Page 51 of A Little Moore Action
“That’s not necessary,” Thomas says, shifting his eyes to Campbell. “Sit with Mother and me. We just sat down ourselves. We’d be happy to dine with you both.”
“That’s okay, bro,” I grind out. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt family time.”
This time Campbell is the one throwing me the questioning look.
“Chase,” a familiar, feminine voice says.
Sighing, I face the lady. “Hello, Mother.” I wrap my arm around Bell, tucking her close, not sure if the close contact is for her comfort or mine.
Please. We all know it’s mine. I’m afraid of a woman in a classic Chanel baby blue tweed suit. It’s so stereotypical, it shouldn’t still be fashionable, but it’s Chanel and it’s on my mother, so it is. She glances at Campbell, arching a thin brow. “Come. Join us.” Then she turns on her expensive nude pumps and walks back to the table.
Awesome.
Bell
Awkward.
The word plays on repeat in my head. This is nothing like drinks with Liz. Drinks with Liz make this feel like a funeral for someone’s secret baby daddy.
Chase’s mother, Emily Moore, straightens her silverware and smooths the white linen tablecloth in front of her. For the third time in as many minutes.
Chase is staring at the salt and pepper shakers like they’ve mortally wounded him somehow and only the sight of their shattered glass remains could appease him. I’ve lost feeling in my fingers, since he’s probably channeling that same determined Jedi-mind-fuck aggression into the death grip he has on my hand. Luckily, no one can see my dead, lifeless fingers as our linked hands remain between us, on the booth seat we’re sharing.
“So…” Thomas clears his throat, finally breaking the silence. The terrible, awkward silence. “You haven’t returned my calls.”
Chase’s fingers pulse harder on mine, then he lets go and shifts his focus to his brother. “I wonder why that is?”
Thomas sighs. It isn’t a nice sigh. It’s like a parent getting frustrated trying to teach a toddler how to use a spoon kind of sigh. “Listen, I know—”
“Hi there. My name is Stacey, and I’ll be your server. Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?”
“Bloody Mary.” I realize I’d basically shouted this when Chase’s mother jumps in her seat. I lower my volume. “I’ll have a Bloody Mary, please.”
“Sure thing.” Stacey jots my order down on her notepad. “Anyone else?”
“Water for me,” Mrs. Moore says, her lips stretching into a tight smile.
“Same,” Thomas murmurs.
I’m about to change my order to just water. I mean, if they want to do this whole awkward silence thing sober, I guess I can hang.
Then Chase speaks up. “Just water, Mom? That’s new.”
Mrs. Moore blinks, Thomas squints his eyes, Stacey raises her eyebrows at the whole angry vibe Chase is throwing off, and I just really want that Bloody Mary.
Chase’s anger seems to evaporate when he addresses the waitress. “I’ll have a Bloody Mary as well, Stacey.” He smiles and winks after he says it, Chase Moore charm in full force. Stacey visibly relaxes, jots it down, and spins on her heel back to the kitchen.
“That was uncalled for,” Thomas admonishes. And though I agree with him, I remind myself I’m on Team Chase. I also don’t want to draw too much attention to myself. Chase introduced me as Campbell King but left it at that. I’d rather not have my two-day bubble burst by two shareholders of Moore’s realizing I’m mixing pleasure with their business.
Plus, Thomas is really condescending. I hate that.
More silence. Oh my God. I can’t take it anymore.
“I love your suit,” I blurt out.
Chase stiffens beside me, while Thomas smiles and looks down at what is, admittedly, an immaculately cut suit, but I cut him off before he can speak. “Sorry, I meant your mom.”
Chase coughs, but I know he’s really trying to cover a laugh.
