She said as much, did she not? Why is that little nugget stuck in my head?
I frown as the wall bumps into me.
Or possibly that’s me bumping into the wall.
Would it be uncouth to sip straight from the bottle?
“Quit playing games and open the goddamn door, Bea,” Jake says.
“If you speak to her like that again, you’ll find yourself one with the door,” I hear myself say.
“Simon?” Bea says.
“Yes, darling?”
“If I get out of this bathroom alive, I swear I’ll cook you whatever you want for dinner to apologize for being a complete asshole to you.”
“Not in my kitchen,” Jake says.
“Touch grass, you fucking codpiece,” she snaps back. “Also, Simon?”
“Yes?”
“Will you please go across the street to the miniature golf course and find Ryker and tell him that the fire truck that’s on its way is because I’m stuck in a bathroom and not because there’s a fire?”
“You called the fucking fire department?” Jake says.
“I’m fucking stuck in your bathroom because your doorknob is fucking broken.”
“Because you broke it.”
“I didnotbreak your damn doorknob. And I don’t have my phone, so I didn’t call the fire department. Your staff did because it’s what they’re fucking supposed to do.”
I share a look with Tank.
Bea sounds rather breathless and almost at the point of tears.
And that’s likely what makes the bubbly do more talking for me. “Jake, old chap, get the fuck out of my way so that I can rescue my date.”
“How much is she paying you to do this?” he growls at me. “Tell me. How—urp.”
Fascinating.
I wish I were sober enough to fully understand whatever move that is that Tank has just performed on the bloke to get him twisted up like a pretzel and out of the way of the door.
But I’m not sober enough, and I don’t honestly give a rat’s arse how it happened.
I simply know it’s time for this portion of my date with Bea to be over.
“Beatrice, back up,” I order. “I’m going to break the bloody door down.”
“You—what?” she says.
“Step away from the door, darling. I’m about to be your hero once again.”
11
I WOULD LIKE OFF OF THIS RIDE, PLEASE
