Page 6 of Shame

I roll my eyes. “I’m being nice.”

“As am I.”

“No, you’re being rude.”

“I’m being honest,” he says, still browsing the menu. I pull it from his hand and slap it on the table. He glares at me.

“Don’t act like you’re getting something different,” I snap.

“I’m back!” I pull my gaze from my brother and bring it back to Cora.

I’ve been wanting to ask the girl out for weeks, as my brother so eloquently made known, but shit’s been so busy that I haven’t had the time. Now that I do, I won’t waste my shot. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a serious interest in a woman,and I have had my eye on her for a while. She’s worked here for a few years, and I’ve seen her here and there, but a few months ago, she really caught my attention. But that was right around the time shit in the club got crazy, and so, that was my priority.

“I can see that,” I say, looking her over.

I especially love the way her cheeks are pink, and it’s not from running around. They were fine before she stepped over here to talk to me. Love that I make her blush. She smiles, tucking her dark hair behind her ear. It’s a little wild, as it usually is when I find her here, working her adorable ass off.

“Are you going to take our order or just stare at my brother?” Snapper asks.

I elbow him in the ribs, this time not going easy. He hisses, glaring at me.

“Stop being rude, asshole.”

When I look back at Cora, she’s pale.

“No, he’s right. I’m sorry. What can I get you?”

Snapper sighs, then rambles off his order of scrambled eggs, lightly toasted rye toast, and well-done bacon. Same shit he gets every time we’re here—or anywhere else that serves breakfast. There was a time he wouldn’t eat breakfast after a certain time in the morning. Said it was no longerbreakfast. But after having their lunch too many times, he’s decided eggs can be lunch too.

“And for you?” she says to me, forcing a smile.

I raise my brow at her, waiting for a hint from her to tell me she’s interested or is going to give me her number. Something outside of the pink cheeks. But her professional mask is in place,and so I forget about it. I don’t really have time to date anyone anyway, even if the idea of having someone to go home to is appealing.

Like most things in life, my brother ruined this for me too.

I give her my order, and with a polite smile, she puts it into the computer system and pours us some coffee.

“You’re an asshole,” I say to Snapper as I dump in some sugar into my cup.

“I’m hungry,” he answers, picking up his mug to drink it black. “I came here to eat, not watch you eye-fuck the waitress. And I really don’t wanna watch her getting all hot and bothered by said eye-fucking.”

“I was not eye-fucking her.”

He rolls his eyes. “Coulda fooled me.”

“Maybe you should mind your business.”

“You made it my business by bringing me along. You don’t want me here? Next time come alone.”

I grit my teeth, knowing I’m not going to get the last word with him. I never fucking do. He’s a wise ass of the worst kind. Has an answer for everything. Used to get his ass beat by our father for it, too. Didn’t make a difference to Snapper. Pops firmly believed in spankings for punishment, and I got a few myself. But Snapper got them all the damn time. Sometimes he couldn’t sit down for days. I felt bad sometimes, but after a while, I felt like he was an idiot for not shutting his mouth. To this day, it seems he hasn’t learned his lesson because he still never shuts up.

The other waitress that’s on shift is the one who brings us our food, which annoys the fuck outta me. All Snapper cares about is his food, which he eats as meticulously as he does everything else. I swear the fucker has OCD or some shit but tell him that and he loses his goddamn mind. Saw him punch a guy in the face over joking about it.

I don’t bother waiting for the check when we’re done eating. Both waitresses are busy, and my brother has the patience of a two-year-old. I drop a hundred bill by our plates, get up and leave. No one in their right mind would try taking that money, not only because our town has honest people, but because anyone who steals from the MF loses their hands.

“Maybe next time you should come alone,” Snapper says again, as he throws his leg over his bike. It’s a Harley Street Glide. Pretty little thing. He’s trying to make a point because he already fucking said this.

“Maybe next time you shut your goddamn mouth,” I say.

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