Page 35 of When Fences Fall
“I’d like to have some coffee too, sweetie,” he continues, laying it on thick.
Completely ignoring him, I pass the note to the kitchen and am on my way to return to the bar when Karina intercepts me and steps right across from him with a coffee pot in her hands.
“Here’s your coffee, Dick.”
Dick stops impatiently tapping his fingers, and his face falls. Those two don’t share any love between each other. Her voice drips with venom, and his reaction is immediate. He looks stunned, like someone punched him in the gut. He’s clearly counting on me to cover his fragile ego this time.
“Nora already took my order, so she’s my server.” His whiny voice makes me want to gag.
“Nora is the owner,” Karina explains in a patronizing tone as if speaking to a child. “She’s just helping me because I’m overwhelmed. So now you’ve got me. Here’s your coffee, Dick.” She pushes the mug toward him, splashing the liquid on the counter and into his lap. “Oh,” she starts with a fallen face that turns into a subtle grin. “Look what you’ve done. Had a little accident there, Dick?”
He sits up with a half snort, quick to defend himself. “I didn’t do anything!” he cries out. “You spilled it.”
She leans closer to him, and with her eyes wide open, whispers loudly, “Are you nervous about something, Dick?”
“I am not!” he cries out like a snotty child again, looking around. Like he’s expecting someone to jump out from behind a booth and argue with him.
Karina quickly straightens her back with a wide smile. “That’s okay, Dick. Happens to everyone,” she says loudly for everyone to hear, lowering her eyes at the counter. “No need to blame it on the coffee.”
His face is reddening with every passing moment as hisanger boils. He’s a breath away from blowing up. But Dick will do anything to maintain his role as a charming all-American man—a high school hockey star, a valedictorian, the golden boy of the town. So, of course, in the blink of an eye, he swallows back his rage and his face shifts into a friendly one.
“I like your sense of humor, Karina,” he says, pointing his finger at her and grabbing the mug. “Always have.”
Karina’s smile drops a little before it’s blooming again full force. “Sure you do. Drink your coffee, Dick. I made it special, just for you.” She departs, but not before she sends him a meaningful wink.
He nearly chokes on the first sip he takes. There’s nothing in the coffee but coffee, but he doesn’t know that. So every time he sips from the mug, he’ll be wondering if she spat into it, but he’s too proud to show his fear.
And I can’t wait to see him struggle.
14
Jericho
This situation is bizarre. I sip my coffee and watch the scene unfold from behind the mug rim. I even forget about my digit throbbing with pain after the friendly chat with Moon.
I didn’t like the douchebag the moment she mentioned his name and the role he played in Nora’s life, but once he entered the diner, a next level wave of loathing came over me. The whole atmosphere in the diner shifted the moment he showed his face. He’s clearly not welcome here but keeps missing the memo. The way he walked in and took the spot at the counter. The way he spoke to Nora. The way he looked at her. Everything irked me. The dude is bad news, Moon was right.
My suspicions were confirmed when a waitress walked up to play tricks on him. I have a feeling she came to save Nora. I thought that maybe my witch was still hung up on him, but judging by the current situation, it might be the opposite.Interesting.
The douchebag,Dick, lost some of his bravado after the dark-haired waitress spilled coffee on him and accused him of having dick problems, which was hilarious and made me think that he actually does have issues. Otherwise, why wouldn’t he just brush it off?
He’s sitting a chair away from me, totally focused on Nora who’s moving around the diner. His beady eyes are trained on her every single movement while she’s fluttering between the tables and talking to people. Every time she bends over to get something from under the counter, his pig eyes turn shiny as they focus on her behind. And this alone makes my skin crawl.
When she runs to the kitchen and comes close to us, he pulls himself up, leaning his torso on the counter.
“How have you been, Nora? You look exhausted. What’s all this gnome-mining crap you’re piling onto yourself? You look like a Christmas tree.” He leans back, smugness oozing from his every pore. He’s acting like he’s conquered her territory, a space where she should feel relaxed and at home.
My hand clenches into a tight fist on my thigh, knuckles whitening with the force of my grip.
Nora’s shoulders snap into a rigid stance as she hesitates momentarily before heading to the kitchen. She returns with a loaded plate and strides over to me, determination in her every step.
“Here you go.”
A mighty plate of steaming meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and veggies looks especially delicious to someone who’s been surviving on Hot Pockets for the majority of his life, and my mouth waters. Grabbing a fork placed next to me, I pull the plate closer.
“Grandma approved?” I ask, trying to take her mind off the douchebag to my left.
“One hundred percent,” she replies, her voice taking on a hint of relief.
