Page 45 of My So-Called Perfect Life
A group of people standing in the center of the bar shifts, and I can see who is sitting at the table I’m delivering to. The two girls who were here with Danielle last weekend.
My eyes instinctively search over the crowd, trying to see if I can spot Danielle’s blonde hair.
“She’s not here,” the dark-haired one says as I approach.
Placing the plates down on the table, I ignore her comment and smile. “Here you go. Can I get you anything else at the moment?”
“We could use a few minutes of your time when things die down a bit,” the blonde says.
“Why?” My voice sounds harsh, even to my own ears. I didn’t intend for it to come out like that, but it was the first thing that popped into my mind.
“We want to talk to you about Danielle.”
“What else could there be left to talk about?”
I don’t know if I can handle any more bomb drops from this woman. There’s no way she’s pregnant—at least, not from me. My STD screening came back negative for everything else, so there’re no more surprises there.
The brunette cocks her head to the side and gives me a small shrug of her shoulder. “Just hear us out.”
Evan’s voice in my head shouts at me to stay away from this, but the devil on my shoulder wants to know what they want to talk about. He wins.
“Okay. If you’re still here when things wind down, we can talk.”
* * *
The girls have patience,I’ll give them that. The crowd is finally starting to thin as closing time approaches
“Did you see who is sitting at table eleven?” Roxy asks as she washes mixing tins.
“They’re waiting for me. Caught me about an hour ago and said they want to talk.”
She laughs. “This should be interesting.”
“Should I get my phone handy?” Aiden asks. “If something’s about to go down, I want to make sure we get video this time.”
“Want to work the afternoon shift for the next two weeks?” I ask.
He puts his phone back in his pocket.
“That’s what I thought.”
My mind is whirling with a thousand different things they could want to talk to me about as I cross the bar.
I pull up a chair from another table. “What can I do for you, ladies?”
The brunette taps her fingers on the table, clearly sizing me up. “So, do you sleep with every girl you meet in this bar.”
The blond elbows her in the ribs.
“Ouch,” she shouts, rubbing her side. “What was that for?”
“Don’t be a bitch.” She elbows her again. “And, don’t slut shame.”
“I’m not,” Friend-One says. “But he did sleep with Dani half-a second after meeting her. I just want to know if he’s a douche. It’s a reasonable question.”
The blonde looks at me. “Having a healthy sex-life isn’t a crime. No judgement here.”
I have no idea what to make of all this, but it screams unnecessary drama to me. “Was there something specific you need, or are you just here to cast judgement?”
