Down a rotted hole.
You’re just like ground meat,
Nothing but a mole.”
I stare at Benson as he sings what I’m guessing he thinks is a hit song. Lie steps up next to me a few seconds later. “What the hell is he singing?” Lie says, disgust lacing his voice.
“Through a blender
Up in the air
Where she lets me bend her
And pull her long hair.”
“It’s like he’s trying, and poorly, to prove that he’s straight with the shittiest song I’ve ever heard,” Mike says as he steps up beside us. “He’s literally engagingno onewith that trash. I’ve counted no less than eighteen disgusted faces glancing his way and then turning their back on the band.”
I shake my head.
“There are my two favorite guys.”
My attention is gratefully snagged as Nason and Miranda take seats at the bar in front of where we’re sitting. Nason with a beaming smile as he looks between me and Lie.
My skin flushes as images of what I was doing to his one and only child flash in front of my eyes. Guilt makes my chest tight.
“Hey, Dad. Mom,” Lie says.
“What’s got you all staring?” Miranda asks.
“Listening to this weird-ass song,” Lie says.
That makes his parents turn toward the stage. The lyrics go back to grinding animals in blenders and shit as it wraps up. We’re all still staring at them when he ends the song. There are a few lackluster claps, which irritate Ben.
“That isn’t one Onyx wrote,” Lie says as his parents turn toward us again.
“How can he thinkanyoneis going to like that song?” Miranda says. “It’s grotesque.”
“One of the many things he’s delusional about,” Lie says, rolling his eyes. “You want drinks? Want to try Laiken’s new menu?” He looks at me with a big smile, making my heart flutter in my chest, warring with the guilt that I feel with Nason here.
“Yes, we’d love to see a menu,” Miranda says. “I’ll take a daiquiri.”
“Just give me a beer,” Dad says as he leans into Miranda’s side to share the menu she takes from my hand.
“Strawberry,” I tell Lie as I pick up a glass and bring it to the tap. I’ve been serving them drinks since I began working here. I know what they like, though I do enjoy mixing it up without telling them and seeing them make faces at me.
I smirk as I fill the glass.
“This is a much better song,” says one of the men, to whom I’d brought food a few minutes ago.
I chuckle. “How’s the food?” I ask, since I’m close.
“These are the best tacos I’ve had in eons,” one says.
“I’ll let Chef know. You guys need anything?”
“More napkins,” they say together and laugh.
Once I’m finished filling Nason’s beer, I let it sit for a minute while I find them better napkins than the little squares drinks sit on. “Make sure you leave room for dessert. Trust me when I tell you the calories are worth it.”
