“Let’s go to that booth,” Mort said as Symphony headed in their direction, carrying a plate of chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes.
Gypsy stood, and he kissed her cheek, then took her elbow and guided her to his favorite booth.
Once they sat, Symphony placed Gypsy’s order in front of her.
“The usual, Mort?” Symphony asked, glaring at Gypsy. Apparently, she hadn’t learned one fucking thing from her run-in with his mama-in-law. She’d just bided her time until she saw him again.
As much as Mort hated to talk to Tee about the waitress, he might have to if he wanted to have peace.
Smirking at Symphony, Gypsy slid her plate to the center of the table. “Want to eat a little bit, Mort?”
Accusation burned in Symphony’s gaze, tears rushed to hereyes, and she turned and ran.
“She has it bad for you,” Gypsy said calmly, pulling her plate back.
“I’m pretty fucking sure she wished she’d spit in your potatoes.” Mort tried to hide his annoyance, but maybe, Symphonydidneed firing. If he’d had Gypsy over the table fucking her, it wasn’t Symphony’s business. “Did you have to fuck with her like that?”
Gypsy unrolled her napkin, grabbed her plastic fork and knife, and set everything else aside. “It’s second nature,” she admitted. She cut a small piece of steak and popped it into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “It’s the only way to fight back with Derby’s stable of sluts.”
Lighting a cigarette, Mortician waited to hear why she’d asked to see him. His stomach growled because he hadn’t bothered to eat.
Gypsy set the utensils aside and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “I need some advice.”
“I need some fucking food, girl.”
Her giggle lit up her face. “I haven’t been a girl in ages. Cigarettes have hoarsened my voice. My skin is wrinkled. My hair is frizzy. My boobs are sagging.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” he said honestly, allowing smoke to pour through his mouth and nostrils.
Flushing, she glanced away. “I haven’t been noticeable in a very long time.”
“Didn’t mean that, baby. I just see Gypsy. A chick I had some good times with. An old friend, who once laughed easily and partied hard. ”
“Old,” she echoed. “That’s all I am. Old, tired, and lonely.”
“It’s a fucking shame to let a motherfucker suck the soul out of you, baby.”
“I love Derby.”
He’d always believed love shouldn’t hurt. He loved Bailey and she’d crushed him. He still wanted their marriage to work, so he couldn’t disparage Gypsy’s feelings.
“What do you need me to do?”
“I went back to Derby a month ago, but he was so angry that I went to LA with Meggie. We got into a huge argument so I moved back to my apartment since I still have two months on my lease. I told him I ran across an old friend last Friday and have been letting him stay at my place. We rode here together but he just dropped me off.”
Mortician wasn’t interested in hearing about the old friend she was using to fuck with Derby. “I still haven’t heard why you wanted to meet with me, girl.”
“I’m getting to that, Mort. Derby is seething with jealousy. He wants me to come home and I’ve agreed.” She studied her fingers, gripping the edge of the table. “But I want a makeover. Plastic surgery. Lipo. A boob and face lift and a labia rejuvenation. A new hairstyle. The works.”
“As long as you doing it for you,” Mort said.
“I am, although Meggie’s paying for it. We had a disagreement in LA but I talked to her earlier today and she’s forking up the entire amount.”
“That sound like Meggie girl.”
“If Derby finds out she’s giving me the money, he’ll think my makeover was her idea, and it wasn’t. She’s completely against it since I’m doing it so I don’t lose him. She thinks if Derby loved me enough, he’d accept me as I am.”
Mort agreed, but Gypsy sounded so fucking despondent he kept his opinion to himself.
