Beckett nodded. “Everyone looks different when they aren’t in scrubs.”
Quinton laughed. “That’s why I like coming. It reminds me that I have a life outside of dog hair.”
He couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Is that why Daisy comes?” He cast a sidelong glance in Trent’s direction, totally hating the idea that Trent might be the reason Daisy comes.
Quinton stuck his tongue in his cheek like he did when he didn’t know how to answer a question. Beckett wished he could swallow back the words. He shouldn’t be asking about Daisy, and he certainly shouldn’t be asking Quinton.
The waitress settled between them, her pad poised and ready to take their order. Quinton turned his attention to her as he requested a blooming onion and a soda. Beckett went for the jalapeño poppers and chips and queso. The more he could stuff in his mouth, the less likely he’d be to say something stupid.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Trent rest his hand on Daisy’s shoulder to get her attention. Daisy leaned back and Trent whispered something in her ear that made her giggle.
Beckett looked away, his neck hot. Had he been a cartoon, steam would have blown out of his ears. The waitress arrived with their drinks and Beckett grasped his with two hands, gulping down the liquid that was cold enough to burn.
He took a critical look at Trent, sizing him up. His dirty blond hair was parted on the side and hung longer in the front than on the sides like some skater kid from the nineties. He was thin but not tall, with a fitted shirt—thanks to Daisy, he knew what that meant—and skinny jeans. Unfortunately, he also knew that Trent had the body type to wear skinny jeans. He ran his hands through his untamed hair, worried about what was happening to him.
He leaned to the side, entering the personal space of the guy next to him in an attempt to get in on Daisy’s conversation. The guy gave him a whatcha-doin’? look. Beckett ignored him. “Vivian,” he said loudly.
She turned his direction and smiled. “Hey.” Her eyes darted to Quinton and then back to him. The glance was only a glance, but he thought he saw something akin to attraction there.
In a flash of brilliance, he asked, “Can I trade you seats?”
She checked around her, as if a man sitting at the table wasn’t done. Well, maybe it wasn’t cool for him to be there, but Beckett would have a much better chance of keeping Trent off of Daisy if he was sitting in Vivian’s spot.
“Uh, sure.” Vivian stood.
With a lot of “I’m sorrys” and “please excuse mes,” Beckett’s backside ended up right where he wanted to be.
Daisy scowled. “What’d you make her move for?”
Beckett pressed his finger to his lips before pointing towards Quinton and Vivian, thankful for the excuse. Quinton’s knee wagged back and forth like a puppy dog’s tail as they talked, and Vivian looked up at him through lowered lashes. He wished Daisy would look at him like that. She kind of had, when they were shopping, after he’d thanked her viewers.
“Oh. My. Gosh.” Daisy covered her mouth and just stared at them. “Why didn’t I see this?” she hissed.
Beckett leaned back in his chair. The table wasn’t that big and there were already three women’s legs underneath. He had nowhere to stretch out and shifted awkwardly. “You’ve been too busy focusing on me.” He made sure his voice was loud enough to carry back a row. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Trent lift his hand to touch Daisy’s shoulder again. Beckett turned his legs to the side and put his arm across the back of Daisy’s seat, effectively blocking Trent’s move. “Do you mind?” he asked Daisy. “It’s kind of cramped.”
She shook her head, the tendrils around her face brushing her cheek. “It’s fine.”
Trent kicked the back of his chair. Beckett chose to believe it was an accident and ignored it. A spotlight came on and the MC stepped onto the stage to warm up the crowd.
“How’s everybody doing tonight?” He was answered with polite applause. “We’ve got a great show planned for you with something special thrown in. You didn’t come here to see me, so without further ado, let’s give it up for: Mimevizzion.”
“No way!” Daisy clapped enthusiastically along with most of the crowd.
Beckett gave her a questioning look.
She leaned towards him to talk over the crowd. “He has his own channel and he’s hilarious.” Her minty breath was warm and cool on his neck as she spoke.
Beckett tightened his arm around her while he scrambled for a response that would keep her close. “You’ll have to show me when we get home.”
She nodded, her eyes big. Trent chose that moment to lean forward and talk in her other ear, causing Daisy to move to that side. Beckett trailed his fingers up and down her arm while keeping his eyes on the stage, hoping he was putting off an air of casual familiarity with Daisy that would tell Trent to back off.
Mimevizzion waddled out on stage with a bag of props. He took his time setting things down, making funny faces as he did so and letting the anticipation grow.
Beckett didn’t relax until Trent leaned back in his seat. He waited for Daisy to lean into him, but she stayed in the exact center of her chair, her hands wrapped around her soda. Their food arrived and Beckett offered his chips up for the table. The ladies dug in while they watched the show.
Mimevizzion called an audience member up on stage and had him put on a bowler hat. As soon as it settled on the guy’s head, a sappy love song came over the speakers. Mimevizzion took it off and the music stopped. He looked stunned. Then, he put the hat on his head and theMiami Vicetheme song came on. He bobbed his head and threw on a pair of wraparound sunglasses. The audience laughed at his antics. He took the hat off and the music stopped. When he put it back on his volunteer, the speakers blared, “Lollipop, lollipop. Oh, Lolli, lollipop.”
The poor guy yanked the hat off himself, which only made everyone laugh harder.
