Page 61 of Kiss Collector
“Hi, guys,” says Jacquie, overly chipper. “What can I getyou to drink? Wait, let me guess.” She points to Zeb. “A chocolate malt.” Now me. “And a root beer float?”
Those are our all-time favorites. Zeb bounces in his seat and we look at Dad, who laughs. He must have told her before we came. It annoys me for some reason. Like everyone at his work thinks he’s Father of the Year or something.
“Actually,” I say, “I just want a Coke.”
The waitress’s smile falters, but she recovers quickly. “Sure. Be right back.”
Dad gives me a funny look. “Too old for a float now?”
I shrug, even more annoyed because I really want that stupid float. Jacquie comes back to drop off two trivia remote boxes, still looking us over with that big, pretty smile, then leaves again.
Dad rumples Zeb’s hair. “Get whatever you guys want. I’ve got a few phone calls to make—a waiter called in sick right before you got here—but I’ll be back.”
We busy ourselves with trivia, watching the big screens and answering with our remotes. One of the bar back guys passes us in a black apron, carrying a black bin, and he catches my eye, faltering. I blink in recognition. It’s Elliott Fields from English class, the lanky, camo-wearing break-dancer. His hair, like pale-yellow straw, is sticking out from the sides of his restaurant-issued hat.
“Hey,” I say.
He holds the empty bin against his waist. “How you doin’, Zae?” He glances toward the doors where Dad went. “You know Xander Monroe?”
“He’s our dad.”
Elliott looks between Zeb and me, nodding, and his face seems to register something that he doesn’t say out loud. I wonder what he’s thinking. Does he want to tell me that Dad’s a jerk? It seems like he’s nice to his employees, but Elliott’s expression makes me wonder.
Jacquie brings us an appetizer of fried onion straws with special sauce, and Elliott backs away, giving me a wave as he goes to clear a table.
I get ribs and Zebby gets a giant burger. Dad is able to steal ten minutes to sit down with us while we eat. I’m thankful because I know my brother needs this. And the food is amazing.
When Dad gets up to deal with a problem in the kitchen, I go to the restroom. More people are starting to show up now. Happy hour. We can’t stay much longer. When I come out of the bathroom, there’s a huge group at the hostess stand, so I go around the other way to get back to the bar. I’ll have to cut through the waitress station, but Dad won’t care.
As I’m passing the registers in the server alley I spot Dad through the window of the swinging door, in front of his office. He’s standing close to our waitress, closer than is appropriate, gazing down at her. I stop and frown. Her head is tilted up to him, still with that smile, and she puts her hand on his arm. Everything about them screams intimacy and closeness. My heart rips. My throat dries and I can’t swallow.
It’s her. Jacquie. She’s the other woman.
“Yo, you okay?” The soft voice is Elliott, right beside me. He glances through the door and blanches as he sees what I saw.
I try to sayI’m fine, but it comes out a dry croak.
My face flushes with heat under his gaze, followed by a sickly cold feeling. I turn from his worried face, dizzy, and find my way back to the booth in a fog. I grab my purse. Zeb is staring up at the trivia screen, biting his lip, ready to answer.
“It’s time to go,” I tell him in a trembling voice. “Say bye to Dad.”
“Huh?” He doesn’t look away from the screen.
“Zeb!” My shout gets his attention. “It’s time to go. It’s getting busy. They need this booth.”
“Aw, man.”
My dinner is pressing its way back up into my esophagus, and I feel hot. It’s too loud in here. I can’t get her smile out of my mind. The smile of a woman without major worries. I haven’t seen Mom smile like that in over a year. I nearly jump out of my skin when Dad and Jacquie are suddenly there.
“How was everything?” she asks brightly.
“Great!” Zeb tells her.
I fumble for my drink and suck down the last dregs as an excuse not to look at them. I can feel their presence, these two smiling people who now live together happily, while Zeb, Mom, and I are brokenhearted in our crappy apartment.
“Were your ribs okay, Zae?” Jacquie inquires.
I cannot look at her. My cloudy eyes go to Dad, but I can’t focus.
