Page 22 of A Very No Strings Halloween
“I look so fucking good inyoutoo.”
I am so confused by whether or not we’re doing a scene right now because that’s the kind of line he uses when we’re role-playing. I can only respond by laughing. He kisses my neck.
“You think that’s funny, Miss Fischer? I get an A-plus for that line?”
Ahh. He’s playing hot for teacher. Not real. Got it. “Oh, you’ll get what’s coming to you in detention.”
The elevator dings, and we bump foreheads as we bend down to pick up my handbag at the same time.
Now we’re both laughing and swearing and wiping our mouths as we step off the elevator. “Do I have lipstick all over my face?” I ask him.
“Naw, you still look perfect,” he says. “How about me?”
“Still handsome.”
I silently praise my drugstore-brand lipstick for its staying power as he takes my hand.
“Is it okay for me to hold a girl’s hand like this on a first date?”
“Yeah, I think it’s nice.”
“Cool.”
I bump into him when I head toward the entrance to the restaurant and the crowd of well-dressed people waiting to be seated, just as he veers to the left. “We’re goin’ this way.”
“Oh. I thought we were going to Monarch.”
“We are. We’regoin’ in the special way.”
And by that he means the service entrance.
He leads me down the hall and around the corner. There’s a door with a keypad lock. He punches in a code and the door pops open. “Right this way, milady.” We’re in a back hall that leads to a very busy kitchen.
“Hey, Lorenzo!” Billy calls out to a middle-aged man in a jacket and tie, above the din of back-room chaos. “How are ya?”
“Hey, Billy! Where ya been?”
“I can’t tell ya, but your ma says hi. Hey-oh! Here you go, my man.” He presses a twenty-dollar bill into this guy’s hand too, like it’s no big deal.
Swagger.
Billy Boston has swagger as he struts through this busy commercial kitchen like he’s John Travolta walking into a nightclub.
As we pass by the dishwasher stations, Billy punches a young man in the arm. “Gino! Lookin’ fit, my man.”
“Hey, Billy. I been takin’ that protein powder I got from youse—that stuff is amazing.”
“’Course it is. Lemme know when you need more.”
Oh God, is Billy one of those nutritional-supplement affiliates? I would not be surprised if this is all some elaborate scheme to get me to buy a year’s supply of creatine from him.
A very tall, dark-haired young man gives me the once-over when we walk past the salad prep station.Billy squeezes my hand tight and gets right up in his face without missing a step. “Fuck you, Enzo. Don’t you even look at my girl.”
Enzo just looks away, no talking back. I have to say I’m a little turned on by IRL badass Billy.
Finally we’re out of the kitchen and into the sophisticated, dimly lit, expansive restaurant, zigzagging through servers and tables.
Ahead of us, a distinguished elderly man in a dark suit is instructing a group of servers while pointing to different tables. He does a double take when he sees Billy approaching and immediately walks over to greet him, arms extended.
