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I heard Barbi at the counter propositioning you.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Right. It never is. Getting back to the obvious. This is very nice of you,” I said tapping my chest. “But, it doesn't change the situation with your father.”
He nodded along.
A server arrived also only dressed from the waist up in a tight black corset just like Counter Barbi. She carried a key on wooden stick and opened the door across the aisle from us—a storage closet with bags of potato chips. Just like the girl behind the counter, her corset was tied so tight at the waist that it was a miracle she could breathe. It also made her boobs heave when she did attempt a breath.
“Odd dress code they have here,” I said when she left.
“It brings in customers,” Evan noted. The evidence of his comment came from every pair of male eyeballs in the place. It was proof of a first principles of marketing—sex sells.
I could have made a snide comment about tight clothing not equaling loose women, but it was time for me to cut bait as they said. “I have to go.” I was still going to have to return to my ordinary life and for him to be able to continue his and get back into his father's good graces. I pushed the bottle away. I finished my assignment and been paid even though we had been successful. Any more time with him was only going to remind me of that failure. And how I'd screwed it up for him with my out-of-control mouth. So, I stood to go and leave this fairytale life behind.
“Sit down, Brooklyn,” he said with a stern voice that sounded like his father.
But, coming from Evan it made me shiver.
“I said sit, listen, and for once in your life, don't fucking argue.” his tone shifted to something closer to the Evan I knew. He was hell bent on giving me the speech.
With a million dollar check stuffed in my bra, I owed it to him if it would make him feel better. So, even if it would make me feel worse, I sat and restrained my mouth. “Very well. I’m listening, Mr. McAllister.”
“Allie, I’m offended that you’d cut our date short. We haven’t even been served yet. That strikes me as a bit rude, even for a girl from Brooklyn.”
I didn't understand his gibberish. “Date? It’s over.” I motioned between us. “This thing. You heard your father.” I shifted down an octave to mimic Fergus. “Son, you better get your priorities straight. You have a decision to make.” It didn’t take a Upper-West side upbringing to understand what he meant, or to understand that in a family like Evan’s it wasn’t even a choice.
Counter Barbi arrived carrying our pizza. Her ample boobs threatened to spill out when she leaned over. “Here you go, pepperoni mushroom olive on a cauliflower crust.” She laid it down in front of us and picked up the number tag. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you,” I added when Evan didn’t say anything.
At least she left without some comment to Evan about sixty-nine being her favorite number.
I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t have any claim on him, we had been faking it and I’d known from day one the kind of man he was. But, my sarcastic nature got the better of me and the words spilled out. “Friend of yours? Got a date lined up for tonight?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Right. Not high enough class for you?” I wasn’t prepared for his eye roll. Once again I’d let my tongue loose when I shouldn’t have.
He sighed. “Miranda’s the owner and I’ve invested in this shop. She wants to discuss expanding. ”
“Oh.” I failed at keeping the embarrassment out of my voice.
“It’s strictly business. And, by the way, she’s gay.”
It wasn’t like I could tell by looking at her or anything, but still learning that amped up my embarrassment.
He extended a hand my way, and when I didn't take it he waggled his fingers in invitation. “I dare you. Pizza and a movie.”
I shook my head. “Don’t change the subject. Your father didn’t give us, give you, you a real choice.”
“Chicken, Brooklyn? Bawk, bawk, bawk.”
I couldn't let that pass, so I put my hand in his and once again felt that zing of electricity that passed between us whenever we touched. It was certainly something I'd never felt with Ty, or anybody else. “And if I take your dare, pizza and a movie? Then what?”
“I’ve made my choice,” he said pulling my hand to his lips. “And, it’s you.”
“Right. Until next week,” I scoffed. Pulling the check out of my bra and placing the folded paper on the table. “I’m not for sale.”
