Page 43 of Loaded

Bea starts walking, but she looks a little less than steady, so I take her arm and steer her toward the corner she pointed out. “Alright,” I say. “We’re here. What did you need to tell me?” I stupidly hope it’s something. . .well. Something good.

“You asked before.” She looks up at me. “How I do it.”

Huh?

“At work.” She nods slowly. “I told you it’s a secret, but it’s not. Not really.”

Does she mean how she chooses what food for which person?

“I work at a place where pretty much everything is good. When I have one of the not-good chefs, I refuse to do it.”

I suppress my laugh. “Okay.”

“People just want to be special.”

She’s right about that.

She presses her hand against my chest, looking up at my face. “I wanted to bespecial.”

I want to tell her that she is. I want to tell her just how special I think she is, but I doubt she’ll remember a word of it.

“But for the people.” She frowns. “After I rule out everything they’re allergic to, I usually give them something they never had the guts to try—as long as it’s good, because they’ll love it.” She shrugs. “Easy peasy.”

“But if they never had the guts to try it, they could hate it.”

She shrugs. “Sometimes they do.” She presses her finger against her mouth. “Shhhh.”

I chuckle this time.

“But usually people eat that weird thing they haven’t had because it’sgood.” She leans against me again, her hand surprisingly soft. “You have a really nice stomach.”

Two pack for the win.

I can’t help it. I laugh out loud. “Do I?”

“It’s pretty special.” She’s frowning. “I can’t go out with you, though, because youarespecial.” She leans even closer. “It’s the same reason I don’t write music.”

“Why?” I had no idea she’d hand me the keys to Bea Cipriani while drunk, or I’d have tried to booze her up sooner.

“Everyone wants to be special, but the only special thing about me is that I can disappear.”

“Disappear?”

“I’m sonot-specialthat I just. . .” She snaps. “I’m invisible. People don’t even notice me. I’m really good at that. It’s why I’m a good waitress.”

She can’t really think that. “None of the otherwaitresses could do what you do—and you had the best jingle. You’re not invisible. You’re spectacular.”

“The other waitresses that tried to copy me were really stupid.” She’s beaming now. “I mean, a little bit, you have to be able to read the room. But mostly it’s just that my gimmick makes them feel special.” She hiccups. “And the food has to be good. Did I say that?” She shrugs. “That’s it.” Then she sighs, leans against me, and closes her eyes. “You really do have a special chest.” Her hands flatten against me. “And your stomach is nice.”

“I think it’s time for Sleeping Beauty to head home.” Jake grabs her arms, and she swivels.

“Jakey.” She smiles. “Yes, let’s go home to sleep.”

He pats her back. “I think it’s a good thing you never drink, Hornet.” Before I can say a word, he slings her up over his shoulder and carries her out, her shoes dangling from her toes, but miraculously not falling.

It’s not how I thought the night would go, but at least I have a goal, now. The next day at the office, I call an emergency meeting of the board.

“I’ve had an idea for branching out,” I say. “And I think you’re going to love it.”

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