Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes
Page 35
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If possible, his eyes got even bigger as he violently shook his head.
I shut the door as I realized what he was looking for—evidence of Momma’s murder. We started walking across the porch to the steps and I caught the glance he shot my direction, a look of fear.He thinks I killed Momma. There was no way I could go out with him. What I couldn't figure out is why he agreed to go out with me in the first place.
I stood next to the passenger door of Steve’s car. “Steve, I…” My words stopped on my tongue. Joe sat on his front porch, drinking a beer and watching my every move with a suspicious glint in his eye.
Crappy doodles.
Steve waited for me to finish.
I smiled up at him with my sweetest smile, which I hoped would convince him I was incapable of murdering anyone, least of all my own Momma. “I just wanted to tell you how delighted I am that you’re takin’ me out to dinner.” I said loud enough for Joe to hear. To finish it off, I raised up on my toes and kissed Steve on his pasty cheek, surprised it didn’t taste like biscuit dough. I hoped Joe didn't see Steve cringe at the contact.
I sat in the front seat, waiting for Steve to get in, smiling my fake happy smile. I was almost surprised to see him get in, half expecting him to run screaming down the street. I had to admit he had a nice car, one he probably didn't want to leave behind with a murderer. If I could murder my own Momma, I bet he could only imagine what I would do to his poor Buick.
We drove to the restaurant in silence, me fidgeting with my hands on my lap and Steve griping the steering wheel with both hands, hanging on for dear life. He occasionally darted looks toward me out of the corner of his eye as if I was gonna attack him at any moment.
Steve pulled into the parking lot of Jaspers, one of Henryetta’s nicest restaurants, which wasn’t saying much. People in Henryetta weren’t that fancy, in spite of all their bloodline talk. But Jaspers was a decent steak house, or so I heard. I’d never been there.
Steve opened my car door and the door to the restaurant, like a good upstanding boy from the South would. Any Southern mother who found out her son didn't hold a door open for a female of any age would get his ears boxed, regardless of the woman’s criminal history.
After we were seated, I appraised Steve while he scoured his menu. He wasn’t an unattractive man, just plenty soft around the edges and then some. He didn't see much sun either, from the look of his skin. I had suspected electricians were a little rougher. More like Joe, a thought I instantly squashed down.
There was no Joe.
“So Steve, Violet tells me you’re an electrician,” I said in a voice so sugar-laden that I expected to be attacked by a swarm of honeybees. Someone had to start a conversation or I would choke on the fear oozing out of Steve’s pores.
He looked up startled. “Yeah.” Then he jerked his head back down again.
I sighed. This was gonna be a long night.
“I’ve never been here before. Do you recommend anything?”
He mumbled something inaudible.
I debated letting it go but decided I’d make him talk to me whether he wanted to or not. Then I realized how ridiculous the whole situation was and burst out laughing.
Steve’s head popped up, wide-eyed, mouth dropping open. He looked like he expected me to start waving a rolling pin around any minute. I wondered again why he asked me out. Then it came to me, as obvious as Suzanne’s bleached hair. Mike was Steve’s boss. Mike had forced him into it.
I was on a pity date. Only worse.
Just when I was about to excuse myself to the restroom, the waitress showed up to take our drink orders. Steve mumbled his drink to the waitress, who had to ask him to repeat it twice. I ordered water. I almost ordered wine, to knock number nine off my list, but didn't want to waste it on Steve.
“So, Steve, how long have you worked for Mike?”
Still looking down, Steve mumbled something.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear you. What was that?”
“Four years.”
The waitress returned with our drinks and took our orders. Disappointment dampened my hunger, but I decided to get a big dinner and take the leftovers home. I felt a momentary bit of guilt over spending Steve’s money frivolously, but decided he could deal with it. Sure, he might be miserable, but so was I.
Rose Gardner was done accepting miserable.
I ordered a big steak with a baked potato and a salad. The waitress walked away and Steve no longer had his menu to hide behind.
We sat in silence, despite my continued attempts at getting him to talk. Finally, I gave up. I checked out the decor and the other patrons. My eyes roamed halfway around the room stopping for a couple of minutes on a big group celebrating someone’s birthday. I smiled, wishing I was with them, and then my gaze moved a couple of tables away.
I locked eyes with Daniel Crocker, the man that triggered my vision at the DMV. He sat with four other men. The others were involved in what appeared to be a serious conversation, but he watched me with open curiosity. I looked away, a blush beginning to flush my cheeks. Did he know who I was?
I excused myself to go to the restroom. Steve looked eager for me to go, and I rushed down the hall. Why would Daniel Crocker be looking at me? Was he the one who murdered my mother? I couldn't imagine that he knew it was me. Even if he remembered me from the DMV, I looked completely different now.
Violet had put a compact of powder and tube of lipstick in my purse. I applied both, taking an ample amount of time on each. When I couldn’t stall any longer, I went back out to the table only to find Steve’s chair empty.
