He wants toextendthis date? He knows nothing about me other than I don’t like fish—which isn’t even true—and that I like art. But the way he’s shifting is suspicious.
“Is everything all right?”
He pushes the bill to the side. “Here’s the deal. I don’t have my wallet, and the bill is way more than I expected it to be.”
I feel like face-palming or punching him. Maybe both. “Okay . . . how much is it?”
As soon as I flip open the little black book and glance down at the number, I choke. The bill is $282.59 without the tip, which is already more than I make in an entire week at the bakery.
“I can’t afford this!” I exclaim, glaring daggers at him. He’s the one who ordered all the appetizers and one of the most expensive items on the menu for our entrée!
“Relax, it’s all good,” he says, taking the bill from my hand and setting it back on the table. “Remember when I said we got a perfect table?”
“Yes, but I don’t understand what that has to—”
“Grab your purse. Meet me at the car; I parked near the back. On the count of three.”
I’m so confused I can barely follow his line of thought. What is he talking about?
“Three!”He jumps up from the table and rushes toward the emergency door. I rise from my seat as soon as I realize what he’s doing.
“Chad,no!”
I’m too late. At the last second, Chad motions me forward then pushes open the door, and, surprise surprise, the signwasn’tlying. The alarm actually goes off, and it’s deafeningly loud, screeching and flashing and making sure not a single person isn’t looking over. Chad’s disappeared outside, and I’m standing beside the table with a guilty expression on my face. Everyone’s staring at me like I’ve done something heinous. My friends keep telling me to let loose, but skipping out on a $282.59 bill isnotsomething I’m willing to do.
“Is there a problem here?” Nina asks me, flanked by two security guards.Security guards!They know something is up, and their menacing expressions mean business. She’s no longer the smiling waitress who greeted me. “Should we call the police?”
I gulp and shake my head slowly, sinking back down into my seat. “No, no! No problem!”
“The emergency door is for emergenciesonly,” a guard says, and the alarm finally turns off. My relief is immediate and premature, since I’m still in a lot of trouble here.
“I’m sorry. The guy I was with had an emergency. He . . . he, uh . . . pooped his pants! Yes. And it was our first date, so he got embarrassed and fled. I’m very sorry for the disturbance.”
The three of them eye me, then look at the empty little black bill book sitting blatantly against the stark white table cloth.
“Uh-huh,” Nina says, not convinced. “I’ll be right over to collect payment. Cash or card?”
I squeak. Like literally, audibly squeak, which doesn’t win me any points with the three of them. “Um, card?”
She nods once and leaves. Security backs away too, but they don’t go far.
Shit.Shit shit SHIT. Stupid effing Chad and his stupid effing face and his stupid effingexistence.
I don’t have that kind of money on me. I didn’t bring a credit card, and I only have $120 in cash. I never even thought I’d need to spend it all; I had it just in case. Clearly that was not enough, because now I’m majorly and royally and all other kinds of screwed.
I could call Kalani and ask her to come with her credit card—itisher fault I’m in this position—but she’s at a movie and probably won’t answer her phone. Emi doesn’t have a job and gets money by asking her dad, so I don’t even know if she could get that amount together in the time I need, plus I don’t want to put her in that position for me. I’m going to have to call my parents.God, they’re going to kill me.For lying to them, for going on a date with a morally questionable drug dealer, and for getting myself into this predicament.
Internally, I’m screaming and punching the table and kicking Chad in the balls. Externally, I’m calmly sitting at the table, looking through my purse as if money will magically appear the longer I stare into it.
“Problem?”
Tensing, I look up and meet Jay’s dark eyes. Behind him, his friends are standing up from their seats and putting on their jackets.
“Nope,” I say, but it comes out too high-pitched and squeaky.
He’s not convinced. “Uh-huh. So, what was that whole thing with your date running out the emergency door? Because from where we were sitting, it sure looked like he ski—”
“He skipped out on the bill!” I erupt, the stress not letting me stick to my everything-is-fine ruse. There’s something about Jay that always forces me to tell him the truth, no matter how terrible. “Chad ordered a shit-ton of food and said everything was on him, then he skipped out on the bill, and now I’m stuck paying two hundred eighty-two dollars and fifty-nine cents, plus tip, and I only have a hundred and twenty dollars in my purse, and I lied to my parents about what I’m doing tonight, and I can’t call my friends for various reasons, and I’m probably going to jail.” It all comes out in one breath, and even though I feel better saying it out loud, I’m not any closer to figuring out what to do.