“No problem. Have a good night, ma’am.”
I almost made it.
Two stepsand I would have been out of sight, down the hall toward the employee-only exit.
Cecil’s voice rang out. “Hey, Lou, I meant to ask if I could…Tina?”
Sighing, I turned to face Cecil.
He frowned, glancing up at the exit sign.
A cool look flashed in Cecil’s eyes, turning his affable expression into one of snide derision. Ihatedthat look. Toward the end of our relationship, I’d seen it too often. How had I forgotten that?
“Is there a problem, Tina?” Cecil demanded.
“Sir.” Luis stepped between us.
Cecil stepped forward to shoulder him aside. Luis evaded easily, keeping his broad, stocky form in front of Cecil’s as a barrier. “Sir, if you would, kindly let the lady be.”
“If you would, go fuck yourself,” Cecil snapped, jerking his gaze from me to glare at Luis.
I set my jaw and moved forward. “Luis, it’s alright.”
“Ma’am—”
“No, Luis. It’s okay. I’ll talk with him outside. Cecil, have you paid?”
His lip curled as he looked at me. “Typical. You get an expensive meal, and as soon as I pay, you try to ditch me.”
Luis opened his mouth to speak, but I laid a hand on his arm. “I’ll take that as a yes. Go outside. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Cecil balked.
“Either go outsidenow,or I’ll ask this nice man to call the cops.”
“Bitch,” he muttered, almost too low for me to hear.
Once he was outside, I looked at Luis.
“Ma’am, let me call a cab. You can wait in the manager’s office if you wish.” He offered a smile. “We’ve done it before.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” I patted his arm. “I just wanted to tell you to keep the money I gave you. You earned it, putting up with him all night.”
His eyes widened. “No, I couldn’t—”
“It’s a tip. Keep it.”
He tried again to talk me into waiting for a cab, but I shook my head. I’d need to deal with Cecil eventually, and I’d rather do it here in a public area than have him show up at my house or business again.
I found him in the small parking lot at the end of the block.
A headache pulsed at the base of my skull, the muscles of my shoulders and neck knotted tight.
As I approached, Cecil remained leaning against his obnoxiously big pickup truck. The truck was definitely an extension of his personality. He struck a pose with arms crossed over his chest, and a sneer twisted his usually handsome features into an ugly mask.
“Youalwayshave to make a scene, don’t you, Tina?” He paused for a second, not giving me a chance to respond, but continued. “We were having a perfectly nice time, but you had to bitch about the wine, bitch about the appetizer, bitch about the temperature of your steak.”
“That was you,honey,” I said, cutting in.