Page 53 of The Alpha: Part Three
She steps out wearing some dark purple flip flops that aren't quite heels but aren't flat either. “Perfect. Let's go give Seth a heart attack.”
She doesn't even get down the stairs before he's dragging his hands down his face. “Why do you hate me?”
“She looks gorgeous, don't you think?” I help her down the last few stairs and twirl her off to Michael.
“So gorgeous,” he agrees and kisses her neck.
“Goddammit,” Seth mutters. “I'm going to cause a scene. You picked that dress, didn't you?” He glares at me.
“I didn't pick it, but I definitely encouraged it. And you can't cause a scene at this place. It'selite.”
Seth scrubs at his jaw again and looks up at the ceiling. “Half the council will probably be there. I can't afford to make a scene. I have have to be–”
“Elite,” I finish for him and laugh when he glares at me.
I regret laughing at him within two minutes of being inside the restaurant. There are too many men here without packs or partners. And they all look at Desie a little too long to be considered respectful. By the time we're seated at our table, all three of us are bristling. Michael isn't bothering to hide the snarl on his face, and Seth has popped his knuckles enough times that Desie has called him out on it twice.
“Maybe I shouldn't have worn the flip flops,” Desie says as Michael helps her into her seat.
Seth takes his seat next to her, scowling in the direction of the bar. “It isn't the flip flops, Desir'ee. You look perfect. I just don't like the fact that every untethered male in the place agrees with me. Don't worry, darlin. We won't let anyone near you.”
She presses her lips together to keep from smiling. “I know you won't.”
The rest of dinner goes smoothly. We drink expensive wine and water. We eat through appetizers and courses. Everything is great until dessert. Desie ordered the most intricate version of an ice cream sundae I've ever seen and now everyone in here is watching her eat it. Well, not everyone. But more men are watching her lick the spoon she's holding than I can handle without making that scene Seth was so worried about. The least violent solution I can manage is to take the spoon from her and feed her the rest of it. No licking. It takes some of the visual fun of it from me, but if it keeps me from launching the entire bowl and anything else I can reach on this table at that asshole at the bar then it's fine.
“I can't take another bite,” she declares before the bowl is half empty.
We all breathe a nearly audible sigh of relief. The plan is to take her to a comedy show after dinner if she feels up to it. We'd normally take her dancing or to see a local musician, which would likely lead to dancing, but she asked for something a little less energetic since she's so close to her due date. Seth has never been to see a stand-up comic. To be perfectly honest, I’m a little worried. A lot of comedians will pick someone out of the audience to use as a bit in the show, and Seth is a red head wearing an eye patch. He might as well be wearing a target on his face.
Something much worse happens, though. The show listed on the club's online schedule was very clearly a one-man comedy act. The show being advertised on the marquee when we get there is not a one-man comedy act. It is apparently poetry night.
We all stare up at the billing sign without saying anything. I don't think any of us wants to be the one to say we don't want to snap our fingers and listen to people read depressing prose. I like poetry as much as the next guy, but I don't think I can sit through an hour of it tonight.
“Um,” Desie starts, but doesn't get much further.
Michael gives me a sidelong glance. “Well...”
“Listen,” Seth says, turning to face Desie. “This was supposed to be a comedy act. A one-man stand-up show. I even prepared myself to be the focal point of a whole bunch of jokes.”
“Why would you be the focal point?” Desie asks, hand on hip.
He smiles down at her. “I'm wearing an eye patch, darlin. I might as well have an actual neon arrow pointing at me.”
When she still doesn't get it, I hold up one hooked finger. “Aargh. You know, a pirate?”
“Seth does not look like a pirate.”
He brings her hand up to kiss her knuckles. “Thank you, Desir'ee. I appreciate that, but I do. Especially to a comedian. I was prepared for it. But, please, don't make me sit through poetry tonight. I'm not artsy enough to enjoy it right now.”
“Oh,” she frowns. “Okay. We can go home. I'm getting tired anyway.”
“I don't think so,” Michael argues. “You're not that tired. I have a back-up plan.”
Seth turns to look at him. “A back-up plan?”
“Yeah,” Michael rubs the back of his neck. “I thought about the eye patch thing too and I thought it might piss me off for anybody to make a joke about it so I found an alternative option.”
I gesture for him to continue and he gives me a wide smile. “There's an arcade two blocks over.”
