“I don’t hate everything – just the people who piss me off.”
“Such as your dad.”
“You’re one of those people, yes.”
I take it on the chin and carry on.
“You don’t think I did this so that we’re not alone together, do you?”
My daughter dips a fried prawn into her garlic sauce, then looks at me.
“I think you did a nice thing, tonight.”
“S-seriously?” I need reassurance. I had prepared myself for a flurry of insults.
“He keeps looking back over here.”
“He does?”
“That kiss obviously didn’t go down well with him.”
“Fucking bastard.”
“Nice language, Kerry.”
“And you shouldn’t repeat it.”
She rolls her eyes as she chews her prawn, then continues. “You can tell he’s a dick.”
“Really?”
She nods, dipping another prawn into the sauce. My spicy chicken wings, on the other hand, are wilting away in front of me, waiting.
“Did he cheat on her withher?”
I don’t know whether I should be talking to my daughter about these things – especially when it’s Jordan’s business, not mine – but a woman at the table across from us leaps suddenly into the conversation.
“Not a nice guy,” she says, nodding towards Steven.
“Excuse me?”
“Everyone in town knows about it,” she says, trying to justify herself. “She kicked him out.”
“Good,” my daughter says. I feel myself burning with pride.
“See her?” she asks, pointing towards the woman he’s sitting with. “She’s only twenty. How old is he?”
“I imagine he’s thirty-eight, like me.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t think the age gap is the problem.”
“The problem is that he’s a dickhead,” my daughter adds. This time, I don’t tell her not to use that word. I couldn’t have thought of a better description.
“Men,” the woman says, shaking her head. “Always running after the longest legs, the perkiest breasts, the most well-toned backside.”
My daughter laughs and the woman turns back to her dinner.