I shut the door as I realized what he was looking for—evidence of Momma’s murder. We started walking across the porch to the steps and I caught the glance he shot my direction, a look of fear.He thinks I killed Momma. There was no way I could go out with him. What I couldn't figure out is why he agreed to go out with me in the first place.
I stood next to the passenger door of Steve’s car. “Steve, I…” My words stopped on my tongue. Joe sat on his front porch, drinking a beer and watching my every move with a suspicious glint in his eye.
Crappy doodles.
Steve waited for me to finish.
I smiled up at him with my sweetest smile, which I hoped would convince him I was incapable of murdering anyone, least of all my own Momma. “I just wanted to tell you how delighted I am that you’re takin’ me out to dinner.” I said loud enough for Joe to hear. To finish it off, I raised up on my toes and kissed Steve on his pasty cheek, surprised it didn’t taste like biscuit dough. I hoped Joe didn't see Steve cringe at the contact.
I sat in the front seat, waiting for Steve to get in, smiling my fake happy smile. I was almost surprised to see him get in, half expecting him to run screaming down the street. I had to admit he had a nice car, one he probably didn't want to leave behind with a murderer. If I could murder my own Momma, I bet he could only imagine what I would do to his poor Buick.
We drove to the restaurant in silence, me fidgeting with my hands on my lap and Steve griping the steering wheel with both hands, hanging on for dear life. He occasionally darted looks toward me out of the corner of his eye as if I was gonna attack him at any moment.
Steve pulled into the parking lot of Jaspers, one of Henryetta’s nicest restaurants, which wasn’t saying much. People in Henryetta weren’t that fancy, in spite of all their bloodline talk. But Jaspers was a decent steak house, or so I heard. I’d never been there.
Steve opened my car door and the door to the restaurant, like a good upstanding boy from the South would. Any Southern mother who found out her son didn't hold a door open for a female of any age would get his ears boxed, regardless of the woman’s criminal history.
After we were seated, I appraised Steve while he scoured his menu. He wasn’t an unattractive man, just plenty soft around the edges and then some. He didn't see much sun either, from the look of his skin. I had suspected electricians were a little rougher. More like Joe, a thought I instantly squashed down.
There was no Joe.
“So Steve, Violet tells me you’re an electrician,” I said in a voice so sugar-laden that I expected to be attacked by a swarm of honeybees. Someone had to start a conversation or I would choke on the fear oozing out of Steve’s pores.
He looked up startled. “Yeah.” Then he jerked his head back down again.
I sighed. This was gonna be a long night.
“I’ve never been here before. Do you recommend anything?”
He mumbled something inaudible.
I debated letting it go but decided I’d make him talk to me whether he wanted to or not. Then I realized how ridiculous the whole situation was and burst out laughing.
Steve’s head popped up, wide-eyed, mouth dropping open. He looked like he expected me to start waving a rolling pin around any minute. I wondered again why he asked me out. Then it came to me, as obvious as Suzanne’s bleached hair. Mike was Steve’s boss. Mike had forced him into it.
I was on a pity date. Only worse.
Just when I was about to excuse myself to the restroom, the waitress showed up to take our drink orders. Steve mumbled his drink to the waitress, who had to ask him to repeat it twice. I ordered water. I almost ordered wine, to knock number nine off my list, but didn't want to waste it on Steve.
“So, Steve, how long have you worked for Mike?”
Still looking down, Steve mumbled something.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear you. What was that?”
“Four years.”
The waitress returned with our drinks and took our orders. Disappointment dampened my hunger, but I decided to get a big dinner and take the leftovers home. I felt a momentary bit of guilt over spending Steve’s money frivolously, but decided he could deal with it. Sure, he might be miserable, but so was I.
Rose Gardner was done accepting miserable.
I ordered a big steak with a baked potato and a salad. The waitress walked away and Steve no longer had his menu to hide behind.
We sat in silence, despite my continued attempts at getting him to talk. Finally, I gave up. I checked out the decor and the other patrons. My eyes roamed halfway around the room stopping for a couple of minutes on a big group celebrating someone’s birthday. I smiled, wishing I was with them, and then my gaze moved a couple of tables away.
I locked eyes with Daniel Crocker, the man that triggered my vision at the DMV. He sat with four other men. The others were involved in what appeared to be a serious conversation, but he watched me with open curiosity. I looked away, a blush beginning to flush my cheeks. Did he know who I was?
I excused myself to go to the restroom. Steve looked eager for me to go, and I rushed down the hall. Why would Daniel Crocker be looking at me? Was he the one who murdered my mother? I couldn't imagine that he knew it was me. Even if he remembered me from the DMV, I looked completely different now.
Violet had put a compact of powder and tube of lipstick in my purse. I applied both, taking an ample amount of time on each. When I couldn’t stall any longer, I went back out to the table only to find Steve’s chair empty.
