Page 61 of Curveball
Ben chooses this moment to return with our drinks, and our conversation takes a pause. My curiosity—it’s just revving up.
Ben hands Priya her glass with a frilly paper umbrella. When he drops a paper coaster in front of me and then sets my drink on it, I say, “Ben, my man, we’re going to need another round, pronto, and probably food to go with it.”
Without comment, he puts our drink order into the tablet, adds the super-sized appetizer sampler we decide on, and then he’s gone again, without a backward glance. Priya watches him stroll away.
When she turns back to the table, I point over my shoulder in the direction Ben walked, then plop my elbows on the table and drop my chin into my hands. I’m all ears.
“Time to fess up, sista.”
Priya’s sigh is deep.
“Maybe if I have a boyfriend, Oz will move on and just let me do my job.”
“Really not his MO, though, is it, taking the high road?”
Priya scowls. “Nope. It’s really not, damn him.”
Not the Oscar we both knew and hated. Not unless his personality’s done a one-eighty since the last time we were in contact.
“So, I’ve got to know what brought this on,” I say. “Is he just being his usual prickish self, or are you helping him take his clothes off, as well as dressing him in style?”
Priya drops her head to the table. “There may have been a kiss,” she moans. It’s muffled, but there’s nothing wrong with my hearing. “And I don’t want to talk about it,” she continues. “I know it’s gonna go south, whatever it is—there’s no way to avoid it. So”—she lifts her head and looks me dead in the eye—“I just need to know you’re going to be there for me when it does.”
I reach across the table and trap her hand in mine.
“Oh, sweetie, you are my ride or die. Of course, I’ll be there for you when the asshole breaks your heart again.”
She chuffs out a laugh, as I hoped she would, and even if it’s a little weak, she made it to the other side of her pity party without a downpouring of tears. I was there for her the last time he wrecked her, and if need be, I’ll be there again this time—to knee him in the balls.
The bit of humor seems to have revived her, and she visibly shakes off her troubles then gives me a grin like she’s positively over it, and stares at me, hard.
“All right, Palmer, now we’re moving on to you. You activated the bat signal, and even though you managed to derail our conversation with my crap, I’ve waited on pins and needles all day for you to come clean. Is this a rant, an intervention, or do I need a shovel? I mean, I don’t own one, but I have a gardening trowel.”
Oh, Pree. She may have just piled a load of shit on our girls’ night out, but she has no idea what I am about to unload on her. I rip the Band-Aid right off the jagged wound.
“Alejandro is on a tirade again for me to move back to California.”
With that handful of words, my anger is already spiking. Her eyes go big and round.
“Well, shit.”
I nod.Yep.
“Wait, there’s more.”
“Is this the part where you tell me why we’re drinking our dinner?”
I reach for my glass, but it’s empty. Ben hasn’t delivered our next round yet, or the food we’ll need so we don’t slither out the door when we’re finished.
“First, we have to actually be drinking. I’ll be right back.” I grab our empties and escape to the bar.
Minutes later, I’ve relieved Ben of our appetizer plate, and I’m somewhat but not quite ready to tackle the hard subject. I stare at Priya across our little table.
“His darling son is being transferred closer to home, so he wants . . .” I can’t even finish.
“Whoa, whoa! You’re not moving, are you?”
“Of course, I’m not moving!” I insist, definitelynotusing my inside voice. “First, there’s no way in hell I’m getting mixed up with that family again. Second, there’s no way in hell I’m getting mixed up with that family again. And third?—”
