Chapter Three
THREE
“OK,” Ginny said from the corner of her mouth, “you get my mom to a table; I’ll pay Mr. Martin the rent.”
“What?” Shepherd tugged on her hand. “What? Why? Why me and your mom? Why you and Mr. Martin? Ginny, this isn’t fair!”
Ginny weaseled apart from him. “She’s a romantic, and you’re handsome!
You’ll distract her much better than I will.
Thank you, best fake boyfriend in the whole world.
” She winked and walked away, and Shepherd inhaled a ragged breath.
Beer hadn’t been cleaned up properly and was now going sour on the floor next to him.
He looked for a mop and decidedly did not look at her ass.
Her perfect, upside-down-heart-shaped ass that her dark-wash denim jeans highlighted like it was an arrow and his eyes were the target. Handsome, she’d said.
She’d called him handsome.
And now she was laughing at something Mr. Martin was saying and opening up the cash register, and he couldn’t see her perfect butt anymore.
Noah was still talking to the couple they were trying to separate. Shit. Shepherd needed to text him and get him up to speed. But how the hell do you sum up a situation like this?
Hi, we decided it would be fun to live in a plot line of a 1990s sitcom. Thank God It’s Friday, am I right? Anyway, leave us alone, please and thank you.
Shepherd forced a grin on his face and swaggered over to Ginny’s mother.
“Hello,” he greeted, setting a hand on her arm that wasn’t awkward or damp at all.
Her silk blouse stuck to his palm. “Ginny and I would like to treat you to lunch. As I am … hoping to get to know you. Personally. On a personal level.”
Noah’s mouth fell open. “Uh,” he said, tilting his head so far it touched his shoulder. “Uh.”
Deandra Kent’s expression didn’t change. He suspected she paid for the feature. But the glint in her ice-blue eyes changed from disdain to curiosity.
“Lunch sounds good,” Mr. Martin said.
“Here’s your rent, Mr. Martin!” Ginny shouted. She shoved a thick envelope at the older man. “Thank you for coming in and collecting it! It saves on stamps and gas!”
Noah wrinkled his nose. “What the hell?”
Shepherd pulled his phone out of his pocket and tried to text with one hand behind his back. Noah was the person he texted the third most. He hoped his muscle memory was enough to pull up his name and not his daughter’s, because she sure would be confused.
No. Lex would be delighted. She lived for this kind of chaos. That was probably why she and Ginny got along so well.
Not that he thought about how well Ginny and his daughter got along, or that it made his heart hurt like he’d been punched in the chest.
“Please,” Shepherd said, his lips cracking from the force of his smile. “They’re making our pizza right now. Won’t you join us, Mrs. Kent?”
“Oh, it’s Ms.,” Deandra said. Her curious eyes took him in, up and down and back again. A flirty smile settled on her lips. “And I suppose so. Though I’m not much of a pizza eater. Do you have salads in this establishment?”
“For you?” Shepherd winked. “Anything you want.” He hated himself and wanted to die. Where were the sinkholes Florida was famous for when you needed one to swallow you up and take you to hell?
Ginny hurried around the bar. “Have a good day, Mr. Martin!” She was still shouting. Her hands fluttered around the landlord as if she wanted to push him.
“You know what?” Mr. Martin said. He sidestepped around the hovering waitress and put his palm on the small of Deandra’s back. In one smooth move, he replaced Shepherd at the mother’s side, giving him a hard look. “I, too, could go for a salad. Two salads, my good man.”
Shepherd backed off. He held out an arm and waved at the nearest empty table. “Two salads, coming right up. Ginny?”
She squeaked, gazing up at him with eyes as wide as saucers. “Yep,” she said. “Yep. Yep. Yep.”
Shepherd nodded. “Yep. Go ahead and take a seat. I’ll get those salads ordered.”
Ginny followed behind Deandra and Mr. Martin like a baby penguin waddling after its parents in a snowstorm, dazed and confused but still absolutely adorable.
Shepherd rubbed his fingers in a clockwise motion against his temples, his brain expanding and contracting inside his skull despite his best efforts, and took a deep breath.
Everything was going to be fine.
Everyone was safe.
Everyone was healthy.
This was just dumb sitcom-esque shenanigans that he was only agreeing to because Ginny was a great waitress and he desperately needed his car cleaned.
“Dude,” said Noah, “what’s with this text you sent me?”
