tell him the truth, no matter how terrible.
“Chad ordered a shit-ton of food and said everything was on him, then he skipped out on the bill, and now I’m stuck paying two hundred eighty-two dollars and fifty-nine cents, plus tip, and I only have a hundred and twenty dollars in my purse, and I lied to my parents about what I’m doing tonight, and I can’t call my friends for various reasons, and I’m probably going to jail.
” It all comes out in one breath, and even though I feel better saying it out loud, I’m not any closer to figuring out what to do.
His facial expression remains the same. “Your date’s name was Chad?”
“Jay!” That’s what he got from all of that?
“Okay, okay.” His lips tilt up at the corners. “You sure know how to pick ’em, Princess.”
“It’s not me, remember?” I mumble, my face heating. I’m three for three right now for bad dates, and the common denominator in those is me. Am I the problem?
“Well,” Jay starts, buttoning up his jacket, “I’d love to help, but you said earlier you didn’t need my help, so . . . bye.”
My jaw drops as he turns and walks away, but I can’t even be mad since I did say I wouldn’t need his help. As I stare at him walking away, it feels like my last hope is slipping through my fingers, but my pride won’t let me call out to him, apologize, and beg for his help.
Right when I’m about to crack and crawl on my knees, Jay pauses mid-step, his tense back noticeable even through his jacket. It looks like he sighs, then he turns around and marches back to my table.
“How much do you owe again? Two hundred and eighty?”
I’m so shocked I take a few seconds to process his question. “Two hundred eighty-two dollars and fifty-nine cents, plus tip.”
He picks up the black book and flips it open as Nina returns with the Visa machine.
“Hey, Nina, don’t worry about her, she’s with me,” Jay says since Nina keeps eyeing me suspiciously.
Jay reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, flipping it open and pulling out a card.
He takes the machine from the waitress as I sit here, stupidly staring at him.
I wanted his help, yes, but I didn’t expect him to just pay for it.
I don’t know what I was logically expecting, but not this.
“Jay . . .” I start, but he cuts me off with a look.
“It’s fine.” He punches in some numbers on the machine and hands it back to Nina. She pulls his card out and hands it back to him with a smile.
“Thanks, Jay, enjoy your night,” she says, ripping the receipt and giving it to him before turning and leaving with the machine.
I’m left at the table with Jay, where we stare at each other like we’ve never met before. I’m so shocked by what just happened I can’t form proper thoughts, never mind actual words. Jay paid $282.59 plus tip for a dinner he didn’t even eat.
Jay’s jaw works. “Thank you?”
It’s a question, and I can’t make sense of it. He’s thanking me for paying $282.59 plus tip?
He releases a breath and shakes his head. “You are incapable of saying those words, aren’t you?”
His meaning dawns on me, and I’m shaken out of my stupor, hopping out of my seat. “No, no. I appreciate what you just did. Thank you, really, truly, thank you, Jay.”
He looks skeptical. “Well, you’re paying me back.”
I nod. “Yes, of course. Thanks for not letting me go to jail, or worse, call my parents.”
His exterior melts a bit, and he cracks a small smile. “Right. Come on.”