Текст книги "When We Met"

Автор книги: Christina Lee

Соавторы: Molly McAdams,A. L. Jackson,Tiffany King
сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

The kitchen was buzzing with activity as I walked through the swinging doors that separated the back from the dining area.

“Hey, girl, how they hanging?” Jimmy, one of the line cooks, called out.

“No flies on me,” I responded with my normal answer. Jimmy roared with laughter like it was the first time he’d ever heard me say it. At seventy-six years old, he should be sitting on a porch, people-watching or tinkering with some old car, but instead he was working at Gruby’s. He always said he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he sat at home all day. We were the lucky ones since he kept the kitchen lively and was a blast to have around. He had basically become an honorary grandpa to all the servers, allowing us to pour our college woes out to him. With more wisdom than all of us put together, he had an answer for every dilemma.

Any time the school’s basketball game was on TV, it meant Gruby’s would be packed, and tonight was no exception. Every TV in the restaurant was tuned to the same channel. You could barely hear yourself talk as loud, eager fans erupted in one fashion or another, depending on whether something good or something bad happened to the team.

I followed the game as best I could while I worked, managing to notice each time the announcer would mention number nineteen, which around here, unless you lived under a rock, you knew was Dalton. Judging by the constant mention of his name, it was obvious Dalton was having a great game. Rolling my eyes, I continued to take orders and hand out food. It seemed like there was no escaping Dalton Thompson as long as I was working at a sports bar. I guess I should have considered that when Amanda got me the job here. My old restaurant went belly-up right before the holidays. Nothing says merry Christmas like unemployment. Needless to say, I jumped at the chance to work at Gruby’s. Although right now the job had lost some of its luster.

As my rotten luck would have it, the waitressing gods not only screwed me over, but also kicked me in the teeth that night. Three hours into my shift and an hour after the game ended, the restaurant erupted into loud cheers when a handful of the players walked through the front door, including Dalton, who was leading the show. He grinned at everyone chanting his name and waved like he was the Prince of England or something.

Biting back a groan, I headed to the kitchen to avoid the spectacle.

“What’s going on out there? Did the president of the United States just walk in the door?” Jimmy asked, wiping his hands on the dish towel that was stuck in the waistband of his apron.

I snorted. “I’m not sure he would have gotten that kind of welcome. Some of the team just walked in. You know—the ones who feel they deserve to be worshipped.”

“Sweetheart, you might as well accept that basketball is sacred around here and those that do it well will be worshipped as gods,” Jimmy drawled, winking at me.

“You’re as bad as everyone else. So they can get an orange ball through a hoop, who cares? Let’s see them carry a tray with twelve drinks and two appetizers without dropping it and maybe then I’ll worship them,” I grumbled, grabbing table five’s order before heading back out. I shook my head when I saw that the players now inhabited table seven in my section. Several curse words silently tumbled from my mouth as I spotted the back of Dalton’s head. It was official. The waitressing gods hated me.

chapter four

Dalton

Adrenaline coursed through my veins as the guys and I pushed our way through the double doors of Gruby’s. I owned that court tonight. I’d been in the fucking zone, and I was still completely pumped. At times like this I couldn’t help feeling invincible, which was why I talked the guys into hitting Gruby’s to celebrate. I’d been unable to get Courtney out of my mind all day. Knowing she was at work maybe watching each shot I nailed made me a beast on the court, getting me a triple double for my efforts.

This time when the hostess greeted us, I specifically requested Courtney’s zone. The guys tried to give me shit when I made the request, but I didn’t care. I was bound and determined to get her to acknowledge our past friendship.

She studied the seating chart before answering, “I hope you don’t mind waiting a few minutes.”

“Do what you have to do.”

People I didn’t know began coming over to shake our hands, congratulating us on the win tonight. It was a weird feeling at first, but after two years, I’d gotten used to it. Scanning the area, I smiled when I spotted Courtney on the other side of the restaurant. She was chatting with an older couple. Even with the distance separating us, I could tell her actions were animated and her eyes sparkled. She threw her head back, laughing at something the elderly gentleman said. Last night I’d thought she was pretty, but in a cute way. Seeing her so carefree, I realized she was downright beautiful. I didn’t remember her being this attractive back in school. I found myself envious of the older man. I wanted to be the one to make her laugh like that. I’d never had any trouble getting a girl I was interested in, but right now the only person I wanted was acting like I didn’t exist.

