Page 36 of Damnation
“And thanks for letting me stay at your place. I don’t know what I would have done without you,” I add, glancing up at the sprawling palace behind her, which stands out starkly against the rest of the neighborhood even with the lights off.
“Anything for you,” she answers. “Have fun with that grouchy boyfriend of yours. And if you ever need an escape, you know you can always come back here.” She gives me a weary but sincere smile. I watch as she disappears into the large front garden, and only when the solid wooden front door closes behind her do I join Thomas and Vince back in the car.
***
We walk into the restaurant at two in the morning. Surprisingly, it’s full of people. It’s so hot inside that I immediately take off Thomas’s sweatshirt. From here we can see there’s a free table at the back of the room, so we head for it. As we step forward, I can feel the eyes of some of the men in the room gravitate to my legs, making me uncomfortable. It’s terrible to realize that a girl really can’t wear a short dress without having to deal with slimy looks from men. Adult men, in fact, who look old enough to be my father.
Behind me, Thomas and Vince are muttering something in each other’s ears, and as if reading my mind, they move to create a kind of human shield around me, trying to hide as much of me as possible with their bodies. I speed up my walk, and though I can’t know for sure, I can feel the dirty looks Thomas is giving to the lookie-loos.
When we get to the table, I hang my purse and the sweatshirt over the back of my chair. Thomas moves to sit next to me, but Vince beats him to it with a feline pounce.
“Move, Vince,” Thomas demands, looming over his friend.
Vince tilts his head upward innocently and answers, “Why? There’san empty seat right there in front of us.” He’s really trying to hide it, but the grin pulling up the corners of his mouth just gets more and more obvious.
Thomas puts one palm flat on the table and the other on the back of the chair currently occupied by Vince; then he lowers himself down until the two of them are eye to eye. “Move,” he orders.
The blond boy sighs, rolling his eyes. “See how aggressive he is? What do you see in him?” he asks, turning to me. Nevertheless, he gets up and takes the seat across from us. “It’s all the tattoos, isn’t it? I know that’s it. You know, if I wasn’t terrified of needles, I’d be covered in them too, and then there’d be no hope for all of you,” he says, pointing a finger at Thomas in an intimidating fashion.
I try to stifle it but I can’t help but laugh. “Well, you know, all these muscles don’t exactly hurt either,” I tell him, rubbing Thomas’s left bicep mock-worshipfully. Thomas just shakes his head in resignation.
“Hey, Little Gem, I’ve got those too. Take a look at this.” He shrugs off his jacket and lifts his shirt up to show off his rock-hard abs, even slapping them with his hand a few times to illustrate. He gives us mocking smile, absurdly pleased with himself.
I pretend to gasp in surprise, pressing a hand to my chest.
“Truly admirable, Vince, I am deeply impressed. Seriously, you’re looking pretty good. Actually, you know what? This combination you’ve got going on, with the angelic face, big baby blues, and the breathtaking physique you’ve been hiding under your baggy T-shirts? It’s really putting you over the top.”
His eyes gleam. “Over the top, you say?”
I nod. “For sure! I mean, yeah, he’s got all these tattoos and that bad-boy vibe that turns a lady’s head, but I’ll let you in on a little something.” I lean toward him as though I’m about to impart state secrets. “Despite what you may think, every woman is secretly attracted to the nice guy.” I sit back, composed, a smile on my lips.
“Are you kidding me? So how the fuck do you all end up in the arms of these ungrateful oafs?” He points at Thomas, who, exhausted by this conversation, just shakes his head.
“Because these oafs know what they’re doing, loser,” Thomas interjects.
Vince snorts and lifts his eyebrows. “Oh, you know what you’re doing? How so?”
“You really wanna know?” Thomas answers.
They stare at each other for a fraction of a second, almost as though they are communicating telepathically, and then Vince mimes a retch. “Ah, Christ’s sake, no!” he answers, disgusted.
Thomas and Vince get up and stride to the counter to place our food and drink orders—three waters—before coming back to sit down. Vince orders the extra-hot beef empanadas. Thomas chooses enfrijoladas, which, if I understand the menu correctly, are folded tortillas covered in black bean sauce, cheese, and salsa. I would be trapped in my usual indecision if Thomas didn’t just go ahead and order for me: the chicken fajitas, an order of empanadas, and the nachos.
Thomas rubs a thumb along his forehead and wrinkles up his nose. “I ordered you a lot of stuff, Ness. I wonder if you can eat all that.”
“I’m hungry,” I answer decisively.
“Little Gem, they serve generous portions here,” Vince agrees, also sounding skeptical.
I look away from him and back at Thomas. “I’m hungry, though.”
After a moment of silence—during which they exchange another doubtful look—they shrug.
Another patron strolls by from across the room, apparently on his way back from the restroom, and gives me a smile that would be polite, except for the few seconds his eyes linger on the neckline of my dress. I clear my throat uncomfortably while staring at the menu. As soon as I finish, though, I’m startled by a glacial voice, full of disdain.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
I grab Thomas’s thigh underneath the table out of instinct and squeeze it tightly, willing him to not make a scene.
