“Be curious about your neighbor, not some questionable father all the way across the country.”
“His story touched her.”
“He’s a forlorn father trying to find some ass through a radio show.” JP claps. “Job well done, Tom Hanks. You were able to sweep lonely and desperate women off their feet from miles away.”
“Oh my God, you’re... you’re gross.”
“Gross?” he asks, his hand landing on the table. “How am I the gross one? I’m not chasing tail across the country, using my son as bait.”
“Um, Sam Baldwin had no idea that’s what was happening. If you recall, he was absolutely distraught over his son’s disappearance.”
“Okay, sure, he pulled his hand from under his woman’s shirt long enough to realize his son was missing. Great parenting. But put all of that aside, and you really think they would’ve fallen for each other? They caught one glimpse of each other and then all of a sudden, they were at the top of the Empire State Building, and in love? There’s absolutely no believability to their relationship. If that movie had an epilogue, it would show them awkwardly realizing the next morning that they live over three thousand miles apart, he lives on a houseboat, and they have absolutely nothing in common other than idiotic spontaneity.”
I stare at him, my body thrumming with irritation. The back of my neck feels like it’s on fire, my palms are so sweaty I have to restrain myself from wiping them on my dress, and my jaw is clenched so tight that my cheeks are hurting.
“Are you done ripping apart my favorite movie?”
“I think so.” He smiles.
“Good. Now,Rotten Tomatoes, tell me your favorite movie.”
“Why, so you can pretend you don’t like it and attempt to give it the tongue-lashing I just unleashed on your favorite movie? I’m good, thanks.”
“How do you know I’m going to be negative about your favorite movie? I might like it.”
“How do I know you’re going to be negative? Because for the past five minutes, I’ve watched you mentally plot my death. My guess is when we’re done with this dinner, you’re going to push me down the stairs on our way out, tumbling me into a coma.”
Wrong. It involves a solid twenty minutes of forking... and not the sexual kind!
“You know, if I’m going to get caught, planting my knife in your chest might be more satisfactory.”
“Jesus,” he says, horrified.
Embarrassment falls over me. The knife might have gone a bit too far. “You’re right, that was uncalled for. I think the trip down the stairs is more my style.”
He chuckles. “Glad I don’t have to whisk your knife away when you’re not looking.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. I don’t look good in orange. Committing a crime is not for me.”
“So orange is not the new black for you?”
“No.” I cross my leg over the other and ask, “So, what’s your favorite movie? You owe me this much.”
“I owe you nothing.”
“JP, this has been an uneventful evening that I’m begging to end and you’ve made it that much more unbearable. Please, delight me with your nonsensical movie choice. Or I’m going to start guessing.”
“That sounds more appealing. Start guessing.”
Heaving a heavy sigh, I compose myself and ask, “Is it porn?”
“Come on, I have more class than that.”
“Debatable, but I’ll rule that out just for now. Hmm.” I make a show of tapping my chin. “Based on your disdain for romantic comedies, I’m going to lean more toward some blood-and-gore action flick. And since you try to hold the high-and-mighty card, I’m going to guess your favorite movie is something likeBraveheart.”
“Nope.” He shakes his head.
“The Godfather?”
