Gluttony

“Where?” Miranda asked, turning red. She slid her napkin across her lips and looked up at him. “Better?”

Jackson laughed. “Not really. There’s still a little, just above your lips-no, not there-no, to the left… here.” He leaned across the table and gave her such a soft, brief kiss that she could almost believe she’d imagined it. “Mmmm,” he said, licking his own lips with a satisfied grin. “Sweet.”

Miranda didn’t know what to do. She brushed her fingers against her lips, as if to check that the smear of ice cream was really gone-or to find some trace evidence of his kiss. Her fingertips tingled.

They stared at each other, Miranda blushing and Jackson playing with the peace sign that hung on a chain around his neck. “You wanna get out of here?” Jackson finally said. “We could… go somewhere.”

From the burning sensation in her cheeks, Miranda guessed that they had just turned from pale pink to fire engine red. But Jackson didn’t seem to care. “I guess,” she told him. “I’d like that.”

Jackson gestured to the waitress that she should bring over the bill, but when she returned, she wasn’t alone. “This gentleman would like to speak with you,” she said, stepping aside to make way for a short, squat guy in a security guard uniform. He pointed at Jackson’s backpack.

“Open the bag for me, sir.”

Jackson stood up, but made no motion toward his backpack. “What’s this about?”

“I said, open the bag, sir. Or I’ll open it for you.”

“You can’t just come here and-”

The security guy lunged for the bag and ripped it open before Jackson could stop him. He plunged his hand inside and pulled out a stack of candy bars and several plastic bags filled with green flakes. It looked like oregano. But Miranda knew it wasn’t.

Jackson did a 180, dropping the offended bravado and starting to whine. “Look, man, give me a break, it’s just my private stash, and I’m just trying to have a good time here-”

The security guard shook his head and waved the baggie in his face. “I don’t think so, kid. You got a lot of shit in here. This looks like intent to distribute, to me. And you know what that means.”

Miranda sat dumbstruck as the long arm of the law-or, in this case, the short, hairy arm-reached out, grabbed her date, and dragged him out of the restaurant, backpack and all. “Babe, I’m sorry!” Jackson cried as they hustled him away. “I’ll call you…”

In a moment he was gone, and she was left alone at an empty table, waiting for the check-which she would now have to cover herself. The whole restaurant was staring at her like she’d just turned green and sprouted antennae.

“Happy birthday to me,” she muttered.

“It’s not midnight yet,” a voice pointed out. “There’s still time for things to pick up.”

“Did you do this?” she asked as Kane slid into the seat across from her, an even smugger than usual grin painted across his face. “Are you fucking kidding me? Did you do this? ”

She’d never been so angry with him-she’d never been angry at him at all, in fact, since usually his careless smirk and halfhearted apologies charmed the emotion out of her before it had a chance to take root. But charm could only go so far.

“It was for your own good, Stevens.”

“Oh, really?” The sarcasm felt good, like she was in control again. And when he flinched at the cool anger in her voice, that was even better. “And how exactly do you figure that?”

“He was a dealer, Stevens.”

“So you got him arrested?” It’s not that Miranda wanted to date a drug dealer- and, she had to admit, there was a ring of truth in Kane’s words, especially given what she’d just seen of his supply-but still, he hadn’t seemed like a bad guy. And he’d kissed her.

“The security guard’s a friend of mine,” Kane explained. “He’ll take him outside, give him a good scare, confiscate his stash, then let him go. Don’t worry about him-he’s not worth your time.”

“What do you know?” she retorted.

“I know he has a girlfriend.”

“You’re lying.”

“No.”

It was like getting punched in the stomach. “Oh.” She sank back in her seat, stared up at the ceiling, and wondered how she could have been so stupid.

“I didn’t know,” Kane said. “Not at first, and then-it was too late.”

“Uh-huh.” She’d been so excited, imagining that a cute college guy might actually be interested. And what did he turn out to be? A drug dealer with a girlfriend. Killing time. “So, what? He was just using me or something?” Why even bother, Miranda wondered. It’s not like she was hot-it’s not like this city wasn’t filled with beautiful women. Why pick on Miranda, unless he just got some sadistic joy out of stringing her along and watching her get her pathetic little hopes up? “So this was all some kind of game?” she guessed bitterly, trying to make her lower lip stop trembling. She didn’t want Kane to know how close she was to tears. “Get the pathetic loser to fall for him, go back to his room, and then-?”

“No, that’s not it,” Kane said quickly. He slid across to the other side of the booth and put an arm around her. “He really liked you. He did.” But she could hear the lie in his words. “He wasn’t good enough for you, Stevens.”

“I guess no one is,” Miranda spit out. “Maybe that’s my problem. That’s why I’m always ending up alone. I’m just too fabulous, right?” She closed her eyes and pressed a hand across her face, hoping he wouldn’t notice her sniffling. “I’m not going to thank you, you know,” she informed him, trying to sound strong.

“Wouldn’t expect you to.”

“You don’t need to pull asinine stunts like that just to rescue me from my own idiocy. I’m a big girl.”

“The biggest. Elephantine.”

A giggle sputtered out through her tears. “Shut up.”

“I often say to myself, “That Miranda, she is truly an Amazonian giant among men. Doesn’t need any help from anyone, and too big to fit inside normal-size buildings. It’s-’”

“Shut up,” she repeated, laughing and elbowing him in the side.

“That’s better.” He gave her a soft shove back. “So what now?”

Miranda tried to gather herself together. She took a deep breath. “I guess I should call Harper and tell her the date… ended early. She’ll probably want to hang out.” She reached for her cell phone, but he caught her wrist.

“What’s your hurry?”

“You have a better idea?” she asked. He hadn’t yet let go of her wrist.

“Always. We get out of here, and I make things up to you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Think you’ll be able to forgive me?”

“Maybe,” she allowed. “If you behave.”

The charming smile returned with a vengeance. “Not a chance.”

She didn’t know what she was doing or where she was going, she just knew that she had to get away. He couldn’t be in love with her. He couldn’t.

Beth burst through the doors of the hotel and huddled under the front awning, shaking, barely aware of the tears streaming down her face. She curled her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms, as if the pain would make things clearer. It didn’t.