Page 209 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
Brad scoffed.
“Forget I mentioned it,” he said. “I am serious, though. It looks bad for me if you are overweight.”
“Well,” I said, “I guess it’s a good thing that I’m not officially your girlfriend, huh?”
Brad raised his eyebrows at me.
“I’m not sure why you are so upset, babe,” he said. “Let’s just forget I mentioned this. I didn’t want tonight to start off this way.”
“Fine,” I said. I agreed to drop the conversation only because I didn’t want to fight in the middle of the restaurant. Inside, I was fuming about his comments. If he was trying to win me back, this wasn’t the way.
The waiter brought over our bread. I grabbed a piece from the bread basket and buttered it. I was tempted to eat the whole damn thing just to spite Brad, but I didn’t.
We had small talk until our dinner arrived. Mostly Brad talked about his gym in Tampa and compared it to the new one in Miami.
“It’s going to be a billion times better,” he said. “Especially without Jessica around.” I could tell by the way that he spoke about her that they ended things on a sour note. I deducted that she probably broke up with him. If only I could have been a fly on the wall for that.
The waiter brought out our dinner. My shrimp scampi looked amazing, with big, plump shrimp served upon a bed of angel hair pasta. Brad began to cut his steak. He stopped and threw his hands up in the air.
“Goddammit,” he said. “I said medium and this is medium rare!” His voice boomed throughout the restaurant. I looked around and sure enough, the other patrons were staring at our table. My cheeks flushed pink. I was completely embarrassed by his outburst.
“Brad,” I hissed. “Lower your voice.”
He looked at me in surprise. I had never spoken to him in that tone before, but I had had enough. Between his comments about my weight and his attitude, I was beginning to think it was a mistake to come here. The waiter scurried back to our table. I could tell by the look on his face that he was uncomfortable and worried about Brad’s inevitable confrontation.
“Sir, is there a problem?” the waiter asked politely.
“Yes, there is,” Brad said. His voice was still heated. Despite my attempts to quiet him down, he would not listen to me.
“This is medium rare,” Brad said, emphasizing the word “rare”. “I ordered medium. You told them medium, right? I assume you’re not that incompetent.”
“Brad!” I exclaimed. It was one thing if he talked down to me, but another if he talked that way to a stranger in public.
“Sir, I did order your steak medium,” the waiter said. “I apologize. I can take this back into the kitchen and have them cook it further.”
Brad shook his head.
“No way,” he said. “I know what they do to food when people complain. I’m not about to have any of your cooks spit on my steak.”
I threw my napkin on the table and rose from my chair.
“That is enough,” I told him. “I’m done with this dinner.”
Both Brad and the waiter looked at me.
“Tiffany,” Brad said, “Sit down. You are making a scene.”
I laughed as I picked up my purse from the chair next to me.
“I am making a scene?” I questioned, laughing a bit. “I don’t think so. You know what, Brad? It was a mistake coming here to meet you. I should have known better.”
“Tiffany!” Brad stood up. “Please, don’t leave. I’m sorry about getting pissed off about my steak, but it wasn’t my fault. It’s these assholes who can’t cook a steak correctly. How about we just leave here together and go somewhere else?”
I shook my head.
“It’s not these people, Brad,” I told him. “It’s you.”
I turned to the waiter next.
