Lucky laughs again. This time a real one. “She’d better.”
Bending, I pick up the plate and turn it upside down. The hard clump of what I suspect was pizza at one time, slides off onto the floor and breaks apart like glass. “Petrified.”
I hear Lucky slap the doorjamb. “If you want to bring in the dishes as you find them, I’ll get them soaking.”
“Good plan.” I follow him out with the plate and set it on the counter. “Wish me luck.” Ha. Luck.
* * *
“Oh, my god.”I’m talking with my mouth full. Sue me. Chewing, swallowing, I look right into Lucky’s beautiful eyes. “This is the best food I’ve ever eaten.” No joke.
“Yeah?” he’s smiling proudly.
“It is. What are these little green things?” I know they aren’t peas because they’re sort of tart.
“Capers.”
“And artichokes?” I smile as I scoop up more food. “Who knew?” I sure didn’t. I don’t think I’ve even eaten an artichoke before. “Good.” I take a big bite and chew with a smile. I know, I know. I should be eating with dainty little bites and telling him I’m full after three, but why? Lucky has known me since I was ten. Besides, he likes women like Tiff. And since I’ll never be her, I’ll just be me.
“I ruined a romantic night with your girlfriend?”
I guess I surprise him with my question. “Not.My girlfriend.”
“Your date?”
He shrugs. “I guess.”
Since I’m not completely clueless, I think what he’s saying is Tiff was a hookup. I may as well ask. “Hookup?”
Lucky chokes on his own bite of food. Jumping up, I race to his side of the table and begin patting his back. “You okay?”
Nodding, he waves me off. “I’m good.” He laughs. “Jesus, Becklyn. You say the most unpredictable shit.”
I’m going to take that as a compliment.
Lucky doesn’t address my designation regarding Tiff, so I let it go.
“Where did Joe go this weekend?”
Lucky looks surprised.
“He didn’t tell you?”
“No.” Why would he? “Deena’s the one that arranged all this. She wanted the stupid room to herself so she could…” I clear my throat. “No. He didn’t.”
Lucky has the look of a man in a quandary. “I’m not sure I should say?”
“Is he in jail or something?” I mean…
“No.” He shakes his head. “Job interview.”
“Oh?” I guess that makes sense. He’s graduating this spring. “Out of town? Chicago?”
“Uh.” I’ve never seen Lucky this conflicted. “San Francisco.”
“California?” I squeak. “The West Coast?”
“Yeah.”
