Some brown-haired guy is standing behind Tasha. He sort of hovers until I glance at him. He looks to be about my age or a little younger. He’s wearing the hopeful expression of a fan who’s spotted his favorite star and wants something.
Well, so much for my assumption about nice, friendly small-town people who’ll let me be.
I’m going to pretend I don’t know what he’s doing. I’m in no mood to deal with a f
an, no matter how much he hovers.
Becca returns from the bathroom. She glances at the guy, then sits down. Maybe he’s not from Drover. Maybe he’s from some other town with a lot fewer cool people.
Now Tasha must’ve sensed something, because she turns around in her seat. “What the hell are you doing?” She sounds like a cat that just spotted a snake. And not just any snake, but a snake with a history.
Is this Tasha’s ex-boyfriend or something? Becca didn’t recognize him.
If he wants to get back with her, he should’ve picked a better time. You don’t interrupt a dinner to make your case.
And really, he could’ve dressed better. A faded black T-shirt and ripped jeans don’t make for the best impression. He could use a haircut, too. He doesn’t have the face to pull off longish hair. Instead of making him look like a rebel, it makes him look like a guy who can’t afford a decent barber.
“I’m just here to say hi,” the man says, then smiles at me, extending a hand across the table. “Devlin Marsh? Hey, I’m Hank Smith. Huge fan of Axelrod. And you in particular.”
Becca stiffens next to me, her cheeks turning a blotchy pink.
Maybe the history is between Becca and this Hank guy. My gaze darts from Becca to Hank, then at Tasha, who helpfully announces, “A fucking cheating ex-boyfriend,” and makes a cutting motion across her neck with her red-tipped index finger.
Then I realize something weird. Becca acted like she didn’t know who he was when she first saw him. If it weren’t for Tasha recognizing him, I might’ve thought the guy changed so much since they broke up that Becca couldn’t figure out who he was.
Anyway, I’m not shaking his hand now. “Do you mind? I’m trying to have dinner with my wife and her friend,” I say with a thin smile.
“Oh.” He licks his lips.
“And it looks like you have some history with at least one of these ladies.”
He gives me an “it’s all cool” shrug and smirks. “Ancient history. Becca and I dated for a little while. In high school. Way back.”
Ah. So he’s Becca’s fucking cheating ex-boyfriend. Got it. I put my arm around her shoulders. “So why are you here? It doesn’t look like you two are particularly close anymore.” I glance at her. “As a matter of fact, I’d say you’re making her unhappy.”
“I don’t know what her deal is. Our stuff happened a long time ago.” He then turns to Becca with an annoyed expression, like she’s the one ruining his chance at getting chummy with one of his favorite rock stars. “It isn’t cool to hang on to resentment.”
Becca gives him a bored look. “There’s no resentment. Just disgust.”
Hank opens his mouth, but I cut him off.
“Yeah, I’d be disgusted to see one of my exes, too, if we broke up because they cheated on me.” If Ashley were here, I might throw the salsa on the table in her face, just so we’d be clear on how I felt. But Hank is Becca’s ex-boyfriend, so I’ll let her decide if she should throw anything.
But just in case, I push the salsa bowl in her direction.
Tasha raises both eyebrows and gives me a look of approval.
She doesn’t have to be so shocked. I take my commitments seriously, which is why I don’t generally do commitments. Unless I’m certain I can keep them, I don’t want to bother.
Hank rolls his eyes. “It was one time. People make mistakes.”
He’s seriously pissing me off. That’s the same bullshit Ashley said when she got caught.
“Not that kind of mistake,” I say. “If you’re old enough to be in high school, you’re old enough to know cheating on your girlfriend is bad.”
“I’m not here for Becca. I came over to say hello to you.” His voice is growing louder, like somehow the volume is directly correlated to how right he is.
It’s the same tactic Dad uses, and I’m immune. “Well, I am here for Becca. And I’m not saying hello back.” I turn to her. “Becca pie, do you want to do anything before he goes?” I push the salsa bowl a little closer, then whisper, “Go ahead, throw it at him. It’ll be soooo much fun.”