“Your table’s ready, guys,” the hostess said, approaching us.

“Bro, you were fucking insane tonight,” Chad said after we sat down. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re always a badass on the court, but tonight it was like you were channeling Kobe Bryant or something. What was up with that?”

I shrugged modestly. “I don’t know. I was in the zone, I guess.”

“No shit,” Collin agreed, looking up when Courtney approached our table. I flashed a smile, but she didn’t even bother to look at me.

“What can I get you guys?”

My eyes followed her hand that pulled a pad from her slinky apron. Her waist was tiny. I bet I could have circled it with both my hands. I considered trying, but I wasn’t overly convinced she wouldn’t stab me with a steak knife. I brought my eyes back up slowly. I’m not going to lie. They might have lingered on her breasts for a moment before finding her face. I could tell my appraisal hadn’t gone unnoticed. “What can I get you to drink?”

I shifted in my seat, tugging on my jeans that were becoming uncomfortable at the moment. Using my coat to cover the evidence, I willed my mind to think of anything that did not involve the luscious blonde in front of me. It took a second to make my body respond to the images of wrinkly old people in bathing suits. It was a trick I’d learned when I was fourteen and my parents took me to Daytona Beach. It was the only way I could keep from sporting a constant hard-on from all the chicks in bikinis walking around. Trust me, that is not something you want your mother to see.

“I’ll take a Coke,” Collin answered. He looked at me like I was nuts.

“Me, too,” Chad piped in.

“Me three.” I could have kicked my own ass. It sounded funny in my head, but I wished I could have taken it back the moment the words left my mouth.

“Got it. Do you guys know what you want to eat, or do you need a few minutes?”

“I know what I want,” Chad said as he began to rattle off his order.

“I need a few minutes.” I interrupted him before he could finish, picking up a menu that I probably could have recited with my eyes closed.

“Bro, are you kidding? Since when do you not know what you want?”

I kicked him hard in the shin under the table.

“What the fuck, dude?”

Courtney cut her eyes toward me, eyeing me suspiciously before shrugging. “Okay, then, I’ll go get your drinks while you make up your mind,” she said, pulling her eyes away.

“Why the hell did you kick me? You always get a burger,” Chad demanded once she walked away, reaching a hand down to rub his shin where I’d kicked him.

“Sorry, man. I felt like something different.” What was I going to do, admit it was all a lame ploy, an excuse to have her come back to our table? Maybe I could also hang a bitch sign around my neck for good measure. I didn’t know why I cared so much. If I was just looking to get laid, I could get that by standing up and proclaiming that I was looking for company. This was something else. Maybe I was feeling nostalgic about a time when everything didn’t revolve around basketball, and Dad wasn’t constantly breathing down my neck. When Courtney and I had been friends, everything just seemed so much easier.

Chad looked at me skeptically but refrained from saying anything else.

“Hey, am I the only one who thought those guys were about ready to bawl when you drained four three-pointers in a row?” Collin crowed, changing the subject. That was Collin. He was the peacekeeper.

“Couldn’t have done it unless you pulled down all those boards,” I pointed out, sharing the glory of the game. “I actually felt bad for them once we went up twenty-five points.”

“Not me. They can go back home and maybe take up knitting jockstraps or something,” Collin added.

Chad and I laughed. Collin was ruthless on the court. It was what made him a great player. You had to be aggressive to make plays, and he could be a game changer when he wanted to.

We were still trading insults about the other school when Courtney returned with our drinks. Our voices had gotten loud, and several tables around us had joined in on the roast. I was in the middle of laughing at an inappropriately mean comment about the only balls they should be dribbling when my eyes met Courtney’s. Her animosity was hard to miss. It was clear she was pissed. Maybe she had turned into some religious nut that was easily offended by swearing and harmless razzing.

The laughter dried up in my throat. I tried smiling to let her know we were kidding. She, of course, didn’t return it. This chick was seriously hard-core immune to flirting. Her nickname should be the Brick Wall.

“Are you guys ready to order?” she asked impatiently, placing our cups on the table harder than necessary. Coke sloshed over, soaking the stack of napkins she had set down. “Oh, fuck me,” she muttered, wiping up the mess before it covered the entire table.

“Is that an invitation?” I said the words without giving conscious thought to them. It was like an instinct.

