“Sure, shoot.” I fold the menu and place it back on the table knowing I’m ordering the usual.
“What’s so special about you? Is it the tattoos?” His question isn’t accusatory, more curious. Does he have a thing for Olive?
“I’m going to need more to go on here . . . I’m not special.”
“You don’t even try, and the women they just, well, I’ve seen it at the bar so many times. They just gravitate toward you. What’s your secret?”
His question makes me laugh so hard there are tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. Howie’s face instantly deflates.
“I’m sorry. I know from your perspective it might seem that way. I’m only laughing because it couldn’t be further from the truth. Sure, the ones I’m not interested in might think I’d be fun to take for a spin, but that’s all it is. The ones—and let me say there have been very few, maybe one—that I’ve actually seen a future with, don’t even text me back.” I slump down in my chair. I didn’t really plan on telling anyone outside the family how much this Olive thing is getting me down.
“Are you talking about Olive?” Howie asks, a mixture of relief and pity on his face.
Sabrina, the server working the patio, approaches to take our order. We both go with the Reuben and Harvest Moon drafts. When she walks away, Howie turns his hand over at me as if to say out with it.
“Yeah, man. She’s different, and I’m falling hard for her. It’s too fast, and I know it’s probably destined to blow up in my face, but I don’t know. Wait—you guys are friends. Forget what I said.” I shake my head and look out across the square.
“Sam, I know we aren’t really friends, but I’d like to be. And this is Vegas. What happens on the patio stays on the patio.”
Sabrina returns with our beers, placing them down and confirming the rules of Union. “He’s right, Sam. What happens on the patio stays on the patio, and Howie is the most trustworthy man I know. You’re in good hands.” She leaves as quickly as she came, her sentiment hanging in the air.
“Okay, fine. Vegas rules. Olive won’t text me back. I took her out last night, but she said she was sick and bailed early, and now she’s ghosting me and I’m a fuckin’ wreck.”
His eyes practically pop out of their sockets when he looks at me. “She’s not ghosting you. The she-devil is in town.”
“The what?”
“The she-devil. I don’t actually know her mom, but from what Ariella has said, and seeing her strut up and down the square most of the day with her nose in the air, I’d wager it’s a pretty accurate name.” He shrugs and takes a long, slow pull of his drink. “Besides, Olive’s just got a lot going on. At least you have someone to ghost you. By the way, what is ghosting exactly?”
“Hold up. You’re younger than me. How do you not know?” I check his expression to see if he’s fucking with me, but it’s clear he isn’t. “Ghosting is when you’re talking to someone and then they just stop responding. Like radio silence, no communication. Like a ghost disappearing into the night.”
“Oh, so what every girl I’ve ever liked has done to me. Good to know I can call it something now.” More beer disappears from his glass as he sinks lower into his seat.
“Alright, as much as I want to unpack everything you said about Olive, it appears we have bigger fish to fry today. What’s going on, and who do I need to be mad at?”
“W-w-what? Mad? There’s no one to be mad at.” His denial only makes me more curious. This is a good distraction. It’s nice to not be alone in my misery.
“Is it Sabrina? I saw her eyeing you. Is there something going on there?”
“Ew, no. She’s my cousin.”
“Okay . . . hmm. Is it Allie Walker? I saw her chatting you up at the Hollow Hearts Festival.”
“She wasn’t chatting me up. Whatever that means. Why would a girl like that be into a guy like me?” He motions from his hair down to his shoes.
“Howie, is that short for Howard?”
“Yes?”
“Howard, listen up. It’s time for you to get one of my world-famous pep talks—”
“What are we giving poor Howie a pep talk for?” Xav slaps me on the shoulder from behind. He slings a white paper bag overflowing with to-go containers onto our table and sits backward in a chair while leaning his chin in his hands in intrigue. He must have spotted us on his way home with carryout.
“It’s fine, I do not need a pep talk.” Howie finishes his beer and waves at Sabrina to bring another. I’m starting to like him more and more by the minute. Did I see my day ending up with me and Howie drinking our feelings together? No. Am I mad about it? Also, no.
“As I was saying, you need a pep talk, and Xav here is in the circle of trust since I’ve had to give him damn near a thousand of these over the years.”
“Scout’s honor, it’s the bro code. What happens in a pep talk is sacred.” Xav holds three fingers up for proof.