Shepherd checked his phone, curious to see what gibberish he’d managed to type while trying and failing to separate the older couple.
Shepherd: Sgsgdhdhdhdddddhhhhhhhhh
Which, hey, was pretty good, considering that was all typed behind his back.
“Ginny and I are gonna tell her mom that we’re dating.”
“Aw, damn it.” Noah slapped the bar. “Really? Since when? Man. That sucks! I was on the board for this weekend. Seriously? You couldn’t have held out for three more days? I had a lot of money riding on this thing!”
“No, no, no.” Shepherd grabbed Noah by the shoulders and pushed him closer to the kitchen.
The last thing he needed was for Deandra to hear this.
“We aren’t dating,” he hissed, his voice low.
“We’re telling her mom that we’re dating so she won’t badger Ginny into moving back to Miami.
It’s a stupidly long, complicated story, and I don’t have time to tell you it right now because I have to go order two salads for Ms. Kent and Mr. Martin. Actually, you go order the salads.”
“Salads?” Noah asked. “We have salads here?”
Shepherd closed his eyes to keep himself from yelling. “Please, Noah. For the love of all that is holy. Order the salads in the restaurant that you have worked at for almost three years now.”
“Hey, don’t get mad. I don’t eat here. I just tend the bar.”
“Do it now, Noah.” Shepherd patted the man’s shoulders. “Do it now, please. And when you deliver the food, remember: Ginny and I are a couple in love.”
“Well, duh,” Noah said. “How is that different from any other day?”
Shepherd smacked his lips together. “I hate you so much.”
“I am literally your only friend.”
“Now, Noah.”
“All right, all right! Sheesh. Someone’s having a lovers’ quarrel. Don’t take it out on me.”
Shepherd slid into the empty seat next to Ginny. Mr. Martin whispered something in Deandra’s ear, his arm slipping over the back of the woman’s chair. Whatever he said made her giggle, her lips parting into a Cheshire cat grin over her perfect white veneers.
Ginny flashed Shepherd a look of repulsion and terror.
He returned it. This was weird, but also probably for the best. If Deandra was busy being wooed, then he didn’t have to pretend to be Ginny’s boyfriend.
How could he act like he was in love with someone when he was definitely not in love with that person, or anyone, ever?
That’s what his ex-wife had told him right after admitting that her second pregnancy was not because of him. That he was “incapable of love, of sharing feelings, of being vulnerable.”
Of course, he felt like a walking, talking scab at all times, so being told he was never vulnerable came as a shock to him. Not as big of a shock as who was the father of his daughter’s half-sibling, but a shock nonetheless.
“Here’s your pizza,” Noah said, setting down an elevated silver tray and the pepperoni pizza on top, perfect pools of grease steaming on each perfect round, the cheese still bubbling near the crust. “Your salads will be right out.”
He said the word “salad” as if it were in a language Shepherd had made up.
Shepherd put his hand over his eyes.
“Looks great,” Ginny said, helping herself to a paper plate and a slice. “The pizza here is incredible, Mom.”
“Well, you always did love your carbs, didn’t you, Virginia?” Deandra sipped her Key Lime Coolada, condensation on the glass beading between her fingers.
Shepherd watched Ginny’s face fall, the high points of her cheeks pinking, and his chest went tight.
Love her carbs? What does that mean? Ginny was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in real life. Hell, she was prettier than the actresses in movies and TV shows, too. Who gave a shit if she liked carbs? A little softness never hurt.
“Just be careful with all the cheese, dear,” Deandra said. “You know how it affects your stomach.”
Ginny shoved a massive bite in her mouth.
Shepherd covered his mouth with his fist and coughed to hide the laugh.
“My son, Vincent,” Deandra said, turning in her seat to face Mr. Martin, their knees knocking under the table.
Shepherd knew this because his landlord stomped on his toes to get him out of the way.
“He does keto now. He looks amazing. Fits into his suits like you wouldn’t believe. The perfect City Councilman.”
Ginny rolled her eyes.
“Two children?” Mr. Martin shook his head. “I don’t believe it. And both grown? You’re much too young for that, Deandra.”
She laughed, shook her head. “Thank you. Vincent went to the University of Florida, you know, which is the Harvard of the South. Everyone says so.”
“Of course,” said Mr. Martin. “I’ve heard that.”
