Chapter 19 Reason Eleven
I lost my mind. I must have. It was the only logical explanation for my actions. In a fit of madness, I agreed to the worst proposition that had ever been propositioned. As I reread the diabolical text exchange for the twentieth time that night, I cringed.
Gray had said: I want you two to get along, Half-pint.
So, I’d said: I hope you burn in eternal Hell.
To which Gray had responded: Gosh, Kent. You can’t say stuff like that.
Which is why I’d replied: Her hair is stupid and you’re ruining your life. You’re going to be stuck with a woman wearing ankle-length denim skirts until you die. I hope you’re happy. I wish you well. Warmest goddamn regards.
And then he’d said: Shooters. Tomorrow night. Just us three. I think you’ll really like her when you get to know her. You’ll love her like I do. I just know it. Also, please don’t use the word with the G and the D in it. You know it makes me nervous.
Which would explain the temporary psychotic break that caused me to respond with: I have a GODDAMN boyfriend and he’s worth ten of you and twelve of her. He’s coming with me, and you can GODDAMN deal with it. PS: stop with the GODDAMN hair gel. You look like a GODDAMN idiot.
“You’re sure you don’t mind doing this?” I said, glancing at the man to my left. “There’s a good chance he might fire us both in a fit of rage.”
Christian, my truck-unloading workplace bestie, was grinning ear to ear.
“Buddy, we make a little over minimum wage. Who the hell is he gonna replace us with? Listen, I told you, I don’t like what he’s doing to you.
And it isn’t just about you. He’s stringing Sarah along for the ride. She doesn’t deserve that.”
“My ring,” I growled.
“Sorry, what?”
“Doesn’t matter. Listen, when we get in there, I want you to lay it on thick, okay? I know you’re not gay, I get that, and I don’t want you to think I’m hitting on—”
Christian rolled his eyes. “Bro, if you want me to kiss you to make your boyfriend jealous, all you have to do is ask. They’re just lips.
It ain’t a big deal.” He leaned forward, his mouth opening as he approached.
When we connected, his tongue darted into my mouth, exploring me with force.
His breath tasted like cinnamon and chewing tobacco, and—God help me—that night, I learned the combination did unspeakable things to me.
When he pulled away, I found myself frozen in place.
Once I pried my eyes open, Christian was grinning ear to ear. “See? Just a kiss.”
“Just a kiss, he says,” I said, trying desperately to catch my breath. “Jesus, I’m pretty sure I just ejaculated.”
He snorted, and then he winked at me. “You ready?”
“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do this.”
Gray and Sarah were already at the table when we arrived.
We started toward them, making it three steps before the sound of a woman’s throat clearing cracked reality right in two.
I turned toward my arch-nemesis, the nameless waitress.
Once again, a mystically bound stick of half-ash/half-cigarette hung from her mouth.
She held out her hand and arched an eyebrow at me.
I glared at her as I fished my wallet out of my pocket. When I handed my ID to her, she smirked and shooed me away with her hand. “Just fuckin’ with you, fellow.”
“Everything about you offends me, Nameless Waitress,” I said as she stared at me like I was trash, “but that thing you do with your cigarette is pretty great.”
When we made it to the table, Gray’s eyes were almost bulging out of his head. “Christian?” he shouted. “What—I mean—you’re here with …” Gray turned and stared at me.
I smiled at him, and then I leaned over and kissed Christian on his cheek.
Gray muttered G-rated curses under his breath as we took our seats.
I opened my menu and stared down at the disastrous selection of appetizers laid out before me.
Without missing a beat, Christian pulled the menu from my hand, having chosen to live life on the wild side for the both of us, and ordered the “WORLD RENOWNED SHOOTERS’ SUSHI!
” After the order was placed, Gray placed his hand on top of Sarah’s.
Right on top of the table for the whole world to see.
Every ounce of self-control left me. I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that Gray’s hand didn’t belong on hers, or the three shots of Jose I'd downed before leaving my mother’s home, but I reached over and gripped Christian’s hand so tightly he winced.
Sarah was staring at us, transfixed. I figured she’d never seen two men holding hands, and I reveled in knowing that I was making her uncomfortable.
I knew I had no right to be angry with her.
She’d never done anything to me. Not on purpose, at least. She was just unlucky enough to attach herself to a man who was already spoken for.
A man that could never belong to her. The same man who demanded I break up with Kate all those years ago, and had been willing to give me a detailed, seventeen-point summary why.
