“We what?” Joy squawks.
“Which means they’re under my protection,” I continue. “Just want to put that on the table so we all know where we stand.” In other words, Look at Joy in the wrong way, and I’m carving out your eyeballs with my spoon. “Pete doesn’t mind, do you, friend?”
Pete’s face takes on a sour expression because at this point, what’s he going to say? That I’m the rude one for wanting to protect two women.
“Of course not, friend,” he replies snidely.
Joy’s eyes move furtively from Pete to me and back again. That won’t do. Her gaze should be on me at all times.
“You look cute tonight, baby.”
“Baby?” Pete’s voice comes out high-pitched.
I pick up a menu to hide a smirk. “Just came up with it since Joy wants a nickname.”
“Baby isn’t a nickname. It’s an endearment,” Joy says.
“Is that so?”
Pete makes an irritated noise and pulls out his phone. “Let’s take a couple photo,” he suggests. He places his arm around the back of Joy’s chair and stretches out his hand, his phone gripped between his fingers. For some reason, I don’t like this. Pete should not have pictures of Joy ever. I reach over and knock it out of his hand, easily catching it.
Standing up, I say, “I’ll take it for you.” Without waiting for either of them to agree, I snap a few photos and then drop the phone back into Pete’s hands. “There you go. Let’s order.”
“Your finger is in the way,” Pete says. He displays the screen for everyone to see. Instead of Pete and Joy, there’s just a picture of Joy looking surprised and then a dark smudge.
“Looks good to me. What’re you having for dinner, Double C?”
She presses her lips together to hide a smile. Apparently, ruining a photo is not a scene.
“I’m going to have a steak.”
Joy’s eyes light up. She wants a steak as well. I hail a waitress, and when she arrives, I say, “Three steaks. How will you have it, baby?”
“How did you know I wanted a steak?”
“When Double C mentioned it, you closed your menu.”
Joy looks surprised. “You noticed that?”
“He can barely keep his eyes off you,” Cece mutters, but apparently I’m the only one that hears her since Pete is busy trying to take another photo. I should have broken his phone.
“Does ruining someone’s property constitute a scene?”
“Yes.” Cece nods emphatically.
“How about accidentally spilling my steak on his lap?”
“Also a scene.” But she smiles when she says it, so maybe it’s not a scene she thinks would be bad.
“Did Dane say something funny, Cece? Maybe you should share with the rest of the class,” Joy says from across the table.
Cece’s smile grows wider. “Nah. Dane’s just a cutie, aren’t you?” She reaches over and pinches my cheek.
“I guess so?” This sounds like roommate approval, so I go with it.
“Anything else for the table?” asks the waitress. I wave her off.
“We’re good.”
When she leaves, Joy draws my attention. “What do you do for a living, Dane?”
“Skip tracer.”
“Um, I’d like to order,” Peter says.
“What’s a skip tracer?”
“It’s a bounty hunter,” Cece offers.
“That’s kind of cool. Like Dog?”
“No. I don’t have a dog.”
“She means Dog the Bounty Hunter,” Peter interjects. “Did the waitress take off without getting my order?”
“I told her you would have a steak, too,” Joy says.
Peter turns pale. “Didn’t you read my bio? I don’t eat red meat.” He jumps to his feet and runs after the waitress.
“It said he was a pescatarian on his page,” Cece informs her roommate.
Joy grimaces. “I didn’t read that.”
“I know and so does he.” Cece snickers.
I lean back with a smile. I haven’t caused a scene, and Pete now knows that Joy doesn’t know much about him. This isn’t going too badly.
“I’m not good at this dating thing,” laments Joy.
“Then don’t do it.”
“She can’t just sit it out. If a girl wants to get married, she has to put herself out there,” CeCe argues.
“You want to get married?”
Joy turns slightly pink and looks down at her water glass. “I mean, someday. Not today or tomorrow.”
“Six weeks,” Cece interjects. “That’s how long it would take to plan a decent wedding.”
Joy laughs a little. “Not even in six weeks but someday. Why? Are you against marriage?”
She says it like a challenge. My knee-jerk response is to answer in the affirmative because I haven’t thought about marriage. When Mick married Bells, I told him he was nuts. Bells still gives me shit over that, but I grew up poor and have spent the last decade digging my family out of debt after my dad’s umpteenth failed startup venture drove him into a grave and my mom to the hospital for stress. I paid off her house, built up a nest egg, and then bought mine. I haven’t had time to think about having a family, but now...looking at Joy, there’s a new vision and it is kids in the backyard, Joy bent over the kitchen sink. My mind screeches to a halt at that view. If Joy was my wife, I could have her at any time. If she was in the kitchen, I’d pull down her pants, push her over the counter and hammer her from behind. I could fuck her in the garage because we’d be too horny to make it inside the house. I could take her on the stairs, in the shower, and, for love and country, on the bed missionary style. I lean back, fold my arms behind my head, and nod. “Nope. Marriage sounds peachy. My brother got married a few years ago and he loves it. He’s been telling me I need to get on his level.”