Page 6 of Love & Other Disasters

“Old Fashioned,” Brent told the waiter, who nodded then disappeared toward the bar.

A staggering array of plates sat scattered across the table. An eclectic menu of aromatic figs, tamales, hummus, and pork danced into her nose, and her stomach let out a rumble, remembering that it was famished. They divided the food onto plates. Violet added a little of everything to her plate, mouthwatering.

“So, J.P., are you also in Cybersecurity?” Elle asked.

He shook his head. “I’m in Finance.”

“He helps turn failing companies around,” Brent added.

“You went to college with Brent?” Elle asked. Violet was too busy shoveling in the variety of food. Everything incredible and delicious. The dizzying quantity of the distinct flavors shouldn’t work together. If she kept eating and didn’t talk, then they couldn’t connect.

Frat Guy nodded, “Yeah we met at the Alpha Delta house freshman year.”

Elle choked on her food; Brent turned, patting her back. “Excuse me, wrong pipe,” she said.

Violet shot her the ‘I told you so’ look, and Elle rolled her eyes in response.

“Haven’t seen each other in… what, five years?” Brent asked.

“It was at Schmidt’s wedding…” J.P. said, holding his fork aloft. “Holy shit, yeah, that was five years ago.”

“You remember when he tried to make his own fireworks and almost burned down the Kappa’s homecoming float?”

Why did it seem that all college frat guys had stories like that? But instead of heading down that path she went with a less controversial question. “Where’d ya’ll go to school?”

“Indiana,” Frat Guy said. “Majored in Business Administration and Sociology.”

“And J.P. was captain of the swim team and the debate club.”

“Wow, you did a lot of things,” Violet said.

“Including a bunch of sorority chicks,” Brent added laughing. Elle slapped Brent on the shoulder and J.P. cringed, his ears tinging red.

Interesting reaction. Maybe he’s not a douche.

“Dude, is that what you want to drag up? I have some stories for you,” Frat Guy looked at Elle.

The drinks arrived and increased the chance this night would turn into a bigger disaster.

“Jesus, it was a joke.” Brent sipped his cocktail and nodded. “The truth is, Katia, that our boy here didn’t get laid at all in college. He has zero game. Just terrible. And with a face like that, he could use some game,” Brent quipped.

Elle and Violet burst out laughing and J.P. gave Brent the finger. She didn’t buy the man sitting next to her had zero game, she’d bet he’d gotten more than his share of women.

“How’s the Monkey Gland?” she asked Elle. Everyone turned in rapt attention for the response.

“It’s superb,” she said, “Nasty name aside.”

With that they settled into the food, drinks, and mundane chit chat about the weather and local sports teams. Frat Guy wasn’t so bad, cliché’s aside. He had a boyish charm about him, attractive, and well mannered. Throughout dinner, he peppered Violet with a few questions that received vague answers.

“Where’d you go to college?” J.P. asked.

“Belmont,” Elle answered for her, telling the truth. Violet shot a warning glare. She wasn’t outright lying to him about anything other than her name. But still this couldn’t go anywhere and ended tonight.

“What do you do for a living?” he asked.

“I’m a freelance writer,” she replied, in her second bald face lie of the evening. An accounting analyst at a company that processed medical insurance claims was a far cry from a writer.

“What do you write?”

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