Page 58 of Bring You Back

It’s too fucking loud in here. What was I thinking?

I’m about to get back up and leave when our waitress waltzes over with a grin too happy for this type of morning. The growl from my stomach and the accompanying wave of nausea are also pretty convincing at keeping my ass in this seat.

Marcy, reads the name pinned to her black top. She’s new. She’s pretty. Black-framed glasses, long brown hair tied up in a ponytail, showing off her small, delicate facial features. And as soon as Banks lays his eyes on her, I gear up for his flirting spectacle that’s about to ensue, followed by her inevitable shut down. I can already tell this girl’s too good for him.

“Ohh,” he says to her, perking up and sitting straighter. “Where’d you come from?”

Marcy points her pen over her shoulder. “The back.”

I laugh to myself as Banks makes a face toward the back, then beams up at her. “Well, you belong here now. Dude, get her a chair.”

I chuckle as he motions at me while keeping his eyes locked on hers. “Lay off. She’s working.”

“It’s okay,” Marcy excuses. “He’s not the first to offer me a seat.”

“Can I be the last?”

Well, damn.That genuine delivery almost makes me put in a good word for him.

I raise my brows expectantly at Marcy as she stares down at Banks before turning a shy smile to her notepad.

“You need abreak,” he insists next, which brings Marcy back to the moment, her face and posture all business.So close.

She takes our orders, then scurries along. Itskat Banks. “You almost had her, man.”

“I’ll get her. Give me time.”

“A girl like her isn’t gonna just fuck you.”

He waves me off. “We’ll see.”

“I won’t be seeing anything,” I say with a disgusted look.

“Youknowwhat I mean.”

Banks keeps talking, but I’m inside my head, my vision lost to the grooves in this table. When I finally look up, I do a double-take at the sight of Camille and Tommy at pick up. Tommy takes a bag of take-out off the counter, and when they turn around, Camille’s eyes lock with mine before I can look back down.

I try to hide the scowl on my face, but everything seems to come through with this damn hangover.

“I don’t think he’s happy to see us,” Tommy notes to Camille as they reach our table.

“That makes two of us,” Banks says back before going back to eyeballing Marcy as she makes the rounds.

I hold Tommy’s stare, mainly to avoid meeting Camille’s, and he asks me, “You okay?” His tone is stiff, but his brows dip in concern.

“Yeah,” I say as Marcy maneuvers between him and Camille to set down our order. One large water a piece, a stack of French toast with a side of hash browns for Banks, a heaping plate of scrambled eggs for me. “Thanks.”

“What time do you get off?” Banks asks her, and Camille jumps in.

“Oh, he won’t get you off.”

It’s simple, but it does the trick. Marcy’s eyes widen as she rushes away and Banks glowers at Camille who stares back at him with a smug grin.

Don’t smile.

I use this opportunity to snatch the ketchup bottle before Banks can, but he catches my movement and pulls it out of my hand. I pull it back out of his and squirt a generous amount all over my eggs.

“Easy.”

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