Page 40 of Zero Pucks

I took it but didn’t use it and knocked him into a fifth chair.

“I’m going to literally jam the cane up your ass if you don’t use it,” he snarled.

I put it in front of me and managed to avoid the obstacle field that called itself an Italian restaurant until we got to our table.

“Your server will be with you shortly,” she said. I let Jonah go to find his own chair while I took mine. He and I snagged the window seats and left the one on the edge open for Ford, who was running late, according to his last text.

“Yo,” Jonah said, turning his head to the side.

The hostess paused and looked unsure.

“He’s talking to you. He’s just being an asshole about it,” I told her.

Jonah at least had the grace to look apologetic. “Can I get a braille menu?”

She looked a little startled. “A what?”

“Little bumpy dot things for blind people,” he said, waving his fingers in the air like he was reading it.

Her cheeks pinked. “Right. Um…”

“I called ahead, and the guy I spoke to said you keep them at the front,” Jonah told her.

She swallowed, then turned on her heel and hurried off.

“She left, didn’t she?” he asked, turning back to me.

“Yeah.” My sigh was probably too loud.

“Bets on whether or not she comes back?”

I glanced over, and from across the room, I could see her bright white shirt next to another bright white shirt, which meant she was probably frantically asking someone about the menus. “I don’t feel like losing more money.”

“Vegas wiped you out, huh?” He grinned, showing off a missing molar where he’d had it knocked out a few games ago. His hands felt around the table, and I knew he was looking for water.

“They didn’t bring anything over yet,” I told him. “And actually, it wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

“Apart from acquiring a husband,” he pointed out, “and maybe possibly getting dicked down and not remembering.”

My neck heated. “As far as I’m aware, all we did was kiss—and no, I don’t remember that either. But there was no dicking of any kind.”

“Bummer, dude. You need it.”

“Flipping you off,” I told him as I did.

He cackled and swiped at my hand. “Seriously though, I told Micah about it, and he thinks it’s all really fucked-up. You could sue this guy.”

“For what? Also being drunk and listening to my terrible ideas?” The thought of making Amedeo’s life harder than it was made me want to barf all over my shoes. Or over Jonah’s. It wasn’t his fault, of course. He didn’t know that Amedeo was maybe the most adorable man who had ever lived, but it still made me irrationally angry at him.

“You always blame yourself,” he pointed out.

I let out the smallest sigh. “Yes, well. It’s usually my fault. And after meeting this guy?—”

“Whoa, what? Hold your fucking balls.”

“It’s hold the phone,” I corrected.

He ignored me. “Youmethim?” He slapped his hands down on the table. “And I’m just hearing about this…why?”

---