This restaurant looked like something out of a James Bond Shanghai scene. Everything about it signalled top dollar. She’d be lucky to afford a tip, let alone a meal.
Hayley opened her mouth to speak.
Dean beat her to it. ‘Of course you can.’
‘Do they have ice cream?’
‘Only the best ice cream in Manhattan.’
‘Dean…’ Hayley started as Angel headed to the door. ‘This place looks lovely but it also looks like somewhere Kim and Kanye would come to be seen.’ She let a breath out. ‘It looks expensive and?—’
Dean reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s on me.’
‘You can’t do that the whole time we’re here, Dean.’ She locked eyes with him. ‘And I don’t want you to. It isn’t fair.’
Dean smiled. ‘Tonight is my treat.’ He patted her shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s fill you both up with New York’s good stuff.’
Hayley smiled. She had to admit the thought of sweet and sour chicken and the best ice cream in Manhattan was more than a little tempting. And if she ran into Kimye… well, she’d maybe suggest that Kim’s colouring went much better with gold than red.
Tony let out a belch. ‘So what was she like?’
Oliver creased his brow at the question. ‘Who?’
‘Miss Less-Than-Twenty-Four-Hours-Ago.’
Christa. This one he remembered the name of. ‘If I’m honest, a little bit creepy.’
‘Yeah?’ Tony shifted his body forward in his seat and looked increasingly interested.
‘She made me pretend I was a lemur.’
Tony laughed out loud, a sound that echoed the whole way round the restaurant and back again like an audible boomerang.
‘It’s not funny,’ Oliver hissed.
‘I don’t see the issue.’ Tony wiped his face with his napkin.
‘It works in your perverted world maybe.’
‘Did you get her number?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Shame,’ Tony grinned. ‘I would have been any animal she wanted me to be.’
Oliver shook his head at his friend as Tony’s mobile phone erupted into life.
‘Hey,’ Tony answered, shifting back in his chair. ‘Momma, no, I can’t.’ He rolled his eyes as he looked to Oliver. ‘Momma, Ivano does this every second week…’ He continued the conversation in loud Italian Oliver had no hope of ever translating even if he did know some of the language.
Oliver toyed with his food and finally lay down his chopsticks in defeat. He just wasn’t hungry and he sensed what was coming. Tony ended the call and picked up his beer bottle, downing the contents.
‘I’ve got to go,’ Tony announced.
‘Trouble at the restaurant.’
‘Another one of Ivano’s diva moments. He’s walked out. Momma needs help in the kitchen.’
‘You’re going to cook? You hate cooking,’ Oliver reminded him.
