Page 56 of Pretty Wild

“What can I get you to drink?” Ellie asks when she approaches.

“Sweet tea,” Ryan requests eagerly.

Ellie laughs. “I’ve created a monster.” Then, she glances at me.

“Same.”

“Special is country-fried steak with all the fixin’s or chicken salad on a croissant with fresh fruit and coleslaw. I’ll grab your drinks and be back for your orders.”

Ellie heads to the counter and fills two glasses with ice and tea. I take a quick glance around the room, finding most of the tables and booths full. Considering it’s near lunch hour, you can tell we’re officially jumping into the busy summer tourist season. Fortunately, no one really seems to be paying much attention to us. Sure, a few of the locals wave and send me a curious glance, but no one approaches the table.

Yet.

“Do you know what you’re having?” Ryan asks, looking over the menu.

“Probably the chicken salad special. I don’t usually eat too heavy for lunch, otherwise I’d have the country-fried steak. It’s always delicious.”

She nods, replacing the menu in the napkin and condiment holder. “I think I’ll do the same. Usually I wouldn’t have the croissant, but I’m on vacation, right? Might as well live a little,” she says with a chuckle.

“Live a little.” I don’t know why those three little words hold so much weight, but they do. It reminds me of what Dale said earlier.

“All right, did you two decide?” Ellie asks, setting two glasses of sweet tea on the table.

“Chicken salad special, please,” Ryan requests.

“Same.”

“You two are easy,” she replies, jotting our orders down and offering a smile. “It’ll be up shortly.” Then she’s gone again, stopping by other tables and checking on patrons.

We’re both silent, and honestly, the quiet doesn’t bother me. I’m that kind of guy naturally. I sit back and watch. Always observing.

“What do you think of these sandals?” Ryan thrusts her leg up by my leg so I can see her footwear.

“Umm…they’re nice?”

She grins. “I got them at Target. Aren’t they cute? And, they were only sixteen dollars. Can you believe that? Most of the sandals I wear cost at least five hundred,” she informs me.

If I was taking a drink, I would have spit it out. “Five hundred dollars? For shoes?”

She shrugs, as if it were no big deal. “Everything is expensive in LA.”

“But five hundred dollars expensive? My leather, steel-toed work boots don’t even cost that.” Jesus, I can’t imagine spending that kind of money on fashion.

She sighs, placing her foot back down on the floor. “It’s all about who you know, who you blow, and who you wear out there. It’s just…different. I’ve lived that lifestyle my entire life. It’s all I know. But when I’m here, it’s just so simple, and I don’t mean that to be an insult. No one cares what your last name is and what they can get out of you. It’s a refreshing change. Honestly, I like it.”

I consider her words for a few moments. We lead such different lifestyles. Everyone knows everything about everyone in Pine Village, but because it’s a small town, not because we’re being photographed and publicly put on display for everyone’s entertainment. She’s lived a life of just that. Public.

“I guess I never really thought about the other side of the fishbowl. Sure, everyone knows you here, but I think it would beworse having them know all about you without actually knowing you. Does that make sense?” I find myself saying before taking a long drink of sweet tea.

“Totally,” she replies, running her fingers through her long, blond ponytail that’s hanging over her right shoulder. “The fishbowl is the best way to describe it. My life is so public, everyone can see it looking in.”

Ellie arrives, interrupting our conversation. “Here ya go. Two chicken salad sandwiches on croissants, coleslaw, and fresh fruit. Can I top off your teas?” she asks, noticing both glasses are almost half empty.

“That would be great, Ellie, thank you,” Ryan replies politely.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, scurrying off to grab the pitcher of tea.

Ryan takes a bite of her sandwich and groans. “Oh my goodness, this is amazing.” As she chews, I spot a little drop of chicken salad smeared across her lip, and all I want to do is reach over and wipe it away. Maybe even with my tongue.

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