Page 44 of Resting Grump Face
“What would you have done to the guy on the pier?” I ask. “I know you were already plotting something.”
Sienna shrugs. “Hard to say. I probably would have tried to hide the used condom in his pocket. Or I somehow would have made him spend a day with you.” She chuckles to herself.
Yeah, you just enjoy yourself… for now. We’ll see who’s laughing when you have to listen to me sing along to my favorite ‘80s songs in the car.
“We’re here,” Miles says as he pulls the car over.
16
SIENNA
It’s not surprising that Mr. Grumpyson has a dark secret.
Alright, maybe it’s not adarksecret, but it is surprising that he has a secret like this: that he cleans local parks. And with a secret identity on top.
There’s really no point in contemplating if that makes him less of a poorly programmed robot and more of a human being though. I am only here for one reason, and that is to save Robyn. Well, and to protect the rest of Haven, I suppose. And to be able to pay rent, of course. So I am only here for three reasons. It’s as simple as that. Whether I have to battle sentient machines or evil hominids doesn’t matter. I already almost made it through the first day with him. Now I just have to survive this dinner and six more days. Totally doable. Well, and then another week for another $5000, but I’ll take it one day at a time.
I look over at Ryker. He is totally doable too, and I’m painfully aware I shouldn’t even entertain thoughts like that. I also wonder if his ex was just at the park with us. Was she the scantily dressed unicorn that made eyes at him? Luckily, a moment later, the car comes to a full stop. I could use adistraction right about now. We get out and I try to take off my costume before Ryker stops me.
“Leave it on. It’s not a terribly formal dinner.” He slides back into his coat again.
I get the feeling he might be lying though. The building in front of us not only looks formal, it looks like it was designed by a team of eccentric architects who just discovered a new, exotic building material called fancium. I have never seen anything like it. The entrance is guarded by a team of extravagantly dressed bouncers who could double as bodyguards for the King of England, or maybe even Elton John. There are chandeliers the size of small planets, and a red carpet so plush, you could take a nap on it. At the end of the lobby, a door opens with a gong which was probably recorded by some famous monk specifically for this purpose. When we step inside, we find ourselves in a restaurant that looks like it was plucked straight out of a fairy tale in which a mad hatter not only designs hats but also furniture. The chairs are upholstered in the softest of leather that I wouldn’t be surprised if it was sourced from unicorn hides. There’s also what appears to be literal trash adorning the walls. Probably to give you the feeling of dining in the middle of a contemporary art gallery.
To my surprise, the restaurant is empty except for a server who greets us without a word and then guides us to our table. A young man gets up when he sees us coming. He shakes my hand, bows a little, says that it’s nice to meet me, and sits down again without even acknowledging my Prince Not That Charming.
I think I like him already.
The brother, I mean.
“Who are you, and what have you done with Roman Grayson?” Ryker asks as we sit down next to each other.
So this is Roman. He is younger than Ryker, maybe in his early to mid-twenties, and has the kind of face that makes youwant to pinch his cheeks and tousle his hair, even though he is a grown man and not a lost puppy.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, his eyes fixed on the cutlery before him.
Ryker looks over at me. “This is Roman, my brother, who hates nothing more than touching people or to be touched by other people.”
“That’s not entirely true.” His brother shakes his head. “There have been times during which I have hated you more than that.”
When I can’t hold back a giggle, he looks at me for a split second, then his eyes dart back down again.
“For example, when you force me to eat at places like this.” Roman looks around and shudders visibly.
Ryker chuckles along with me. “Well, I’m sorry, but you can’t eat fast food every day of the week.”
“I should today,” Roman disagrees. “On Fridays one eats at Fry-day’s. It should be prohibited to eat anywhere else on Fridays. Fry-day!” He asserts passionately, and then barely audibly adds, “They make fries just the way I like them.”
“Soggy. Their fries are soggy, and today is Saturday.”
“That’s how you’re supposed to eat them. Crunchy fries are too loud and… crunchy. And today is only Saturday because you postponed ou?—”
Ryker sighs like a worried parent and interrupts his brother with a quick gesture of his hand, then he motions my way. “Roman, this is Sienna. She works for me.”
“Ha!” I say pointedly and adjust my seat a little. “I do not. He’s myclientwho hired me to fix his image. But it’s a pleasure to meet you, Roman.”
His eyes grow bigger and shift from me to Ryker and back. “You should probably quit right now because that sounds like a lost cause.”
Ryker gasps with surprise. “When did you become a stand-up comedian?” he asks, barely hiding a smile. Then he puts his hand on the back of my chair.
