The appetizers arrive, and Chad digs in. The fish smells delicious, but I stubbornly told him I don’t like fish, so I have to pick at the stupid fried cauliflower. I don’t even like cauliflower.
“This is fantastic shrimp,” Chad says through a full mouth, his words muffled. He points at me with a dangling shrimp. “That cauliflower looks gross.”
Yes, what an encouraging thing to say to someone who’seatingthe gross thing.
As far as dating a drug dealer who showed up late and ordered food for me goes, this isn’t theworstdate I’ve been on. That title goes to Arthur, then Jay, so I tell myself to stick it out without texting Emi our bail word or running through the emergency exit. What does that say about me that a date with a self-employed drug dealer who doesn’t know my name and has minimal manners is an all right date? I feel like laughing out loud, then maybe crying.
“So, you like art or something?” Chad says, not slowing down as he stuffs his face. He’s doing pretty good on his own, and I force myself not to drool over the calamari. Why did I have to say I don’t like fish?
“Yeah, I really enjoy painting,” I say suspiciously, since this is the first time he’s taking an interest in something other than my boobs. “There’s an exhibit open this week I wanted to go to, but it’s sold out, and today’s the last day.”
“Cool cool cool.” Chad wipes his mouth on the cloth napkin and throws it on the table. “I am stuffed. Are you going to leave that cauliflower there? You barely touched it, and it’s like twenty dollars for those four little pieces.”
My fingernails dig into my palms. “Well, if you hadasked, I would’ve told you I’m not the biggest fan of cauliflower.” Then, because I can’t help myself, I add, “But you can afford it, right? Good thing yourbusinessis doing so well.”
He nods vigorously, assuming his relaxed demeanor. “Oh yeah. This dinner isn’t even a fraction of what I spend in a day.” A waitress comes and clears our plates. My stomach protests when she takes away the half plate of calamari he left. But that’s the price of taking a stand, I guess.
Chad continues to tell me all about his expensive buying habits, and I consciously remind myself not to roll my eyes as he drones on and on about Jet Ski this and helicopter ride that, and it’s all I can do not to pull out my phone and read from the dictionary app, since that would be a hell of a lot more interesting than this. But because every so often I can feel Jay’s eyes burning into my skull from across the room, I force a polite smile on my face and nod like I’m paying attention.
Every time I try to get a word in, Chad talks over me to brag about himself, so by the time the entrees arrive, I stop bothering.
My steak is fat and juicy and sizzling and looks like it’ll be worth every cent of the seventy-five dollars Chad is going to shell out for it. After sitting through a good thirty minutes of him going on and on about his money, I decide to not worry about being polite and not offer to pay for my half when the bill comes. Heinsisted, after all.
We dig into our steaks, and for once I’m glad he doesn’t care to hear me talk, because I’m way too busy savoring this delicious meal. I was right; itisworth every cent of the extreme price, and I’m torn between wanting to stuff it down my throat or take my time and savor it.
A server holding a slice of cake with lit sparklers walks by us, and I track her all the way to Jay’s table, where she places it in front of a guy I’m assuming is Zach.
“You know that guy?” Chad asks, gesturing at Jay. “He looks over here every once in a while.”
I shake my head nonchalantly and cut into my steak. “Nope. Maybe he’s interested in you.”
Horror fills Chad’s face, and at that exact time, Jay looks over at our table. It’s too perfect, I have to shove a piece of steak in my mouth to stop from laughing out loud.
“He isn’t my type,” Chad says as if I needed clarification.
I resist a giggle. “Good to know.”
Annoyance edges in and snuffs out my cheerfulness. The only part of this date that’s actually enjoyable is the part that involves Jay, and the same went for my date with Arthur. My mood sours instantly at the thought.
“I’m so full,” Chad announces, leaning back in his seat and letting out a very impolite burp. “I have no room for dessert; let’s get the bill.”
As usual, I see he’s taking my opinion into consideration.Not.
I play with the last bits of my baked potato. “Sure,” I agree.
The sooner we get the bill, the sooner we can get out of here, meaning this date is almost over and I’ll never have to see Sunglasses Chad the Drug Dealer again. Compared to my other dates, it wasn’tterrible, but was it good? No. Not even in the slightest. I will not settle for a person just because he didn’t outright insult me like Jay did or bring his mom on a date like Arthur did. I deserve more than that.
At Chad’s request, our waitress brings us our bill, and Chad grabs it from the center of the table. He opens the little black book the bill comes in, glances at the number printed at the bottom, then shuts the book. His facial expression gives nothing away, but it must be a large number. Our steaks alone were $150, and that’s before all his appetizers, taxes, and the tip.
Chad pats his pockets. “Huh.”
“‘Huh’ what?” I ask, staring at him expectantly.
His face remains unchanged, almost eerily calm. “Hey, what shoes are you wearing? I’m assuming they’re not sneakers, right?”
That’s random. “Um, no. I’m wearing heels.” As one does when one comes to Delphine.
“Right, right, that’s what I thought.” He pauses for a moment, his lips pursed in thought. “Why don’t you meet me outside? I’ll meet you at the car, and we can go for mini golf or something.”