“No, it’s not,” Ginny mumbled. “No one says that, Mom.”
“He practiced for a while at our family’s law firm, and now he’s set his sights on politics. He’s easily the most popular councilman Miami-Dade has ever had. He’ll be running for mayor in the next election cycle. He’s a shoo-in to win.”
Noah arrived carrying a chef’s salad in each hand. “And here are those salads,” he said, sliding them in front of the older couple. He set down a round of silverware as well. “Drinks, anyone?”
“Please, God,” Ginny said. “Something strong.”
“You’re working,” Shepherd told her. “Just water for us, Noah, thanks. But get Mr. Martin and Ms. Kent a refill on their cooladas, please.” Maybe if they were drunk, they’d be easier to manage.
Ginny glared at him, but there was no heat in it. He bumped his elbow against hers by way of apology. She bumped her elbow back.
“Oh,” said Deandra, staring down at her food. “There is … a lot of meat in this salad. Is there any lettuce?” She dug around with her fork, pushing aside the rolls of ham and pastrami, the pile of olives. “There’s some, down at the bottom.”
“And you, Virginia?” Mr. Martin asked, popping an olive in his mouth. It exploded between his teeth as he talked with his mouth open. “Where did you go to college?”
Ginny sat up straight in her chair. “Harvard,” she said. “Which is the Harvard of Harvards, by the way.”
“Yes.” Deandra smiled. “And now you’re a waitress at a restaurant that serves meat salads. What a wise investment that was.”
Ginny went to Harvard? Holy crap. Shepherd took bite of pizza to hide his surprise. So not only was she the most beautiful person he’d ever known, but she was also the best educated.
And she wanted him to be her pretend boyfriend? Community college drop-out, divorced, forty-two-year-old him?
There was no way her mother wouldn’t see right through this ridiculous charade and take her back to Miami. He’d never see her again.
Who would deal with all the damn cruise-ship customers?
“Yes, but”—Ginny stuck a finger in the air—“good news. We have good news, don’t we, Shepherd?”
He nodded and tried to swallow and inhale at the same time, which went about as well as expected. While he choked and then hocked up a lung into the nearest napkin, Ginny rested her head on his heaving, trembling shoulder, the coconut scent of her shampoo filling his nose as his eyes watered.
“We’re in love.”
Deandra’s mouth fell open. But Mr. Martin rolled his eyes. “This is old news.”
Shepherd downed the rest of his water.
Ginny rubbed his back, her fingers tracing his spine, not that he was distracted by it, or even noticed. “How do you mean? We only started dating recently.”
“Oh, dating?” Mr. Martin said. “I thought you said in love. That’s old news.
Max and Chris have told me all about it.
There’s a pool going. I was off by a week, apparently.
” He glared at Shepherd, though why it was Shepherd’s fault his landlord lost a clearly illegal bet about when he’d start dating his employee, he didn’t know.
Noah delivered two more cooladas and two refills of water to the table. “You doing OK, Boss?”
Nope. Not at all. Terrible. Awful. It was a shame the bite of pizza he choked on didn’t finish the job and kill him. Shepherd offered him a thumbs-up.
“Well, you all enjoy,” Noah said. “Yell if you need anything. We shouldn’t get busy again until closer to dinner, so enjoy your break, you two lovebirds.” He grinned. “And you too, Boss and Ginny.” He laughed at his dumb joke and went back to tend bar.
Shepherd glared after him. His only friend. Except for Ginny. But she was new and she was pretty and she’d leave, eventually. She wouldn’t stick around. She was too good for this punny restaurant. Too good for him.
“Anyway!” Ginny took his hand in hers until they were palm to palm, threading their fingers together. “Mom, Shepherd is my boyfriend. My serious boyfriend, who owns a successful business. As you can see.”
Deandra’s ice-blue eyes narrowed. “I see,” she said. “And you’re aware of this … relationship, Michael?”
Mr. Martin sipped his second drink of the afternoon. “Very.”
Shepherd glared at the black-and-white checkered floor. It still needed a good mopping; the spilled beer was still there somewhere, probably growing a new life form.
How dare the sinkhole still not arrive? He wanted to be dead, damn it! There was no way this could get any worse. This had to be the most mortifying meal of his entire life.
But then the bell above the door jingled, announcing the local locksmith and his wife as they walked inside, two kids trailing behind them.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Shepherd said.