As Gray stared at my hand connected with Christian’s, he looked bloodthirsty.
Good.
“So,” Sarah said, far more casually than I had expected, “how did you two get together?”
Christian, ever the champ, chimed in. “We were working the truck one day. It was really hot out." Christian tapped my nose with his index finger. “He took his shirt off and it was lust at first sight. Right, babe?”
“Babe?” Gray half-said, half-growled.
“So much lust,” I said with a wink. “I wanted to take him right then and there.”
“Funny,” Gray said. “I thought he looked a little repulsed when I walked onto the loading dock. Almost like he might be sick at any moment.”
Christian laughed. “Lovesick, maybe.”
I glared at Gray. “You hear that? Lovesick.” I turned to Sarah.
“After that, Gray yelled at me in the break room. When Christian found me, he asked me why someone so beautiful was doing something as ugly as crying. He said if I gave him the chance, I’d never have to cry again.
” I glanced back at Christian, and because he was a damn good kisser, I smashed our lips together.
His tongue entered my mouth forcefully. When he pulled away, his eyes were wide with revelation.
I had no idea what had been revealed to him, and I didn’t particularly care to ask.
“Kent?” Christian said.
“What?” I whispered, my gaze fixed on Gray as his eyes bulged out of his head.
“How did you know you were g—”
Before he could ask whatever he was wanting to ask, the waitress returned with a growl in her voice, and a glare directed at me.
“Sushi’s up.” She dropped a plate on the table and crossed her arms against her chest, still holding a package of red and white meat in her hand.
I stared down at the abysmal, empty ‘sushi’ platter, if you could call it that.
The tray was simply a commemorative plate with a chipped and faded image of Flounder from Little Mermaid.
I resisted every urge inside of me demanding I belt out an off-key rendition of “Kiss the Girl” directly into Gray’s face.
Sarah was smiling at the waitress with the same doe-eyed, goofy-ass grin she gave Gray every chance she got. I’d seen it so many times I could have sketched it from memory.
“Hi there,” she said to the waitress, waving cheerfully. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
The waitress arched an eyebrow at her, and then the corner of her lip tugged upward.
Smiles had no business residing on her face.
It was like someone had taken a Mrs. Potato Head doll and wedged a banana where her lips should have been.
The nameless waitress’ grin was wide, and it filled me with nothing but pure terror.
An antichrist come to bring about the end times.
“Don’t think so. I think I’d remember meeting you," she said, eyeing Sarah up and down before pointing at the tray. “Eat up. Made that dish special.” She turned and glared at me. “Just don’t eat the greenery. I fixed that up specifically for Curly Sue over there.”
There, on the platter, was a half-eaten bag of off-brand, imitation crab meat.
There was a single serving cup of minute rice, three leaves of iceberg lettuce that were brown around the edges, and a single dollop of spit sitting in the center of each, meant for me.
In lieu of wasabi, one single, sad little packet of Louisiana Hot Sauce sat at the side.
“Everything about this place is stupid, and I’ll be damned if you think I’m going to—”
The waitress opened the bag of imitation crab meat and held it over the table, letting it slither out of the bag and onto the plate. “Eat that,” she muttered under her breath as she walked away.
“I know what I want to eat, babe,” Christian said, glancing down at my crotch.
I choked on my Diet Coke, hacking up splishes and splashes all over the table.
“Not much of a meal, from what I hear,” Gray said, stabbing a slice of crab with his plastic spork. He lifted it in front of his face and stared at it like the fish byproduct offended his very soul.
“Felt pretty big in my truck earlier,” Christian said.
“You know,” Gray said, even though no one asked him for his input, “I don’t think I ever told you about the first time Sarah and I went out."
I looked up, trying my best not to vomit as Sarah ripped a chunk of sushi away from the half-eaten block and dipped it in the cup of minute rice.
“That’s disgusting. There’s no telling whose hands had been in that bag.” I turned toward Christian. “I know whose hands are going to be in my bag later, though.” I leaned forward, nipping his chin with my teeth.
Christian whimpered.
“That waitress sure seemed sweet,” Sarah said to Gray. “Make sure you give her a good tip, Bun-bun.”
“Took her out in my truck,” Gray added, ignoring Sarah, clearly oblivious to the fact that no one cared about his stupid little story.
"Congratulations," I said, lost in Christian's eyes.
“The lake.”
I jerked my head in Gray's direction. “What?”
“I took her to the lake, Kent.”