“No, thanks. There’s no telling what I would catch.”

Chad hollered as the rest of the guys erupted into laughter. “Shit. That’s harsh. You just got served, dude.”

Courtney ignored his comment and stood disdainfully, waiting for us to place our orders. It was as if one of our moms were standing in front of us.

Chad, Dave, and Collin cleared their throats and put in their orders, leaving me for last.

“I’ll take the half-court burger with extra cheese,” I ordered without opening the menu.

“Fries or tots?”

Chad grinned widely but refrained from commenting when I kicked him under the table again. “Tots,” I answered.

“Anything else?”

“How about your number?” I figured I might as well take the shot since she had already blasted me in front of everyone.

“Why?” For the first time, I had her undivided attention.

She didn’t say no, which was a small victory. I savored it for a second before answering, “Normal reasons—talking, for example, and so I can ask you out sometime.” I flashed my full-wattage smile, taking advantage of having her attention.

For a moment I thought I was making headway until she looked like she wanted to puke. Was the idea of dating me really that appalling?

“I don’t date jockstrap wearers.” She turned to leave before I lobbed back my response.

“Lucky for me, basketball players don’t wear jockstraps.”

She paused midstep but didn’t turn back to look at me.

“Bro, I’m going to fuck you up if you kick me again,” Chad threatened once she was out of earshot.

Collin snorted, clapping him on the back. “You wish. Dalton would wipe the floor with you. One time when we were all playing a game at the rec center, some dipshit thought he could keep pushing our man Dalton here. Dalton tolerated his shit for the first fifteen minutes or so, but then the dickhead knocked Dalton out of bounds with a cheap shot. My boy didn’t even hesitate. He clocked him so hard he was out for the count. It was classic, baby. Dalton is the fucking man.”

“What are you, his manager? Or maybe it’s something else. I didn’t know you swung from that tree. Do I need to leave you two alone?”

“Shit, I’d make you my bitch, fool. Believe that. Everyone wants a piece of the Collin Man,” Collin bragged, making a show of kissing his own biceps.

“Right. You and Tater Tots here are both shooting zero-for-two at the moment. I don’t need to kick Dalton’s ass, ’cause Courtney is doing it for me.”

“Fuck that,” I piped in. “I’m just getting started, Smalls. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be closing that shit soon enough.” It wasn’t meant to sound cocky, just confident based on my experience with the ladies.

chapter five

Courtney

I pushed through the swinging kitchen door and leaned against the wall, trying to clear my head. The dirty dishes slid off my tray, crashing to the floor. Mercifully they didn’t break. Dalton Thompson had just asked for my number. He had to be screwing with me. He’d never looked in my direction the whole time we were at Grant High together and now suddenly he was interested. I felt like I was being Punk’d.

“Wow, my princess. You break-a my dishes, you break-a my heart. What has my little tigress so upset?” Jimmy asked, drying his hands on his apron and slinging a fatherly arm across my shoulders. “Whose ass do I need to kick?”

I bit back a shaky smile. “Just some jockstrap who thinks he’s God’s gift to women. He can’t seem to take a hint.”

“Someone harassing you?” Chuck asked as he joined us. Standing six foot three, Chuck was a beast. His frame was like a grizzly bear’s, so when his chest puffed up, he was quite intimidating. I briefly entertained the idea of what Dalton would do if I sent Chuck out in my place. The thought definitely had its merits, and would give me some satisfaction.

At least it might dim his inviting smile, that hypnotic voice, and those warm eyes. That was the part of him I remembered the most. I’d always loved his eyes. There was something about seeing him in person again, and the sparkle in his eyes, that didn’t project from any of the banners hanging around campus.

I patted Chuck’s arm, smiling. “Easy, big fella. I’ll handle him.”

“Maybe I should go out there and emphasize that when a lady says no, she means no,” he added, cracking his knuckles. “Tell me who needs a little reminder.”

I laughed at the thought of Chuck confronting Dalton in my honor. That was all we needed, to start a brawl with the school’s basketball savior. Chuck’s sentiment was sweet but would be the end of Gruby’s. “It’s Dalton Thompson, but don’t worry. I can handle him.”

“The Dalton Thompson? All-American, conference champion, future lottery pick—that Dalton Thompson?”

“Seriously? You, too?” I snorted with disbelief. “Please tell me you’re not riding the Dalton bandwagon like everyone else around here.”

