“That’s what I’m afraid of. Or what I’m entertained by. Time will tell which wins.”
CHAPTER 18
DIANA
O ur server is very sexy, covered in tattoos, eyeliner Cleopatra-Inspired, and there are more rings on her fingers than I own. “What can I get for you two?”
Eddie says with confidence, “She’ll have the mushroom burger. Crispy French fries. Not burnt, crispy.”
I smile and flick a self-conscious glance to Wyatt because he is staring at me. At us.
My ex is oblivious as he motions to the bar. “Do you have Don Julio?”
“Pretty sure we didn’t run out since last night, but I’ll let you know,” she nods, her eyes in the past and future at the same time.
He notices. “Was it busy?”
“New play opened so we were slammed. It was insane. A fight even broke out because there were no tables. Why can’t people control their tempers?” She pushes a ring into place on her forefinger, twisting it with her thumb until the head of a lion is centered. “I don’t remember if it was a tequila crowd. That doesn’t stick out so you’re probably good. Rocks or frozen?”
He and I both say, “Frozen,” at the same time, but my smile is smaller than his.
Is Wyatt still watching us?
He is.
But being cool about it.
I never found out who he was with. Has to be a relative. Brother? A cousin, maybe?
“And I want a jalapeño burger, medium rare. And you know what? Throw some fried onions on it. I’ll have an Orpheus.”
“Draft or bottle?”
“Draft.”
Wyatt got a bottle and is sucking it right now. Don’t know why that’s so sexy, but it is.
Our server points a purple nail at their table and asks me, “Do you know the Cocker Brothers?”
So that’s his brother. My eyelashes flutter to her. “Not really.”
“Because you keep looking over.”
Why does she have to call it out right in front of my date? Rude. “I wasn’t looking over.”
She cocks her head. “I’ll get your drinks.”
Eddie is curious now, but Wyatt and his brother aren’t looking over anymore. Without the need to hide his curiosity he keeps staring at them and frowns, “Cocker Brothers? Like related to the quarterback? Huh. I guess I can see it.” Turning back to me he asks, “Do you know them?”
“No. Don’t you? Haven’t you met any of them at golf?”
He laughs, “Top Golf, maybe.”
That’s a nightclub bar where you can hit balls into the ozone layer and somebody else picks them up for you. It’s got a four-hour wait on the weekends.
I hate snobbery.
It’s so unattractive.
“Why would you say that, Eddie?”
He moves the menus over because, for some reason, she didn’t take them with her. “It’s a gentlemen’s sport. I can’t picture those meat-heads playing anything but beer pong,” he snorts.
“You just said they’re related to one of the best quarterbacks we’ve ever had.”
Eddie shrugs the entire subject off. “Proving my point.”
I’m really irritated now. It’s been stewing since he picked me up. No, before that. This aggravation about Eddie’s snobby belief system used to bother me back when we were together. “Are you saying that quarterbacks can’t be gentlemen?”
“Diana,” he begins as if he’s talking down to a child who couldn’t possibly understand. “Football players are jocks. How many of them are smoking a pipe with the city’s elite after a game?”
“Smoking a pipe doesn’t make you a gentleman. It just makes you a smoker.”
He squints, anger finally rearing up. “If you’re going to compare golf to football, I hate to tell you but this conversation isn’t going to end well.”
I sit back in my chair as our server returns with our drinks. She sees the tension, notes it, and places his frosty mug down before I’m given my margarita. He doesn’t notice that it’s usually customary to serve the woman first. And I’m not a stickler except for this instinctive feeling I can’t shake that she purposefully slighted me.
Maybe I’m being too sensitive because of our argument. That could be it.
I wait for my drink, and frown as some splashes over the salted rim and onto my lap. Our eyes lock and hers are filled with a challenge.
I slowly say, “Um…thanks?” Why is she staring at me. “We’re in the middle of an argument and Eddie won’t argue in front of you, so if you could just…”
Her eyebrow arches and I’m not sure if she’s going to leave. But she does. Eddie glances behind him to see if she’s gone. “Why did you have to tell her that?”
“I’m irritated. Don’t talk to me like I’m five. I am not beneath you.” I point to the brothers. “They are not beneath you. They are not playing beer pong! One of them is a police officer who probably sees terrible things every single day just so you can walk the streets and feel safe at night! And they are related to our Senator, and one of our former Senators, and probably a million politicians before that who probably played golf and smoked pipes with presidents! So why don’t you take that draft beer and put your pipe in that?! Or do they not have martinis here??!”
The restaurant has gone silent. Not just around us, but the entire restaurant.
I may have been yelling.
Yes, apparently I was.
Not the shrill kind, more the I-remember-why-we-broke-up kind of shouting without any self-awareness what-so-ever.
Eddie’s jaw could cut glass.
I glance around the place, see varying shades of interest, curiosity, amusement, and thirst for more drama. I don’t want to look at Wyatt. But I have to sneak a peek. His eyebrows are pushed together but there’s laughter in his eyes.
I can’t look at his brother.
Their server is my server, our server, and she is holding their plates. At first I think one is mine because I recognize the mushroom burger. But the other isn’t what Eddie ordered.
She walks them to Wyatt, and her tattoos turn upside down as the plates flip over, dropping all of their contents onto his head and spread all the way down to his lap. He
