Page 78 of Positively Pricked
Oh, crap.I didn't know. "Hang on," I said, reaching for my menu. I gave it a quick once-over. Turns out, it was the menu they used for their Sunday brunch. My gaze bounced from item to item. Finally, it landed on the beverage section, where the top item caught my eye. Before I could even think, I'd already blurted out, "Mimosas."
I wasn't even sure what a mimosa was, but it sounded tropical and maybe even boozy. Either one sounded like a very good thing.
Zane's gaze shifted to me. "Mimosas."
Was that a question? I hated how he did that, said things thatcouldbe a question, but were missing the question mark. Desperately, I looked to Marco. "You'dlike a mimosa, right?"
Marco was literally sweating now. "Uh—"
Zane's voice cut across the table. "No. He wouldn't."
Marco cleared his throat. "Actually—"
"Fuck off," Zane said.
And just like that, Marco was back to stammering again.
With growing desperation, I called out to our water. "Excuse me?" When he rushed over, I said, "Could we get a round of Mimosas?"
The waiter's gaze shifted to Zane. "Mister Bennington?"
Zane spared the guy half a glance. "No."
My face burst into flames.Talk about humiliating.
The waiter lowered his voice. "I'm sorry sir, but…" He hesitated. "Is that a 'no' for everyone? Or just for you?"
Zane's gaze flicked briefly to me. "Bringone." His voice hardened. "To go."
The waiter frowned. "I'm terribly sorry, but—"
"But what?" Zane said.
"Well, you see…" Now, the waiter's face was red, too. "We're not allowed to do that."
Zane's jaw tightened. "Why not?"
"Because uh, it's against the law." Quickly, he added, "Because of the alcohol."
Oh, no.Now, I'd gotten the waiter in trouble, too.
I spoke up. "That's all right. Forget I asked." I gave the waiter what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Maybe we'll just have a round of orange juice then?"
Again, the waiter's gaze shifted to Zane. "Sir?"
"Oneorange juice." Zane looked to Marco. "And like I said, to go."
Across the table, Marco managed to say, "That's all right. I, uh—"
Zane said, "It's not foryou, dickhead."
At this, Marco's face flushed so red, he looked like a human tomato. "What the hell?" He pushed back his chair and stood. "Whatisthis, anyway?"
It was a train-wreck, that's what.
Once again, Zane leaned back in his chair. He gave Marco a long, cold look. "I dunno. You tell me."
Marco glared down at him. "Hey,dickhead. Youwere the one who called this meeting."
