Page 27 of Resting Grump Face
That getaway car sounds awfully tempting right now. I open my eyes back up and look around the room, painfully aware that it must sound like my services are up for sale. The guy with the yellow car, and equally fashionable hair, gives me his most disgustingly inappropriate smile and wink. His date/girlfriend/baddest bitch seems not to notice or if she does, she must be used to his antics and ignores them.
I get up without saying a word and am about to leave when Ryker gently puts his hand on the small of my back. The brief touch is enough to turn me into a deer staring into headlights. He leans in for a kiss but stops short and whispers into my ear instead, “I will tell on you.”
A huff escapes through my nose. “The last time that worked was in third grade and my parents were still alive to actually be told anything.”
Ryker, with all his smug Rykerness, takes a seat at the other end of the table and brandishes his phone. Olivia’s contact is open, ready to dial.
“You wouldn’t…”
He doesn’t say another word, just leans back into the chair with one arm across his chest, propping the other arm up so his hand can frame his stupid face like some kind of cover model.
Only seconds go by, but they’re enough for me to think of at least a dozen ways to take revenge on him for this. After all, I’m still missing a bunch of clothing items to complete my collection.Except, for that, I’d have to get him naked again, which no, no. Not even I am that stupid.
“So,” I say when reluctantly sitting back down, “you found my CV. Are you spying on me? You’re probably breaking a dozen laws by having my internet activity monitored.”
Ryker leans forward and for a moment I think I can smell my own scent on him. It’s weird.
“Speaking of breaking the law,” he interrupts my thoughts, “I believe you stole not only my pants but also my phone. Reckon I could get you arrested for that?”
“I wish you would. I’d prefer prison over being here with you.”
The guy from the table next to us is still staring, and I am not sure if I close one more button on my blouse because of him or the other creep threatening my arrest. I look at my handbag and notice that it’s the same one I used when going to Olivia’s wedding, so I reach for it and indeed find the phone Ryker is talking about. With all the turmoil of the last couple of days, I must have forgotten all about it. I place it on the table between us.
“Come and work for me and you can keep it.” He slides the device back using his (maybe not all that) dainty hands.
“I already have a phone. Plus, mine has a cat with a bloody knife on the case, so…” I produce my phone from my purse and wave it through the air.
“Fitting,” he acknowledges, “but you don’t have a phone like this.”
We are interrupted by our server who greets us, hands us the menu and asks what drinks we would like to order.
“I’ll have a beer and he’ll have some champagne,” I answer before Ryker can say anything.
The server looks at him questioningly, but Ryker just nods and leans back in his chair again. Next to us, another server isbusy getting scolded by Mrs. Baddest Bitch for the temperature of her cocktail, which she has almost finished entirely. To appease her, he offers to bring a new one on the house.
I reach for the phone and turn it over in my hand. If I had to describe it, I’d say it looks outdated. Almost as if it comes with Snake pre-installed.
“It’s a genie in a bottle,” Ryker explains and runs his hand through his hair. Hair that looks like a personal stylist spent two hours working on it to make him the picture model for a cologne ad. $ex by Chanel. It’s all very tragic really, because most likely no one spent any time whatsoever doing his hair. “You call the genie and he’ll take care of whatever wish you have.”
I’m a little dumbfounded. It’s as if I am caught in a poorly directed James Bond knock-off. “So you’re saying, I press the green button on here, tell‘the genie’my wish and it’ll come true.”
“Pretty much.”
“So I could theoretically use this to hire a hitman to get rid of you?”
“I might have said this before, but I think it’s concerning that your first thought always goes straight to murder. Furthermore, I’m afraid they stopped doing contract killings some time ago. But as long as it’s within legal boundaries and physical laws…”
Interesting.
I take the phone, press the button and before it can even beep, there’s a friendly voice on the other line inquiring how they can be of assistance today.
“Uhh, hi,” I stutter. “Yeah, I’d like to order a stripper.” My eyes shoot over to Ryker, whose eyebrows appear to have a second configuration in which they express surprise instead of the usual grumpiness. Then my eyes move to the guy at the table to the left who is now making a V with his index and middle finger while running his tongue between them and giving me yet another cartoonish wink.
“Certainly,” the voice answers.
“Actually, no, make that ten strippers. For Monday afternoon. Send them to Peter Sake at the Forever Young Foundation. The office is located at… uhhh…”
A moment later, the anonymous voice states the address of my former workplace.
