Page 20 of Tony

I lean back in my chair, surprised, my frown sliding up into a smile. Now we’re talking about coming at the beginning. A switch-up. A very nice change, if I’m being honest. And an intriguing way to cement this new friendship. “Jesus Christ, Soshee. Now you’ve got me thinking about the way you bite and come.”

She giggles again. Yeah. She’s definitely an easy laugh. Certainly likeable. “I know,” she says, still giggling. “TMI. But seriously, the food here is good. You should eat. And don’t forget dessert. We have a bakery in the back…” She bites her lip and sighs, then looks around and whispers, “The cannolis?” She runs the tip of her tongue across the edge of her teeth. “Better than getting a blowjob in the alley.”

I can’t help it. I laugh. Loud.

“Shhh.” We get another dirty look from the aunt across the room.

“Sorry,” I say. “But—”

“So you’ll take the lasagna?”

“Uh…”

She giggles again. Points at me. “Oh. You’re dirty. Bolognese it is. I’m off work in ten minutes, so I’ll bring two plates. That way we can come together.”

Then she stands up, winks at me, and walks off towards the kitchen.

My mouth falls open. I’m stunned.

What the hell just happened?

I’ll say one thing. For the first time in three months I’m thinking about a girl who is not named Belinda, or Rosalie, or Rosalinda.

Soshee returns twenty minutes later, sans traditional black and white Italian-restaurant waitress uniform. Instead she’s wearing a short, flirty sage-green skirt and a very fluffy cropped tan sweater that shows off a cute bellybutton ring. Behind her comes a troop of servers.

She slides in across from me and leans back in her seat as plates are put in front of us. It’s a lot of food. The spaghetti, of course. Plus a basket of bread, a bottle of wine, two green salads, and an almost overflowing charcuterie board.

She thanks her co-workers and then starts pouring us some wine.

“Well,” I say, leaning back to get a look at the dinner, “you definitely know what you want.”

“That I do,” she says, handing me a glass of red wine. “This is our first date, Mr. Tony Dumas. We need to mark the occasion.”

“Is it a date?”

“Friend date,” she says, winking at me as she takes a sip of her own wine. “Don’t worry. I’m not coming on to you. I just…” She sighs. Looks out the window at Sick Boyz. “Two AM is a long way off.”

“Are we staying until they close?”

“That’s what a proper stalker would do.”

“Are we proper stalkers?”

“We are.” She clinks her glass to mine. “We take our jobs very seriously.”

“Well then.” I clink my glass to hers this time. “Here’s to our first date as stalker friends.”

Soshee Ameci is good company. She talks a lot. But she doesn’t overpower me. I’m a hard guy to overpower, actually. I hold my own. And she’s funny. Even though I can tell this situation with Vann and Belinda makes her sad, she doesn’t mope.

In fact, she rallies like a champion. “You know,” I say, after our plates have been cleared and the table has been brushed clean with a small sweeper, “you’re taking this all very well.”

“This meaning Vann?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugs, glances outside across the street. “I’m a good catch, Tony Dumas. I know my worth. And you can’t make someone love you, but you can make them take notice. And that’s what I aim to do. If he chooses Belinda over me, I will ensure that he regrets it one day. And I don’t mean I’ll ruin his life or anything so predictable as that. I mean…” She tilts her head up. “I will be the best me possible and make sure he understands what he walked away from.”

“I’m starting to think he doesn’t deserve you.”