Page 43 of A Labor of Hate
We ordered our food, then made our way to the back of the restaurant.It wasn’t as private as the alcove, but it allowed a full view of the windows lining the sides as well as the entrance to the restaurant.Strategic, if not very private.But, when you’ve got two huge, skulking bodyguards flanking your table and glowering at anyone who dares approach, any table becomes pretty private.
I leaned toward Vivienne, speaking low and eying Bulldog.“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is your husband like a celebrity or something?”
She laughed airily, waving her hand as if she could wave away my concern with it.“Oh, no.He’s just very successful and has a lot of enemies in his line of work.”
I nodded, as if this was a normal, everyday fact of life.“Like corporate spy types, or like assassins?”
She paused to consider my question, then shrugged.“Maybe both?All I know is the last person who tried to become Charles’s friend was caught stealing from him.”
“That’s terrible!”And I’d bet my left cow sock that the sorry sap was six feet under by now, if there was even a burial.“No wonder he seems extra cautious.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”She grimaced.“I like you guys, though, and I’m hoping Charles will warm up to you.”
“I hope so, too,” I murmured, glancing at the man taking his seat next to Vivienne.Again, guilt laced through me at deceiving Vivienne, who may or may not know about her husband’s alter ego.Her answer had been too vague to tell one way or another, but that wasn’t odd by any means.
“So, you guys are having a little boy?”Colt asked, a disarming smile playing on his lips.It was another familiar one, and another one he never directed at me.
Charles stiffened.“How do you know?”
Colt’s brow furrowed.“I just thought your wife referred to the baby as ‘Little Man’ earlier, but I could be mistaken.”
His answer seemed to pacify Charles, who immediately relaxed.“Oh, right.Yes, we’re having a little boy at the end of July.”
“How exciting!”I clasped my hands together much like Colleen had when discussing our fake baby.“My due date is the first of August.”
“Do you have a list of names picked out?”Colt asked.
Man, he really knew the right baby-related questions to ask.Leave it to a family man, I suppose.
Vivienne shared a sly smile with Charles, who seemed to unwind more with each minute spent discussing their unborn child.“We’ve narrowed it down to two.”
“Am I allowed to ask what two?”I asked.“I promise we won’t steal either name if we’re having a boy.”
Charles scratched his chin.“You haven’t already decided on names for each gender yet?”
Colt shook his head, leaning back in his chair and draping his arm over the back of mine.“We’ve discussed four different names” —that was true— “but I think we’ll decide for sure once we see him or her for the first time.”
That was less true, but a great answer.And we wouldn’t have to remember which names we were more partial to.Bonus.
Vivienne nodded in understanding.“If we can’t decide before he gets here, I think we’ll be in the same boat.”
“Right now we’re undecided between Wyatt and Matisse,” Charles added.
“Both great names.”Colt dipped his head to the side.“Isn’t Matisse a painter?”
Why was I not surprised that Colt would know French artists?Because of course he would.
“Henri Matisse,” Charles confirmed.“But the name in French means ‘present of God’.”He wrinkled his nose.“And Wyatt means ‘of the woods’.”
“It’s such a beautiful name,” Vivienne argued, propping her head onto her hand.“And who, when they meet someone, automatically translates the meaning of their name?”
“She’s got a point,” I admitted.
It wouldn’t win me any points with Charles, but he wasn’t exactly buddy-buddy anyway.My ticket in was still Vivienne, hands down.
After we collected our food, we dug in, chatting amicably about Colt’s accounting job and my dancing background.Colt paid an alarming amount of attention to that.His stare seared through my skull the whole time and made my skin tingle.So, when Vivienne changed the topic, I nearly dropped to the ground to kiss her feet.
“What made you decide to move to Detroit?”she asked.
