Chapter 12
TWELVE
Sherry tosses the menus on the table, shooting me one more glare before walking away.
I’d feel bad, but she knew who she was sleeping with. It’s not like it’s some big secret. I was up front about it.
“She seems nice,” Prue says with a smirk. She slides into one side of the booth.
“It’s not my fault girls think they can tame me.” I shrug, sliding into the booth across from her. “I’m unattainable and untamable.”
Rolling her eyes, she picks up the menu, studying it like there is going to be a test. I’ve been here enough times that I don’t need to look at a menu. I get the same thing almost every time. I take to just watching her make faces as she reads it.
It’s cute. Her forehead scrunches up. Her head tilts to the side. She nods to herself, occasionally, tapping parts of the page. Her eyes glance up at me, annoyance flashing across her face.
I shouldn’t like the way she looks at me like I’m the most frustrating guy on the planet, but it makes me happy.
“Have you been watching me this whole time?”
“Yes. Because you are so fucking fascinating.”
Her eyes spin in circles for the billion time since meeting me. I wonder how much longer until the things fall out of their sockets. They must have been acrobats in a past life, the way they do loops all the time.
“What are you getting?”
“A BBQ bacon double cheeseburger and a large fry. You?”
“A junior cheeseburger.”
“That’s why you have low iron. A junior-fucking-cheeseburger? Fucking hell. No. You are not getting a junior cheeseburger, or they will think I’m on a date with a minor.”
“It’s not a date,” she challenges.
“Doesn’t mean shit what it is, it’s about how it looks.” I grab the menu from her hands. Skimming it for the first time in months, I try to find something she might like. “Okay. You’ll get a glam burger with fries.”
“You can’t just decide what I’m going to eat. That’s extremely rude.” She folds her arms over her chest. “I can’t eat that much food.”
“So don’t finish it.” I shrug, tossing the menu on the table. “But you are not ordering a junior cheeseburger on my watch.”
“Fine.” Her eyes roll again. “If you’re going to force me to indulge, I also want a strawberry milkshake.”
“Would you like that with a cherry on top?” I grin.
“Yes,” she shoots back.
After we order, she takes to glancing around the restaurant. Lavish Royal is one of my favorite restaurants. Its simple food is done classy. It’s won many awards for taste alone, yet the vibe is a mix of upscale and edgy.
When I found this place, I swore I’d never sleep with anyone who works here. Didn’t want to risk being thrown out, but after getting to know the owner, and the plenty of hot women he hired, that went right out the window.
He would pick keeping me as a customer than any girl who decided to throw a fit over me sleeping with them and never calling them back. Not sure he will ever make boss of the year like that, but with food as good as his cooks serve, it doesn’t matter.
I also swore I’d never bring a girl here. I didn’t need one of my hook ups finding out about this place. They might want to return. While I’m sure Victor would kick them out over me, I don’t want to make him do that.
So as Prue studies the place, to avoid looking at me, I sit with the fact I’m breaking a lot of my rules for her. I don’t like it. I don’t like the way she makes me feel at all.
I’m not stupid. It’s not like I haven’t liked a girl before. I know what a crush feels like. Couldn’t be immune to that if I wanted. It’s human nature to feel drawn to people, especially pretty girls, but it’s never been like this.
I normally entertain a girl for a few hours, sleep with her, and move on to the next. With Prue I find myself not ready to move on yet. That might change when I actually fuck her, but until then I’m forced to sit with these warm, fuzzy feelings.
And I hate them.
“Where are we going after this?” she finally asks, resting her eyes on me.
“We are going to get you a tattoo.”
“I’m not getting a tattoo.” She tucks a strand of her short hair behind her ear.
“Oh. Yes, you are. It’s now my job to bring out the rebellious girl trapped inside of you. I owe it to the world.”
She laughs. “It was just a fun idea, Ben. I can’t really get a tattoo. Unless…”
“Unless?” I question. I can tell by the tone in her voice that I’m not going to like whatever answer she gives. Her evilness knows no bounds when it comes to me. She is trouble, and I’m addicted to it.
“Unless you get one too.” She grins. “And I get to pick what you get.”
“Okay.” I shrug. If that is her master plan to try to get out of getting a tattoo, she has no idea who she is messing with.
I’m damn near out of space, at least anywhere visible, but she doesn’t seem to realize that I have very little shame.
“I accept your terms and conditions. We will both get tattoos.”
“I hope your guy is familiar with the male appendage.” She smirks.
“Probably not as familiar as you.” She sticks her tongue out at me, as her eyes light up. “Don’t tease.”
“I almost got my tongue pierced once. It was a dare, but I chickened out.”
“What a shame.”
“That was the closest I’ve ever been to being drunk.”
“Oh fuck, Prue. Really? You don’t drink?” I groan, resting my head on the table. This girl has no idea what fun is, and I’m going to suffer trying to teach her how to have it.
“I drink. A little. A glass of wine here and there. I like cosmos.” She shrugs, as I peer up at her. “I’ve been focused on behaving, unlike you.”
“We are getting you a tattoo and then you are getting drunk.”
“No. I don’t want a hangover.”
“I make no promises, but you are going to have some fucking fun for once in your damn life and I’m going to be there to watch.”
“You’ll make sure no one drugs me or kidnaps me too, right?”
“I’ll make sure you’re safe.” I sit up.
“Promise?” She eyes me carefully. “You won’t ditch me for some hot chick?”
“No. I’m all yours for tonight.”
“Then fine. I’ll get a tattoo and let you get me drunk.”
“You’re going to have a great night.” I flash her a grin. The idea she trusts me enough to go along with this makes me unreasonably happy. “What tattoo are you going to get?”
“Oh. I don’t know. Didn’t think that far.”
I pull out my phone, sending a text to my buddy Greg, asking him to set aside some time for two tattoos tonight. It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ve sent him enough work that his shop has become one of the more famous ones in town.
“No ideas?”
“No.” She shrugs. “What do girls normally get? Butterflies?”
“You are not getting butterflies unless you get them as a tramp stamp, flying out of your ass.”
She rolls her eyes. “I just want something small. Somewhere I can cover up, but also show off from time to time.”
“Hmm.” I grab a napkin from the table, pulling a sharpie out of my pocket.
I always carry one in case a fan wants an autograph or I feel like defacing some property.
“You are not getting a butterfly tattoo. Or an anchor. Or any of that basic bullshit. If you are going to do this, you do it right.” I glance up at her.
“If it’s going to be an act of rebellion and on your body forever, it deserves to be beautiful. ”
Staring up at her, then back at the napkin, I ponder all the things that would be fitting for her. To the whole world she looks like a normal rich girl. Well-behaved. Good student. Perfect trophy wife material. But I know better than that.
Uncapping the sharpie, I take to drawing the only thing that seems fitting for a girl like Prue.
She may look like an angel, but underneath that halo rest two horns that desperately want to be unleashed.
I plan on helping them come out.