“Honey, I’d drive that bandwagon if they’d let me. Dalton is one of those once-in-a-generation types of players. He’s got more talent in his pinkie than everyone else on the team combined. We were lucky he chose to come here to play ball. Trust me, that kid has a huge future.”

“Oh Lord. So the guy is good at basketball. Why put him on such a pedestal?”

“Dalton isn’t just a phenom on the court, he’s a good guy. Believe me, with his talent he could be a prima donna, but he seems to have a good head on his shoulders. My nephew went to his basketball clinic last summer, and let me tell you, that guy has the patience of a saint. I love my nephew, but let’s face it. Seven-year-olds can be little shits. Any guy that can tolerate a gym full of rug rats at one time is some kind of kid whisperer. Trust me. There’s probably not many other players of his stature giving up their spare time to give free basketball clinics to kids.”

I digested Chuck’s words. Grudgingly I had to agree. It was a decent thing for Dalton to do.

“Do you really not like him?” Chuck inquired.

“I don’t dislike him, per se. He’s just not my favorite person. I’m not interested in becoming part of his entourage. And I definitely don’t consider myself a basketball groupie.”

Chuck laughed. “I can’t deny he seems to do well at attracting the ladies, but from what I’ve seen here, he’s respectful.”

“Respectful, meaning he doesn’t push them out of bed without saying good-bye first?” My snarkiness continued to amuse Chuck.

“Well, I can’t speak accurately about Dalton Thompson’s bedroom behavior. All I can offer is my opinion of what I know about the guy from observing him here. I’m just saying don’t judge the guy before you really get to know him. Regardless, I think my offer to intervene was a little premature. You obviously have a handle on the situation.” He winked at me, heading toward his office.

The problem was I did already know him. Taking the chicken’s way out, I talked Amanda into trading tables with me. I could tell she was puzzled by my request, but she readily agreed. She was more than happy to have a chance to chat it up with Collin.

I dropped off the check at the table I’d taken over from Amanda. The guy handed over his credit card without even checking the bill. That was a surefire sign that a customer was ready to go. I cashed him out swiftly before heading to my table of tipsy sorority girls who were flagging me down for another round of drinks.

“Another refill, ladies?” I asked, grabbing the empty margarita pitcher.

“Woot, woot, heck yeah. Keep it flowing,” one of the girls hollered, flashing a wide smile. At least they were happy drinkers.

“Coming right up.” I left them to their not-so-private conversation about some guy who they heard had piercings in some interestingly inconspicuous places.

“Hey, Paul. Can I get another pitcher for table five?” I perched myself on one of the barstools to wait.

“Sure thing. Give me a few seconds.” He filled two shot glasses for a couple of women dressed in business suits. The lanyards around their necks indicated they worked for the university in some capacity. They clinked glasses before sucking down the contents. One of them started coughing as the whiskey burned a path down her throat, making her friend laugh while she patted her on the back. “You’ll get used to it,” she chortled. “If we’re going to play with the big boys, we need to be able to hang, or they’ll crush us.” She signaled Paul, who was putting the finishing touches on my margaritas.

“What’s up with that?” I whispered.

“Battle of the sexes. From what I gather, the school treats the men a little better than the women.”

“Shocking,” I said sarcastically. The world treated men and women differently. Why should our university be any different? Especially when it came to athletics. You could be at the highest end of the spectrum in academics, but you were still a second-class citizen when compared to big-time sports programs. “I’m surprised the president of the university doesn’t walk around with his lips stuck to the players’ asses.”

“Who says he doesn’t? You have any idea how much money the sports programs generate for the school? As harsh as that sounds, the money allows for programs at the college that might be cut otherwise,” he pointed out, sliding over to refill the ladies’ shot glasses.

I knew what he said was true, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sometimes feel like they were rubbing our noses in it. Still, I guess twenty thousand people weren’t filling an arena every few nights to see an art exhibit or a science experiment. I knew I was just being overly sensitive. Seeing Dalton two days in a row had me a little cranky.

Shaking my head, I grabbed the freshly mixed pitcher and headed back to my table of girls, who had begun chanting my name while I was gone.

“Here you go, ladies,” I said, sliding the pitcher on the table.

