Page 14 of Untying the Knot
Myla raises her hand cutely. “Guilty.” Then she turns to me and asks, “Invest in any snacks yet?”
“Not so much,” I answer.
She shakes her head in disappointment. “You disappoint me.”
“Are you girls hungry?” Banner asks. “We can grab a table upstairs and get something to eat.”
“I don’t have my wallet,” Myla says. “It didn’t fit in my cleavage.”
“I have exactly twenty-nine dollars,” Nichole says. “That’s what fits in mine.”
“We got you,” Banner says. “Our treat.”
“Well then, don’t mind if I do.” Myla sweeps her hand in front of her. “Lead the way, kind sirs.”
Banner hops off his chair and nods toward the stairs at me, indicating that I’m a part of this too. Grumbling to myself, I take my pint glass in my beer-covered hand and follow them up the stairs to the dining area of the bar, which I wouldn’t really call a dining area. Booths are lined along the perimeter while high-top tables fill in the middle. It’s shrouded with people decked out in costumes—a few superheroes, sexy devils, sexy maids, sexy just insert a noun here, and a dedication to the costume T-Rex in the far corner—leaving me looking like the odd one out.
“Find a seat if you can,” the hostess says as we approach. “We’re pretty cramped.”
I glance around the crowded space, my irritation already revving from having to be here, but now that we’re in a spot where people are elbow to elbow, I want nothing more than to go home.
“Oh look, there’s a table for two over there in the corner,” Banner says.
“And one to the right,” Nichole adds.
Silence falls between us, and I know what’s going to happen next. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the math.
“So, uh, why don’t you take Maya to the right?” Banner starts.
“It’s Myla,” she says. “But I won’t hold it against you.”
“Shit, sorry.”
“No offense taken. I know how this goes. You’ll dine with my friend here, work up the sexual tension until you can’t take it anymore, and probably meet up in the bathroom for release while I get wined and dined by your cranky brother who doesn’t know how to properly stock the cabinets with snacks. Not a problem.” And with that, she loops her arm through mine and drags me toward the table to the right while saying over her shoulder, “Let me know when you’re done.”
When we reach the table, Myla releases my arm to sit at the two-person high-top table. Completely unsure how I got into this situation—it happened so fast—I take a seat across from her, where I get a straight shot down her cleavage.
Jesus.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to break the bank for you.” She grabs one of the menus resting between the salt and pepper shaker and scans it. “I might just order some broccoli. Do you like broccoli? I can order two sides of it. Hmm, I wonder if they have peanut butter. Have you ever tried peanut butter on your broccoli before? It might sound gross, but it’s actually quite good.”
“Uh, no. I haven’t.”
“I would like to say that I’m shocked, but given your barren kitchen and confession to not investing in snacks, I’m not shocked at all.”
I pluck a menu for myself. “You know, you don’t have to do this. I have no problem eating alone or just leaving, for that matter.”
“And what, leave me here to fend for myself?” She shakes her head. “No way.”
“I’m sure any man in this bar would be more than happy to offer you a free meal.”
“Yeah, but that free meal comes with strings attached. At least with you, I know you’re doing this for your brother, and you’ll cash in on a favor from him later down the road. Therefore, it’s your brother who owes you, not me.” She looks up from her menu and offers me a large smile. “See how that works?”
Oddly, yes.
I turn back to the menu and browse the selection. Nothing speaks to me other than the family-sized nachos, so I ask Myla, “Do you want to split the nachos with me?”
“Hmm.” She taps her chin. “You know, I think I could eat some nachos right now. But we’ll need extra jalapeños because I like it spicy.”
