Page 52 of The Main Event

“Yes, but I’m also occasionally lactose intolerant.”

“Occasionally?” I’d never heard of anybody being lactose intolerant on an intermittent basis.

“Fine. I’m always lactose intolerant. Are you happy?” Her eyes flashed, but it wasn’t with annoyance. What was it?

“I’m not happy because all I can picture is you going without ice cream. Life isn’t even worth living without ice cream.”

“I can take Lactaid when I’m desperate and want macaroni and cheese or a Peanut Buster Parfait.”

“Oh, that’s my favorite, too.” I went as warm as the hot fudge I was imagining when I thought back to my last Peanut Buster Parfait. “I could live on them.”

“That would make for an interesting nutritional balance.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I love tomato-based things, but they don’t always love me back. It’s a pain.”

“I’m sorry.” I reached out to stroke my hand over her hair, and it was too late when I caught myself. I froze, my hand on the back of her head.

Her eyes went wide. “So, um, pickle martini?” she asked in a strangled voice after what felt like five years instead of five seconds.

I pulled my hand away and nodded. If she wasn’t going to comment on it, neither was I. “Pickle martini it is.”

THE BAR BOOTHS WERE BASICALLY TABLES SETup all along Essex Street. Daisy found the one she was looking for, and landed in front of the bartender with enough bounce that I was worried her breasts—there was no way that was all real—would fly out of her bodice.

“Two pickle martinis, Jeeves,” she announced to the twenty-something manning the bar.

The guy grinned when he saw her, and there was no missing the flirty intent in his eyes. “Hey, Daisy. That’s some costume.” He was dressed up as a pirate, the most unimaginative of all costumes. I didn’t feel that gave him the right to comment on her costume.

“Hey, Trevor,” she said. “How did you draw the short end of the straw tonight?”

“I actually volunteered for this duty,” Trevor—who names their kid Trevor?—explained. “I have an audition the day after tomorrow, and the tips on this gig are great. I’ll be able to grab the train tomorrow before noon and have money in my pocket for New York.”

“Oh, what are you auditioning for this time?” Daisy asked as she watched him throw ingredients in a cocktail shaker.

“Cats.”

“I didn’t even knowCatswas still out there. I thought the movie killed all productions.”

“It comes and goes. I don’t really care what show I get a part in. I just want to get a part.”

“And then you’ll be leaving us to become a big star.” Daisy mock clutched at her heart, which only drew more attention—mine and Trevor’s—to her overflowing breasts. “What will we do without you?”

Trevor made a scoffing nose and shifted—I was convinced he was hiding a boner because of Daisy’s dress—before lobbing a blinding smile at her. “I’ll always come back to see you, Daisy. You’re the one I’m going to miss the most.”

This guy clearly wanted me to punch him. How could he hit on my date—okay, she wasn’t my date, but he didn’t know that—right in front of me? “How are those drinks coming?” I asked out of the blue.

Trevor’s smile was rueful. “Sorry.” He went back to adding ingredients.

As for Daisy, she scalded me with a pot of boiling glare. “Was that really necessary?” she demanded.

I feigned innocence. “What do you mean? I just want to taste this martini you’ve been raving about.”

“Well, you can wait an extra sixty seconds. Don’t be a tool.”

“Sorry.” I held up my hands in apology. “I’m just excited to taste this mixological masterpiece.”

Daisy rolled her eyes before turning back to Trevor, who was adding pickle garnishes to our drinks. She pulled money out of somewhere—she wasn’t carrying a purse, so where? My brain was fevered at the thought of where that money might’ve been—and handed it to him. “Good luck, Trevor. I know you’re going to hit it big.”

“Don’t you want your change?” Trevor asked. He looked completely besotted.

“No.” Daisy shook her head. “Just don’t forget me when you’re famous.” Her gaze was cooler when she handed me my drink. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” she said dryly. “You were willing to be rude for it. You’d better love it.”

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