At one time, I'd known what that was like.
Greg got up and walked toward the bathroom, leaving me alone at the table. A couple of moments later, Casey came back with our drinks.
“Did I scare your friend away?” she asked.
“No, he's just in the bathroom,” I said. “He'll be back.”
“Lucky me,” she grumbled. Then her smile returned, almost like she'd forced it to. “Is there anything else I can help you with? And please, no pickup lines, I've had more than my fair share tonight and none of them are all that original.”
“Don't worry,” I said. “I'm not interested in picking you, or anyone else up. You're safe from me. Promise.”
“Good boy,” she said. “Especially since you have that hot girlfriend back home. Nice to know some men can remain loyal.”
“You – you remember Da
nielle?”
She shrugged. “I remember all my regulars,” she said with a smile. “It usually pays off. In tips, I mean.”
“Of course.”
I started to tell her that Danielle and I were no more, but it seemed unnecessary. Not like she'd care. She was merely being friendly and making conversation to get a good tip out of it. I pulled out my wallet and passed her a fifty-dollar bill.
“Do you want to close out your tab already?” she asked.
“No, that's for you,” I said. “We'll pay the tab later. I just figure you deserve a little something for putting up with assholes like my friend.”
She smiled, “Thanks, Mr. Crane.”
“Malcolm,” I said. “Please, call me Malcolm.”
“I'll remember that, Malcolm.”
“I have no doubt you will.”
We shared a smile between us, and I had to admit, I was enjoying it. Casey wasn't relationship material – not with her cocky attitude and her nose ring. A nose ring that I'd only just noticed for the first time. My parents would have died if I brought a girl like her home for family dinner. They were very traditional and very conservative about a great many things.
Greg came back from the bathroom and slipped into the booth. Casey's eyes went back to him, and her face changed in the briefest of moments. She went from a friendly and open expression with me to one of pure disdain and contempt, and then just like that, it changed back to being pleasant again.
“Did you find it okay?” she asked Greg, her face innocent as ever.
“The bathroom? Yeah, I've been here before –”
“No, I meant your dick. The lighting's dim and it's hard to see tiny things,” she laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she turned and walked away.
I couldn't hold it in any longer and burst into laughter. “She got you, man.”
“Yeah, well that's not the last word. We have all night, brother,” he said, punching me in the arm. “Before the night is over, she'll know exactly where my cock is, because it'll be inside her tight little – ”
I stopped him right there. “Please, I don't need to imagine you balls deep in our waitress.”
The image tugged at something inside of me, but I didn't know what it could have been. The way he talked about Casey, the way he objectified her and boiled her down to somebody worthy of no more than being his personal fucktoy, bugged me more than usual.
Probably because her taunting brought out the worst in Greg. It was like, the more she screwed with him, the more he wanted her and the more foul-mouthed he got about it.
“Why? You jealous?” he asked, smirking.
“No, why would I be jealous?” I asked. “She's a fucking cocktail waitress.”