“Coming right up.” Morty strode away, whistling along to Lady Gaga.
“You see? This is how you do it.” Babushka sat taller.
“Do what?” Heather asked.
“Get a man.”
Heather scratched at her ear, she couldn’t have heard that right. “Sorry?”
“You play the hard to have.”
“Hard to get?”
“Yes. This is how you do it. I have decided I am a tiger.” The smack of Babushka’s napkin against the table was an exclamation point to her announcement.
What on earth was the woman jabbering about now? “A what?”
“A tiger. You know, a cheetah. A leopard.”
Maybe the stuff they used to dilate her eyes had seeped into her brain. “I’m not following.”
“Older woman goes after younger man,” Babushka explained.
“A cougar?” Heather asked.
“Yes. That is the one. I am cougar. Morty, he is ten years younger.”
A waitress with two star-shaped pasties covering her nipples dropped their drinks in front of them. Babushka downed her vodka and slapped the empty glass on the table. Heather was seriously reconsidering her choice to have water.
“If you’re so sure you’re dying, why start a relationship? Doesn’t that seem like a bad idea?”
“Oh, ve vill have an entrance romance.” Babushka nodded briskly.
A what? No, Heather didn’t want to know. But still… “Entrance?”
“You know. He sees other vomen. Ve don’t get too close. Just physical.” Babushka waggled her bushy eyebrows and…ew.
“An open relationship?”
“See, you know these things.”
Heather swirled the ice in her red plastic tumbler. “You’re really going to go after this guy?”
“No. He comes for me. This is how it is. Next time he asks, I vill say yes. This is vat you do vith Jason. You say no, make him work for it, but vhen time comes, you say yes.”
Not flipping likely.
“Heather Reese,” a male voice called.
“Yes?” She glanced up.
Shit. Jase.
Not happy-go-lucky, dancing Jase. Not the Jase who would be propositioning her for a tumble in a VIP room. Not with the way the blood vessel pulsed in his neck and the tips of his ears tinged red.
No, this was furious Jase.
Oh. Hell.
