Page 18 of Traitor

I sat up and reluctantly faced the man who refused to vacate my brain, no matter how many eviction notices I sent. “Mike…hi.”

He looked amazing. I hated him for that. It would’ve been easier had he looked like he’d just crawled out of a dumpster. But no, here he was, standing in front of me looking just like he did when we were together. It was throwing my lady bits into a tailspin.

Traitorous bitch.

“Hi,” he said back, his lip twitching, as if fighting against a smile. “Mind if I join you?”

“I—uh, I think—” I stammered, while he slid into the booth next to me.

“Sup, man? I’m Mike. I’m sure Lauren’s mentioned me.” He thrust his hand out toward my date.

Little Ricky didn’t bite though and kept his hand on the table. “Uh, no, she hasn’t. And, we’ve met.”

This time, I frowned. “You have? When?”

They had a silent conversation with their eyes before Little Ricky explained. “This guy comes down to the range every now and then. Acts like a complete prick too—drives my boss fuckingloco.”

“Really?” I asked.

Mike’s glare turned murderous and he bit out, “Yep. It’d be nice if they’d hire a RO who actually knows what the fuck he’s talking about. Maybe then I’d be nicer to deal with.” He grabbed the extra silverware and dipped a spoon into my soup. “It’s good. You sure you don’t want it?”

I ground my teeth together. “I did up until you started eating it.”

Mike shrugged and took another spoonful before reaching across and grabbing the uneaten half of Little Ricky’s sandwich. He took a bite and grimaced. “Pastrami? C’mon, guy.”

I pretended to be looking for something inside my purse, just to avoid having to make eye contact with either of them. My face felt hot and I knew, without a doubt, that my cheeks were flaming red.

“You ready, Lauren?” Little Ricky asked, while giving Mike the side eye.

What?

I’d driven myself and met him here and he knew it.

“I’ll take her home,” Mike interjected.

“Over my dead body, asshole,” Little Ricky retorted.

Mike was out of the booth and on him before I could form a response.

“You fucker—you know what she means to me!” Mike threw a punch and missed, giving Little Ricky enough time to slide free from the booth. He swiped Mike’s legs out from under him and he went down to the linoleum floor with a loud squeak.

“Me cago en tu puta madre,”Little Ricky hissed before launching himself on top of Mike.

“Oh, is that Spanish for I have a small dick? It’s alright, little buddy,” Mike growled back at him, while slapping at his face.

The two of them looked like they were locked in a passionate embrace as they flopped across each other on the floor. Neither one seemed capable of landing a solid hit—it was like watching toddlers fight.

Any minute now, Mike was going to cry out that,“Little Ricky pinched me!”

A manager came running, along with several patrons, and I was elbowed out of the way after sliding from the booth. I fought against them and stood on my tiptoes to see over their shoulders.

Like boxers in the tenth round, they were panting heavily with their arms wrapped around each other, each placing weak blows onto the other’s back. The manager tried separating them and barely dodged a blow off the side of his head before shouting, “That’s it—I’m calling the cops.”

Mike shoved Little Ricky off and jumped to his feet. “I’m a cop.” He displayed his badge and everyone immediately backed down.

I rolled my eyes and retrieved my purse before heading toward the front of the restaurant.

“Lauren?” Both men called after me, but I kept walking, right through the front doors and over to my car.

---