“Vomen are velcome, too. This is Morty’s place. Best steak in Denver. I alvays come after eye doctor.”
After she couldn’t see anymore.
“Always?” Heather confirmed.
“Oh yes, this vas my driver’s favorite.”
Well, Heather just bet. Her old driver appeared deserving of his firing.
“Your old driver? He brought you here?” Heather confirmed.
“Yes.” Babushkaharrumphed. “He knows good steak. Bad driver. Alvays goes so fast, but good vith picking restaurants.”
That point was debatable.
“He brought you here because you had your eyes dilated and you couldn’t see that…It. Is. A. Gentlemen’s. Club.” Not that there was anything wrong with that. A girl had to make a living. But Jase would likely murder Heather in her sleep if she took his presently blind grandmother to lunch at a place that also served up half-price lap dances between three and five p.m.
“This is no true. He also brings me to Le Peep for breakfast.” With that, Babushka pushed open the car door and scooted outside, her orthotic-covered feet shuffling across the parking lot.
Heather didn’t trust her in a parking lot. The woman could barely make it from the ophthalmologist’s office to the car without getting swiped by a Chevy. Heather rushed after her.
“You vill love steaks here,” Babushka assured with all the confidence of a mostly blind elderly woman entering a strip club.
It better be the best damn steak of her life, because Heather was pretty certain she’d have a front-row seat at her own funeral soon enough. Throat thick, she heaved open the metal door to follow Babushka straight past the vacant hostess station, through a darkened waiting area with leather-covered walls, and straight into the lion’s den. Low blue and pink lighting, fog-covered stage, polished poles where two women in bedazzled G-strings gyrated their hips to Lady Gaga for a couple of suits in the front row.
“Where are we going?” Heather stumbled along with Babushka.
She pointed toward the bar area, away from the stage. “My table is in back.”
Of course Babushka had her own table at the strip club. Becausethatmade total sense.
“Nadzieja.” An old man with a comb-over and a wide smile ambled toward them. “I was hoping you would come today.” He folded Babushka in a hug that seemed to go on a few seconds too long.
“Morty, it’s good to see you again.” Babushka leaned in for a cheek kiss as Morty held on a few seconds more. “This is Heather. She is Jase’s fiancée.”
Hell-to-the-no.
“Hello, I’m Heather.” She shook Morty’s warm hand. “DefinitelynotJase’s fiancée.”
Babushka climbed onto the barstool and gestured for Heather to join her. The thickness in Heather’s throat turned to ash. She glanced to the stage, to Babushka, finally settling on the varnish of the table. Perhaps she could step outside. Call Jase and explain what had happened. That would absolve her of any guilt.
“They have lover’s quarrel.” Babushka held her large purse tight against her lap, leveraging it between her knees and the table. “Vill make up soon enough.”
“Ah…my Nadzieja. Always taking care of her grandchildren.” Morty’s cheeky grin spread even wider. “When will you let me take you out and show you a good time?”
Was he…? Yes, he was hitting on the old battle-ax.
Babushka waved him aside. “I am here for lunch, not romance.”
“Ah, but my sweet, we have time for both.” He had the glimmer in his expression of a fox about to devour his victim. “Let me take you to my office. I’ll show you the time of your life.”
One, ew. And, two, now there was no way Heather could leave. He’d have Babushka in a VIP room before Heather could count to ten.
Babushka ignored his advances. “I vill have the steak. Medium. Vith vodka. The good kind.”
“She always turns me down. Someday I will get through.” Morty winked at Heather. “For you, my dear?”
Heather’s phone buzzed in her purse. She ignored it. The sooner they ordered their steaks, the quicker they could be out the door. “I’ll have the same. But water. Please.”
