Our waitress, in a standard black uniform with her dark brown hair up in a tight bun, approaches our table. I reach for the menu I never took time to look at, but Trey stills my hand with his and then begins to spout off an order for us.
“Give us three Kobe sliders, an order of spring rolls, and a queso fondito.” He hands both menus to her. “With water and whatever Martini you think would be paired best."
I’d protest on principle alone, but I like the sound of everything Trey ordered, and it’s not like I looked at the menu. Rather than allowing him to see his over handedness might be growing on me, I go back to gazing at the view.
“How did you and Melvin get along today?”
Trey breaks the silence and I’m forced to remove my eyes from the window to answer him. My head flips so far to the side it rests on the top of my shoulder and my eyes narrow in his direction.
“He showed me a mole this afternoon and asked me to make him a dermatologist appointment.”
Rather than console me, he laughs. “He’s a remarkable programmer, Simone. Plus, he has no life and does nothing but work. He’s perfect."
Yes, truly, I can’t imagine why he isn’t married with ten kids. “I’m pretty sure it was a pimple, Trey.” My sarcastic thought bleeds into my comeback and makes me sound like I’m joking, but I’m not.
He reaches across our small square table and grabs my hand, locking it together with his. An elbow rests on the surface as he slides his upper body closer and meets my eyes drawing me into his depths. I brace for one of his classically sweet Trey moments.
“He’ll grow on you.”
“Seriously?” I roll my eyes at him and try to pull my hand back, but he holds on and places his over mine on the table surface.
“Well isn’t this sweet.” I stiffen at the intrusion and Trey grasps my hand tighter.
As if choreographed, Trey and I both turn our heads in unison to Mari standing less than a foot away from our table. I try to remove my hand from under Trey’s, but he increases his grip until it almost hurts.
Mari stares down at us, her lips in a twisted snarl, an angry businesswoman in her black suit jacket and pencil skirt. The yellow blouse she’s paired it with doesn’t do her hair color justice. She’s prim and proper while I come off looking short and meek in my chair. I haven’t worn a business suit since I left Lowry, Lowry, and Fink. I’d been enjoying my new ability to be laid back… well at least until this moment. Now Mari’s here in all her armor and I’m fighting a dragon with nothing on my side but a Calvin Klein sweater.
“Mari, have you met Simone?” Trey’s voice is tight and it worries me. I don’t enjoy feeling like the other woman, and even though I tell myself I’m not, I feel as if I’ve stolen her man.
Mari leans closer with her upper body and sneers in Trey’s direction, reducing her voice. “Yes, I do believe I have. I didn’t know you weren't above sleeping with the help.” In her hand she has a larger than normal martini glass, and as she leans back, some of the liquid sloshes over the side soaking into the carpet.
I freeze at her words and try to sink into my chair so she’ll forget I’m here. Trey, sensing my discomfort, lets go of my hand and I’m quick to pull it to my lap. It's the wrong decision as the movement catches her eye and she follows it to where it leads right to me.
“Mari, now isn’t the time or place for this.” Trey keeps his voice low, but from the way his face tightens it takes effort.
She takes a jerky step back in his direction. I’m pretty sure Mari’s drunk or well on her way to being drunk. I don’t remember her having balance problems when she was in the office.
“Where is the time or place? You won’t take my calls. How am I supposed to talk to you?” Her hand sways again and a drop or two more of the liquid spills out. "Now I see why you barred me from the office. You wouldn’t want me to walk in on the maid dusting off your dick.”
I gasp at her cruel words and my mouth falls open in shock. She didn’t just say that out loud, did she?
Trey stands jostling the glasses on the table. “That’s enough.”
“You’re right. I’ve had enough of watching this spectacle in public.”
In slow motion her hand flails out, and Mari tosses the remainder of her drink in my direction. The liquid splashes on my neck and travels down into my sweater. I reach a hand up to wipe the already sticky mess from my chin, and the harsh odor of liquor follows until it’s the only distinguishable smell.
I stand, a base reaction to being doused in liquid. I can’t believe the crazy chick threw her drink on me. Mari turns and walks away through the double doors and out to the lobby where the elevator we rode up waits. Behind her our waitress stands with an open mouth, a witness to the scene. She stammers for a minute before placing our food on the table and offering to bring me a towel.
Trey looks me over and reaches a hand around my back to hold me in a half hug. “I guess we’re getting this to go.” His words are hard and flat in tone.
I worry whether it’s because we’ve caused a scene or because he upset Mari.
