I close the book, wiping my dry lips with the back of my hand and then with each other.
CHAPTER FIVE
“See you tonight. Happy Hour at Darby’s,” the text on my phone reads. It’s from Matthew. From Diagnostics. It’s midday on Friday, and I’m wondering where the week has gone.
I don’t remember actually agreeing to go, and I haven’t actually declined, so I’m holding my phone tightly, encouraging myself that this will be great. It’ll be good to hang out with some of the guys from his department. I’ll have fun.
I text back: “See you then.”
As I walk into Darby’s, Matthew sees me from across the bar and begins waving, shoulder tapping the guys around him, pointing at me and yelling. Fortunately, the bar is so loud that no one actually notices the commotion, except me. I make my way across the bar, and Matthew meets me halfway, shaking my hand with a strong grasp while his other hand firmly grabs my forearm. He’s beaming back and forth between me and the group and I feel like I’m being pulled into something warm.
“Liam, it’s good to see you.” I hear from someone, I think his name is Jordan. He’s reaching across the high-top table for a shake.
“Everett,” says another, addressing me by my last name with a head nod. This is Max. “How’re things in engineering?”
I’m nodding and shaking hands and laughing and trying to remember names: Max, Jordan, Amir, Joacim.
“Before the waitress gets here, we should let you in on our game,” Joacim is saying. The other guys are smiling and laughing.
Matthew throws his arm around my neck, squeezing my shoulder. “Here’s the deal: When the waitress comes over, order a drink that sounds like a real drink, but isn’t. First person to get called out, buys the first round.” He looks me in the eye and squeezes my shoulder again.
“You in?” Max is pointing with two hands.
“What?” I’m trying to absorb the chaos. I see the waitress heading our way.
“Just make it sound believable enough that she doesn’t question it,” Jordan says, throwing a handful of nuts into his mouth.
“If she calls you out, the round is on you.” Amir has his arms crossed and his ‘I dare you’ face on.
Suddenly the waitress is here. “What’re we having, gentlemen.” She’s dressed all in black, tight against her skin, with a small apron tied snugly around her waist. She lays a hand on the high-top table, gray nails brushing the surface gracefully.
“I’ll have a ‘full stack,’” Max says, raising a hand like he’s holding a martini glass. I guess it works, because her gaze cycles around the table.
“I’ll have a falcon, and make it a double,” says Amir. She looks for a moment at him, and then presses on.
“Northern exposure, on the rocks,” Jordan says. She immediately moves on.
I find myself growing visibly nervous. I think my hands are twitching under the table.
Matthew is next: “I’ll have a fourth floor.”
And then her eyes are on me. I blurt the first thing that comes to mind: “A KPI, please.” I stop breathing for a second, and then exhale purposefully.
“Anything else?”
No one at the table speaks, there’s just head shaking all around and then she’s off.
With a collective exhale, the table erupts into laughter. Palms are hitting the table, hands are clapping shoulders. Everyone is talking at once, I can’t make out any of it through the maelstrom.
“She didn’t even flinch,” I say over the noise. “I can’t believe that.”
“We’ll see what happens.” Matthew says, laughing. The chaos happening at our table makes the rest of the bar seem to disappear. I can’t stop laughing, my heart racing.
“So let’s get Liam’s input on the fridge?” Amir says, which is followed by a groan around the table.
“What?” I say.
“The wifi fridge? What’s your take?” Amir is beaming and he’s speaking so fast his words are rolling together. “Great idea or over-engineered?” There’s both laughter and groaning from the others.