What if that was really what this meeting was about? What if he was going to tell me that we were done?
Salem slid into the booth across from me and smiled. I kept my mouth closed but managed to fake a smile. James and Garrett were carrying on some nonsense small talk about traffic in the Malibu area. As I worried about the possible demise of James and me, I glanced around the restaurant, at each of them, and at Salem. My knee nervously bounced as my eyes were busy moving around. I pretended to concentrate on the menu when James put his hand on my knee to calm me down.
I looked up from the menu at Salem, then quickly looked away. Why was she staring at me? Could she see the scars by my mouth? Had Garrett told her how he found me?
“Did you decide on what you’d like for lunch, pup?” James asked me quietly as he picked up his menu. I shook my head in response, but he rubbed his hand smoothly on my thigh, and I gave him a vocal answer.
“I don’t know.”
The BLT looked really good, but I didn’t want them to see me eat. I quickly glanced at the soups because those were easier to eat in front of others.
“Did you find something, pup?” James asked after another few moments passed.
That was twice now he’d called me ‘pup’ in front of them. He wouldn’t do that if he was going to get rid of me, would he?
“I think I’ll get the potato soup,” I said quietly as to not disrupt the conversation that Garrett and Salem were having. James told me that the potato soup looked like a good choice, and he was considering it too. When it came time to order, James ended up getting the BLT and a cup of the same soup as I did.
While we waited for the food, I felt kind of awkward and like I should say something. I thought about what I could say to show that I was polite and not a dick, but nothing was coming to mind at all. James and Garrett carried the conversation, and Salem would chime in here and there. After listening to them for a while, I finally found a place to cut in. I glanced at Salem, and she quickly looked away.
“So, are you from Southern California?” I asked Salem.
She raised her eyebrows and looked surprised when she heard my voice. What, did she think I was a mute or something?
“I am, yes,” Salem answered and then reached for her glass.
Garrett looked ecstatic that she was talking. Maybe it was hard for her to talk to people other than him. She messed with the straw for a few seconds, took a sip, and then looked up at me when she set the glass on the table.
“I was born in San Diego, and we lived there until I was four or so. Then my mom and I moved around Southern California a lot.”
I wondered if she had been reunited with her mom since being back. Though, I didn’t know how long she had been with Sebastian. I thought she had replaced Alicia after Sebastian killed her. Suddenly, I felt sick, and my mouth had gone dry. It was as though James knew because he leaned back against the booth and put his arm on top of the cushion behind me. He let his hand drop and rest against my right shoulder and rubbed on my upper arm.
“Are you originally from California?” she asked me.
I nodded at first, but then cleared my throat to speak.
“Yes. I was born in Los Angeles and lived with my mom in Beverly Hills.”
Why did I feel ashamed to say that? Maybe I shouldn’t have said it. Did it seem like I was being a dick and bragging? Her eyes widened and a smile broke out on her face.
“That’s where I lived before … well, that’s where I lived last,” she offered up.
“Oh? That’s cool. How did you like it?” I asked, trying to find something to say.
“Honestly? I didn’t really,” she answered.
“I get it.”
Salem went into full-blown deep conversation mode now that we had established some connection, other than the obvious. Our food was brought to our table, and as soon as the server left, Salem started chatting again.
“It’s like so many people there are clueless. They live in their bubble world and think everything revolves around them. Or that money is the answer to everything,” she ranted.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I said as I put a few dashes of salt on my soup.
I remembered all of the times my mom acted like throwing money at me would compensate her from having to spend more than five minutes with me. She’d buy me anything and everything to make things “right” for not being around track or soccer. Or everything else.
“Did you go to a private school?” she asked.
“No. I went to Beverly Hills High.”
