Page 31 of Counting the Stars

“He’s still passed out at the table. One of the waiters offered to help get him to the car, but what would I do with him after that?”

“Why don’t you just leave him at the table? Let the restaurant call the cops on him or something.”

“I thought about that, but we work in the same building. I don’t want to be the girl who left Dr. Payne unconscious at a restaurant. Although from what he was saying, he might not be a doctor much longer,” she mumbles.

“He deserves whatever he has coming.”

“Maybe he does, but who knows? I really don’t know him well and it’s possible I misunderstood him since he was slurring. He might’ve had a hard day and needed to blow off some steam and went a little too far.”

I can’t believe she’s willing to give this guy the benefit of the doubt. I, for one, have already judged him for the asshole that he is.

“Do you know where he lives?”

She shakes her head.

“Great.” I blow out a breath, trying to come up with a plan. “Well, we’re going to need his wallet and keys. We’ll find his address and take him home. I’ll stick Dr. Payne in the Ass in my car. I don’t want him trying anything with you if he wakes up. Do you think you can drive his car? We’ll drop him off at his house and then swing back around here for Stinky. Does that sound like a plan?”

“I guess so. But how are we going to get him out here and to your car?”

“We have that covered,” a male voice says from behind me. I turn around to see a stout man in a three-piece-suit standing next to a humongous teenage boy who has a lanky man wrapped around the back of his neck like he’s wearing a human boa.

“Hi, I’m Jared,” the guy in the suit says. “I’m the general manager and this here is Nickolas, one of our busboys. Your date started to disrupt other customers with his snoring, so we figured we’d save everyone a headache and bring him out here. Thankfully, Nick is a star athlete. We call him Nick the Brick.”

“Thank you,” Gabby says sheepishly and digs in her purse.

“No need, ma’am.” Jared holds his palm up and shakes his head. “Your date already settled his tab at the bar, and dinner is on us.”

“No.” Gabby gasps. “I can’t let you do that.”

“I insist. You’ve already had a horrendous date. You don’t need to get stuck with a bill on top of it.”

“I-I don’t know what else to say.” Gabby shakes Jared’s hand. “Thank you for your compassion.”

“As much as I appreciate this moment,” I interrupt, “we need to get this guy out of here.” I look over at Nick the Brick, who still has Dr. Ass Analyzer in a firm grip. “Can you hold on to him while I bring my car around?”

“No problem at all, sir.” The Brick puffs out his chest. “I can bench up to 225 pounds and I would say this guy is about”—he jiggles the drunk doctor a bit—“one hundred seventyish.”

“Good to know.” I roll my eyes, although I’m impressed with Nick’s stats.

I jog to my car while Gabby thanks Jared and Nick over and over again. In less than a minute, I pull up to the curb. Jared opens the passenger side door and Nick dumps Dr. Colon Cleaner into the seat. Once their work is done, they head back into the restaurant.

“What do we do now?” Gabby asks as I click her deadbeat date’s seat belt into place. I might hate the guy, but I don’t need him getting hurt on my watch.

“We need his keys and wallet to find his address.” I turn my attention back toward her.

“Okay, umm…I guess they’re in the pocket of his pants.” She bends down next to where Josh is seated.

“Hold it!” I place my hand on her upper arm and gently pull her back. “The last thing I need tonight is to watch you digging around in some other man’s pants.”

I reach around Dr. Posterior Prober’s waist, wishing I had thought to get his belongings while Nick the Brick was still holding on to him. It’s a lot harder to access his pockets now that he’s sitting down.

I successfully pull out his belongings and read the address on his license. “Okay, Dr. Douchebag lives on Riverside Drive and…” I hit a button on the key fob. A black Mercedes lights up. “His car is right over there.”

I give Gabby strict instructions to follow directly behind. About ten minutes later, we pull up to a small bungalow-looking house that’s seen better days. The dilapidated porch is covered with chipped paint, and the screen door is barely hanging on to one hinge.

“Huh.” I step out of my SUV. “I guess he put all his money into his car rather than his home,” I say to myself.

“How was he on the drive?” Gabby asks while walking up to me.

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