Page 58 of Vince
Sydney turns to Julia. “Did he shareanyof them?”
Julia nods. “He gave meoneafter I finished my dinner. But I saw him hide the rest.”
Guilty.
I shrug, adding, “You did make them for me,” as I shrug my selfishness off.
“Well, there’s an easy way to remedy that. I’ll just have to make some for everyone next time.” She looks pointedly at me, reminding me of how Mom used to calmly get her point across when she wanted something.
“I will never complain to more of your baked goodness.”
With that, I join them at the table. Reaching under the table, I squeeze Sydney’s thigh to let her know I appreciate her being here. Then we dig into the delicious meal Vanessa has cooked for us.
Glancing to Sydney as she laughs at another of Julia’s antics, I realize just how right this feels. Oddly enough, having Sydney at the table with us feels as natural as breathing. The conversation ebbs and flows easily as we eat. It’s obvious Sydney and Vanessa are becoming fast friends; they even have some inside jokes I’m not privy to.
I can’t say that it bothers me though; I don’t think I could date anyone my sister doesn’t like. It’s not that I need her approval. It’s more that I don’t have time for anyone who doesn’t accept our situation.
I get squeals of delight when I reveal my news from before. Even though we’re sitting at the table with my sister, Sydney congratulates me with a quick hug and peck to the cheek. If I’d known this is how she’d react, I might have waited until we’re alone to mention it.
Eventually, the conversation turns to their experiences with being a waitress and bartender, and they find they have even more in common. They both joke and commiserate about their experiences with annoying patrons.
“The worst is when a guy thinksyou’reon the menu…” Vanessa throws out there as if this is a daily occurrence.
What. The. Fuck? The hairs on the back of my neck rise as this is the first I’ve heard this complaint.
“Seriously. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve told someone where to go—and how to get there. Though they’re usually harmless and only have their drunken courage to thank for their boldness… it’s annoying as ever.”
“No one shouldeverthink either of you are on the menu,” I insert a little too forcefully. “That’s… just…” I stumble over my words as anger replaces my playful mood.
“Relax, Vin. It happens all the time,” Vanessa assures me. “Usually they’re just trying to show off and flirt in front of their friends. Sometimes, it’s welcomed—other times, I just shut it down.”
“Exactly,” Sydney chimes in. “You’ve seen firsthand what I’ve experienced at the bar the night we met.”
True. Derek did make an ass of himself.
“But the worst is when they don’t take no for an answer. I’ve had to get my boss to politely remind them of their manners a few times.”
My jaw drops as my eyes swing to Vanessa. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of this?”
She points in my direction and swirls a finger at my face. “That. Right there. I handled it, and it wasn’t a problem after.”
“Thank God, we have bouncers for that reason. When someone gets out of control, I just cut them off, and one of the guys stacked with muscles escorts them off the premises. I usually don’t have to worry about it then.” Sydney shakes her head for some reason, and her expression drastically changes to irritation. “Though there have been times they stay pissed and take it out on me the next time they come in.”
“That’s bu…” I glance to Julia and quickly change my word choice, “…malarkey.”
Sydney grins at my impromptu choice of cursing.
I glance to Julia, and she nods in approval. “It is malarkey. But that’s why we have bouncers, so bartenders only have to worry about slinging drinks.”
“I still don’t like it,” I grumble.
“None of us do,” Van sighs. Then she pats my forearm across the table to placate me. “Don’t worry, little brother. The instances are few and far between, so there’s no need to get your panties in a twist.”
“Okay, shorty,” I concede only because there’s no point in causing a scene—especially over something I have no control over. “You’d better not keep it from me next time,” I leave hanging in the air as a warning.
Don’t think for a second I missed the eye roll exchange between my sister and Sydney. Traitors—the whole lot of them, I tell ya. How the hell can I help them if I’m left in the dark?
My thoughts are interrupted when Julia tips her cup, and milk spills across the table between the two of us. On instinct, I throw my napkin over the spill and reach for the extras we always keep on the table for this reason. “Whoa, squirt. Slow down,” I warn as she tries to bolt out of her seat to help clean her mess. “I’ve got this.”
