Page 124 of Songbird: Black Kite
“It was nothing,” I said, shrugging awkwardly.
“I know you think that,” she replied, looking at me with seriousness. “But it was absolutely something.”
I frowned, tilting my head to one side as I tried to gauge the tone of the conversation.
Because Wren seemed pissed.
“I just wanted to make her happy, Bird.”
“I know, Hawk. I get that. But we talked about you buying her affections.”
“I didn’t spend a dime,” I insisted, holding my hands up. “I literally just made a phone call to an acquaintance.”
“Well, what’s just a phone call to you is a life-changing event for a thirteen-year-old girl. Please, try to rein it in, alright?”
Shaking my head, I stared at her in disbelief.
“I don’t understand what the problem is, Wren. She likes the band. I know the guys, so I called them up.”
“The problem, Hawk,” she said, her words low, but filled with venom, “is that you used your connections and celebrity to give her something that no other kid in this state could possibly have. That’s damaging.”
“How is giving her something awesome damaging? I may have only been a parent for a hot minute, but I thought that was the idea. Give them all the shit you never got.”
“That is,” Wren started, then paused, looking around and noticing the wait staff standing by the kitchen door, staring. “Listen, I don’t want to hash this out publicly. This is supposed to be a pleasant evening.” She sounded like she thought the whole idea of a pleasant evening with me was a joke. “We can talk about it later.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
We didn’t speak again until the waiter came back over, standing next to the table in his vest and tie, ready to take our order. I ordered the ribeye with baked potato and a side of grilled veg.
Then it was Wren’s turn, but instead of placing her order, she stared at the menu, her nose scrunched up in concentration as she fidgeted in her seat.
“Do you have a question about the menu?” the server asked, his tone bored.
“It’s just...a lot,” she finally said, her gaze flicking to me and then back down to the leather folder in her hands.
It took me a second, but I finally caught on to what her issue was.
“Bring us an order of the lasagna,” I said, pulling the menu out of her hands and handing it back to the waiter. “And the pan seared halibut. We’ll also take the lamb chops, medium, and a second ribeye, same as the first order. Thanks.”
He stared at me in shock, his mouth open like a fish, before he finally nodded and hustled back to the kitchen to place our order.
“What the hell was that?” Wren demanded, her own face a bit shocked.
“You were having trouble deciding, so I just got you a little of everything.”
“That’s ridiculous, Hawk. We don’t need all that food! We’ll never eat it.”
“So you eat what you like and take the rest home. Everyone loves leftovers.”
She just stared at me, the cute little furrow between her eyebrows making me want to reach out and touch it.
“Hawk.” Her voice was softer this time. “It’s just too much. I can’t—I mean, you don’t have to—”
“Bird,” I said, cutting her off. “I told you I was taking you on a date, so that’s what I’m doin’.”
She frowned again, her eyes narrowed at me before she heaved a sigh and looked away.