“You’re the best, Courtney-y-y. I seriously love you,” Misty, one of the girls, drawled as she snagged my hand. She pulled me into the booth and slung her drunken arm across my shoulders. “Don’t you guys just love Courtney? She’s so cute and sweet.” She planted a wet kiss on my check, making me blanch slightly, but I allowed it. I knew Misty from a few classes we had taken together. She was harmless. We had one of those kinds of friendships where we acted happy to see each other and always made promises to hang out, but neither of us ever took the extra step to do so.

“If I ever went gay, I’d totally want it to be with you,” she continued.

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard all night, but you’d probably have a fight on your hands. I’ve been propositioned by my fair share of friends,” I said, standing.

“Aw, I get it. You’re a tease,” one of Misty’s friends declared.

“Oh, look, Cass is totally falling asleep,” another of the girls said, elbowing Cass in the arm.

“I am not. I was resting my eyeballs for a moment. They were tired of looking at you.” They all giggled when her friends pouted in response. “I’m kidding. I love you like a drunk loves to drink.”

“Gee, thanks. Why can’t you say something sweet like Misty said to Courtney?” She rolled her eyes and took another swig of the drink in her glass.

I laughed but left them to their drunken compliments.

Travis, one of the busers, snagged my attention as I walked by. “Hey, Courtney.” He was busy clearing one of my previous tables.

“Hey, Trav. How’s the band?” Travis belonged to a kick-ass band, but they would constantly fight and break up because of their tempers.

He sighed before providing the inevitable answer. “We’re on a break again. I swear to God, I feel like I’m in some fucked-up relationship with a chick, as much as we fight.”

I clucked my tongue sympathetically, running a rag across the surface of the table. “What is it this time?”

“Slick thinks we should all wear spandex to our shows. Ripped spandex to be exact.”

“Um, eww.”

He sighed again in defeat. “I know, right? Marcus told him he was high as a kite. Needless to say, the conversation didn’t end well.”

“I’m sorry, Travis. They’ll work it out.” I patted him on the back as he set off with the tub of dirty dishes in hand. I used my rag to clean off the bench seat, brushing any crumbs to the floor.

“Hey,” Amanda said, sliding into the empty booth I had wiped down. I could tell she wanted something by the way she fiddled with the saltshaker. “So, you remember how grateful you were when I got you this job?”

“Yes,” I answered apprehensively, sensing I wouldn’t like where this was going.

“And how you claimed you would owe me big-time?”

“If I remember right, you said it was no big deal.”

“True, but then you insisted. As a matter of fact, I distinctly remember you saying I saved your life.”

I didn’t say anything this time. Judging by the way she was laying it on thick, this was going to be a doozy.

“The way I figure it, saving someone’s life is a pretty big deal. I’m guessing it would mean that person would do anything to repay the debt.”

“You mean like chauffeur that person around every other day so she doesn’t have to walk or wait for the bus in the frigid temperatures?”

She paused. Obviously she hadn’t considered that before approaching me with whatever this big request was going to be. “No, it needs to be something bigger.”

“Spit it out, then. What do you want?”

“Go on a double date with me.”

“Are you asking me out?” I teased, placing my hands on my hips.

“You wish, sugar lips.” She laughed and ducked her head when I swung the rag at her. “I want you to go with Collin’s friend.”

“Which friend?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Dalton! Can you believe that? He’s totally into you. I know you have that crazy ‘I don’t date basketball players’ thing, but this is Dalton Thompson. If I didn’t like Collin, I’d be totally jealous.”

I was already shaking my head before she could finish her statement. “Amanda, I can’t.”

“Why not?” She stood up from the booth, glaring at me with her hands on her hips.

“Because, Amanda. You just said it yourself. I don’t date basketball players.” In all honesty, I would have said yes if she had picked any other basketball player for me to go out with.

“Is this a short person thing?”

I swatted at her. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Well, unless it’s something legitimate, you don’t have a viable excuse. Don’t make me play the ‘you owe me’ card. Just think. If you go, we’ll be even.”

I was still shaking my head, but her pitiful expression was crumbling my resolve.

“Please, Courtney. I’ll be your BFF.”

“You’re already my BFF and we’re not in grade school.”

“Say you’ll go,” she pled. “Ple-e-ease.”

I had to say yes. I’d be a complete bitch otherwise. I nodded as Amanda squealed, dragging me in for an excited hug as she jumped up and down. I was screwed.