Page 97 of All the Forbidden Things
After a day of trawlingthe market and shops in the cold, Dan and I find ourselves in the warm pub we met at this morning. My cheeks are burning, mainly because I’m on my second cosmopolitan. It’s happy hour, so we bought two each.
It’s the first time I’ve seen Dan since I got back from the States, and the first time since he came out to visit me in September. Although he’s asked about my job, he’s avoided any mention of Max and Whitney’s situation, but I just know he can barely contain himself and is bursting to ask.
“So, girlfriend, I know you’ve signed an ND and yadda, yadda, yadda, but can’t you give mesomethingon the sitch?”
I lean back and stretch my arms nonchalantly above my head, which, thanks to the vodka in the cosmo, isn’t as painful of a manoeuvre as it has been since breaking my ribs. I yawn, drawing out my response before asking, “The sitch?”
“Don’t mess with me, Billie. The sitch with your boss and his wife. Girl, it’s myjobto find out these things, but as yourfriend, I should know them, and this is me talking to you as your friend. Your verybestfriend.”
“Dan, I love you, but I can’t. Your job just makes it all too complicated.”
“So, there is a sitch then?”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve spent the last two years with adults who don’t talk in Urban Dictionary language or with children who’ve yet to learn such a language even exists, so if by sitch you mean situation, then, yes, there’s a sitch.”
“You’re such an old lady. And I knew it. Finish your drink, I’m getting us another. You said in your text you had so much to tell me, well, I’m all ears, darling.”
I watch Dan’s lean frame wind around tables to get to the bar. Appreciative eyes, belonging to both males and females, follow him. My phone is sitting face down on the table next to my drink. I placed it that way to keep me from looking at it. I’m not sure what I’ve been expecting it to do. Max is my boss, nothing more. It’s my day off, and there’s absolutely no reason for him to get in touch.
As Dan sits down in the padded leather bench style seat next to me, I raise my brows and ask, “Where are the drinks?”
He taps my nose. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, princess. Thesitchis all in hand, drinks are on their way. Now, talk to me.” He emphasises the word sitch by childishly widening his eyes as he says it. Feeling equally as childish, I roll mine when he does this.
“I have a major crush on Max Young and I think he likes me too,” I blurt. “Well, at least he did like me, but now his wife’s back, and even though he reckons he’s divorcing her, I’ve actually no clue what the fuck is going on or what I’m doing.”
“Oh, Billie, please don’t tell me he promised to divorce her for you just to get in your knickers and you fell for it?”
My whole face screws up at what he’s just said. “What? No.” I shake my head.
One of the barmen appears carrying a tray with four more cosmos on it.
“Thanks, Rick,” Dan says and winks at the waiter.
Rick tucks the round tray under his arm and leans his hip against the table. “So, do I get your number or what?” he asks with a smile and an accent I can’t quite place.
He has dark curly hair, he has olive skin, and his eyes are the greenest I’ve ever seen.
“What d’ya reckon, should I give Ricky here my number? Are we up for some three-way fun later or are you too tired after all the shopping we’ve done?”
I look away and again roll my eyes. Daniel has a habit of passing me off as his girlfriend when he’s not interested in the person hitting on him.
“Wait, you’re together?”
Rick sounds hurt, and I feel sorry for the poor kid.
“Sometimes,” Dan tells him. “It’s kind of an I’m-straight-for-her situation. You know, when she’s desperate, I help her out.”
Rick looks between us, pulls what looks like a business card from his back pocket, and says, “Well, when you’ve finished saving the lonely females of the world, maybe you might give me a call.” He places the card on the table and leaves.
“You are such a dick.”
“I know, but he looked older behind the bar. When he walked over here, I realised he’s a child. Not my thing. He’ll turn twenty-one, realise his life will be less complicated if he likes pussy, not dick, and then leave with my heart. Now, continue . . .”
I finish my drink while Dan slides another three in front of me. I slide one back, so we have two each lined up.
“Whitney Federov was having an affair with Alix Gardener—”
“Well, hellooooo. I think the whole world had that one figured out. Considering they’ve got history, why else was she in that car with him?”
