Laughing, I bumped Manny’s fist. “You got it.”
Traffic held us up, so it was close to five by the time we walked inside the bar. After Manny ordered himself a beer and me a Tito’s and soda, we took a seat in a booth. I scanned the sticky plastic menu. “I wouldn’t mind a snack.”
“Johnny’s always lecturing me on eating healthy, so I want to get my junk-food fix while I can.” There weren’t many customers yet—a couple of older men sitting in a corner, eating burgers, and a bunch of twentysomethings at the bar, drinking drafts and doing shots. I winced, remembering how out of control the guys in the frat house would get at that combination. One of the guys caught me staring, and I quickly looked away, but not before I saw him elbowing his friends.
The bartender came over to us. “You want food?”
Charming personality he was not, but I was hungry. Behind him, several of the guys at the bar whispered and snickered.
Oblivious, Manny scanned the menu. “Should we do the appy platter?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Thanks. That’s it, I think.” Manny returned the laminated card to its holder.
“Okay. It’ll be about ten minutes.”
“No problem.” Keeping an eye on the guys at the bar, I sipped my drink.
“You seem distracted. Don’t let those jerks bug you.”
Surprised, I set my glass on the coaster. “You saw them?”
Resignation deepened Manny’s eyes to a rich, dark brown. “I’m used to it. In a place like this, where I’m not sure if I’ll be safe, I always check out my surroundings.”
“Jesus,” I muttered. “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t be that way.” I wondered if this was how it was for Bailey too. He was such a good guy—like Manny.
“Maybe one day it won’t. I try and be optimistic.”
Our food came, and it was decent pub fare. As he ate, Manny’s mood lightened. “So tell me more about you, aside from the fact that you’re not married, not looking, and don’t like Weston Lively.” His white teeth flashed bright in his handsome face.
I licked my fingers free of the sticky wing sauce and wiped them on the napkin. For a moment, I watched him eat. He’d chosen to be vulnerable with me, so I decided it was only fair I did the same.
“I grew up in foster care. From what I was told, there was a drug raid at our house, and my mother ran out with her boyfriend, leaving me behind. I was asleep in a playpen. They took me to ACS, and when I was given a medical exam, they found remnants of weed and some other drugs in my system. Maybe I’d gotten into whatever was passed around in the house. Who knows?”
As I spoke, Manny stopped eating the wing he’d picked up, his eyes never leaving my face. There was more to tell him, but I couldn’t. The words stuck in my throat, their ugliness coating my insides with the pain I’d grown up with.
“And look what you made of yourself. You ended up with good foster parents, I hope?”
A smile tugged at my lips. “It took a few tries, but yeah. My mom died first year of law school, but my dad, Bill, is in Florida now. They were the best. Never let me think I wasn’t good enough because of where I came from. They told me I could do whatever I wanted and encouraged me to work hard and to not pay attention to kids who made fun of me because I didn’t have ‘real parents.’”
“Kids can be cruel. And I’m sure your dad is very proud of you. Look how far you’ve come.”
We resumed eating and finished off the food, leaving nothing but bones and crumbs behind. I remembered why we were there and stuck one of the coasters into my pocket. A quick check of my phone showed me that the rest of our team had completed their tasks and were returning to home base. “Now that we have the things off our list, I guess we should be getting back. We do want to win. Everyone else is ready.”
“Hey, Brenner?” I met Manny’s eyes and saw the sympathy in them but no pity. Still, it was like a fist squeezing my heart to give away the pieces of myself. “Thanks for sharing that part of your life. I know it’s not easy. When I was in law school, I volunteered at several youth shelters, and I know how kids get caught up in the foster-care system. You’re a success story.”
“I think we both are.”
Manny’s hand covered mine and squeezed. Hard. We stayed that way for several moments, and then I raised my hand to the bartender. “Can we get the check, please?”
He brought it to us, and I set my credit card on the tray. “I’ll pay the tip in cash.”
“I’ll get your receipt.” The unsmiling man walked away.
Manny reached for his wallet, but I waved him off. “It’s not a big deal. Buy me a couple of drinks at the bar tonight, and we’ll call it even.”
“All right, then. I’ll call for the car.”
