Page 36 of Bad Reputation

“We should go inside,” Forest says, pulling Jameson by the arm. “It was nice seeing you, Emma.”

Jameson lets Forest lead him on toward the front door of the restaurant, but he glances back to me. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes speak volumes.

How could you do this?andThis isn’t what I wantedare chief among them. It chills me to the bone. I know that I had no choice but to move on from him, but it still feels like shit.

So I glance down, breaking the connection. I can’t do anything else.

I pull out my phone, trying to decide between calling an Uber and going home or just changing the restaurant. I can’t go inside, obviously. But Rich is almost twenty minutes late at this point… is there any way I can just call it?

Uncertain, I suck in another deep breath.

“Emma!”

I glance up to see Rich, dressed in sweaty workout clothes. I give him a puzzled look. I definitely said that we were going to dinner at a nice place.

“You look fancy,” he says. He closes in, apparently going for a hug.

“This dress is Valentino,” I grit out, backing away from his embrace. “And I told you that we were going somewhere nice for dinner!”

“You said it was pizza,” he says, defensive.

“No, I definitely said a fancy Italian restaurant. I explicitly told you to wear something nice.” I’m miffed that he is even bothering to argue with me.

Rich looks down at his sweaty, rumpled clothes and shrugs. “I’m sure they’ll take us.”

The wind shifts, and I get a whiff of him. I wrinkle my nose; he doesn’t just smell sweaty, he reeks, like he hasn’tevershowered. How did I not notice that at my parents’ party?

“Yeah, we can’t go in there,” I say, motioning to the restaurant behind me. “It’s well into dinner time. We missed our reservation, and besides, they definitely have a dress code for dinner.”

“Psssh,” he says, waving a hand. “I just have to grease a palm or two. Trust me, it’s nothing I haven’t done a hundred times.”

He doesn’t even realize how entitled he sounds. It really steams me. “Rich—”

“Uh uh,” he says, grasping my arm and whipping me around. I’m so shocked by it, my mouth falls open. “Methinks she doth protest too much, right? Come on, you wanted to go here, so we’ll go here.”

His grip on my arm is like iron. I stumble forward to the door of the restaurant, unable to put the words together to tell him off.

We get inside the bustling little place, and I see that it is jam packed. A young man comes up to the host stand.

“Hi. Do you have a reservation?” he asks.

“We do. Right, babe?” Rich says, looking to me.

I try not to make an ugly face. “We had one at seven thirty under Alderisi.”

The host gives us a disapproving look, and begins typing my name into an iPad he has at the host stand. I get another whiff of Rich’s body odor, and I almost vomit.

The host surveys Rich. “I’m sorry, but while I do have your reservation still, I don’t believe that you meet our dress code.”

Rich lets go of my arm and reaches in his pocket, producing several bills. He peels off two, slapping them down on the host stand.

“There!” he declares. “Just to let you know that I’m serious about dropping some dough in this place.” He laughs. “See what I did there? Dropping some dough? Because this is a pizza place?”

Though I would like him not to take Rich’s money, the host discreetly pockets the bills. “If you want to come right this way, I’ll show you to your table.”

Rolling my eyes, I follow the host through the restaurant… Right to the table behind Jameson and Forest. Jameson sees me, glowers, and then spots Rich. His expression turns puzzled as he looks back and forth between Rich and me. Like he’s trying to piece us together, but keeps coming up lacking.

The host seats us, and Rich takes the seat facing away from Jameson and Forest. He plunks down without a second thought, and I’m left to sit with Jameson in plain view. I feel my cheeks heating as I sit.

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