Page 59 of The Morning After (Savannah 2)

“Because he’s gay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Bet?”

Simone sighed dramatically. “No! That’s a dumb bet. But since Jake can’t join me, how ’bout you? Dinner?”

“I love to be second choice,” Nikki mocked.

“Oh, for the love of God, Nikki, that’s not fair. You’re always blowing me off for some other person, usually not even a cute guy—just some”—she made air quotes at this point—“big, and I mean really, really big, assignment.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’ve been a flake, okay?” Nikki glanced at her watch. She had to meet Cliff in less than an hour.

“Right. So make it up to me. And don’t complain about being my second choice. Besides, you’ve got to eat. You can convince me that Jake’s all wrong for me over shrimp and fries.”

“I thought you wanted barbecue.”

“Yeah, well, I thought I wanted Jake, too. A girl can change her mind, can’t she?”

“I had dinner at my folks’.”

“Then, keep me company.”

“For a while,” Nikki acquiesced.

They drove in separate cars to the Bijou, a little hole in the wall off the waterfront. The atmosphere was lousy, the place noisy and crowded, but, as Nikki knew from experience, the shrimp, oysters and crab cakes were to die for. A dozen tables with red and white oilcloth covers were wedged into a small room where ceiling fans, now decorated with Christmas lights, swirled overhead. Semi-private booths with high backs and coat hooks rimmed the perimeter of the establishment. Three teenagers were just leaving when they arrived, so Nikki and Simone grabbed their small, vacated table near the kitchen.

Minutes later their order had been taken by a waitress with purple streaks in her hair and several rings in her eyebrows. Before Nikki could convince Simone that Jake, their kickboxing teacher, was off-limits, Simone’s seafood platter and Nikki’s iced tea were deposited in front of them.

“Sure you don’t want a bite?” Simone asked, dredging a strip of clam through a trough of hot sauce.

“I’m stuffed, really.”

Nikki nursed her tea and tried not to look at her watch every five minutes as her friend devoured coleslaw, French fries, shrimp, clams and crab cakes. “Jingle Bell Rock” played for the second time.

“Okay, so I can’t have Jake. I can live with that,” Simone said philosophically. “I got over Andrew, didn’t I?”

“Better than most of us.” They rarely talked about Andrew or the fact that he’d broken up with Simone one week before he died. Nikki was far from certain that her friend had gotten through the experience emotionally unscathed, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“What about you? Why are you always holed up in your apartment or at work? I’m beginning to think you’ve got some secret lover squirreled away somewhere.”

Nikki almost laughed out loud. It had been several months since she’d had a date, a long time since she’d split with Sean, her last serious boyfriend. “Go on thinking that. It makes me sound intriguing.”

“You are.”

“Me?” Nikki shook her head and stole a French fry. “I’m an open book.”

“An open book that works way too much,” Simone said as the waitress refilled Nikki’s glass and someone played an old Jimmy Buffett tune on the jukebox. The strains of “Margaritaville” played over the rattle of silverware and the buzz of conversation.

“Some of us don’t have cushy jobs with the city planning department.”

“Bo-ring, cushy jobs listening to city planners fight and haggle and…I don’t know, it’s just not how I want to spend the rest of my life. At least you love what you do.” Simone set her fork on the table. “Okay, I guess I’d better tell you what’s going on with me.”

“Besides trying to convert a gay man straight.” Nikki finished her tea and crushed an ice cube in her teeth.

Simone ignored the jibe. “I’m thinking of moving.”

“What?” Stunned, Nikki set down her glass. Nearly choked on the ice.

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