Page 42 of Big Daddy

My body tenses and my heart nearly stops.

Brielle takes her glasses off, folding them up and stuffing them in her bag. “I asked her if she wanted me to leave leftovers for her in my fridge but she said no.” She shoves her phone away next. “I guess she’s out with Luciano tonight.”

My daughter glances at her watch, unaware that she’s just angered and baited me. Winnie is out with her male roommate? My mind churns through the bits and pieces she’s fed me, but the only one with a mentioned girlfriend was Dante.

“And where might the young women in the city go these days?” I ask, trying to be playful, but when Brielle lifts her face to look at me, her nose is scrunched and her jaw is tight with disgust.

“Please tell me you’re not crawling bars with Davis for young women. Dad, you’re too old for that. And?—”

I stop her right there. “Nope. Just getting a pulse on where I can expense dinners for younger clients.” I consider that Winnieand her roommate may not be getting a full meal and add, “drinks, too.”

Relief washes over Brielle’s face. “Oh. Well, they’re at Wasteland. It’s a bar downtown.” She smiles. “Trivia night.”

Wasteland? That doesn’t sound like a place I want Winnie to be. The fact of the matter is, there’s only one place I want Winnie and it’s wherever I am.

“Dinner was nice tonight but… I gotta go. Early call time at work tomorrow.”

I wave her off and get to my feet. “If anyone understands,” I tell her. She kisses my cheek and walks out. I stand in the Greek restaurant among the patrons, while looking up Wasteland on my phone.

My night’s just getting started.

chapter fifteen

winnie

Luciano’sdark hair curls against his neck, falling short of his collar. The girl next to him, the one he’s trying very hard to impress, curves her hand around his nape, pulling his ear to her lips. She privately divulges something and his cheeks flame in response. A moment later, she releases him, and does a little nod toward the back of the space.

Luciano, who goes by Luke, turns toward me, dark eyes wide. “I’ll be right back,” he says eager and breathy.

Since they’ve been playing touchy feely all night, I’m pretty sure I know what they’re gonna do. “You better not fucking ditch me,” I tell him, plucking the cherry from his Long Island iced tea.

“I won’t,” he promises. He pecks my cheek and then Luke and the blonde move hand in hand out the back double doors, straight into the mass of people in the patio area. There’s a dance floor out there, and Long Island iced teas plus booming music and falling darkness equals grinding and dry humping.

Everyone knows that.

I turn to the other two people at the table, both strangers. Luciano dragged me down here to meet a girl he met online, but was afraid to go alone. Luke is a waiter at three different restaurants, trying to make it as an actor. He’s incredibly handsome, like a young, more hip version of John Stamos. He, however, has social anxiety—that’s why I’m here. I said I’d come with him in case he got nervous or needed to bail out. He also promised free appetizers. As a recovering broke girl, free anything is the way to my heart.

He ended up buying the three of us drinks for the last two hours. Score.

“So, what’s up? You guys feeling good about the last round?” I ask, the buzz in my veins making my face both tingly and numb. “Local trivia,” I add, tracing the rim of my nearly empty glass with a fingertip. These iced teas are really hitting right now. I jab a playful elbow at the girl next to me. “We got this, right?” Cupping my hands to my mouth I shout, “Go table eight!”

The girls smile uncomfortably, and even through my more than buzzed state, I’m catching their hints. They don’t want to chat with me. I finish my drink and reach for Luciano’s, finishing his too.

That’s four Long Island iced teas in two hours.

That’s probably going to bite me in the ass tomorrow morning.

But tonight? Fuck it.

The bad friend, the poor girl, the lost soul—whoever I am, I’m drunk and enjoying it.

“Alright,” the emcee says, tapping the mic as he returns to his self-made podium behind the bar. “San Francisco trivia. Last round! Are we ready?” Each table cheers and whoops when he points their way, and when he gets to number six, I face the two girls.

“We’re down two so you really need to be loud with me, okay?” I hiccup at some point during that sentence but the teas are hitting, and then the emcee is calling out for table eight.

Turning, I cup my hands to my face again and let loose a wild, throaty whoop, something more suited for a football game or a pole dance, no doubt, but still, it’s out there. The bar lights shining down on my face, a light sheen of sweat coating my forehead, I’m reminded of a full stadium and the energy it brings, so I whoop loudly for my table again.

The rest of the bar laughs, so I laugh with them, but when I eye my table mates, one of them is plugging their ears.

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