Dinner passed quickly in a haze of good conversation, food and seasonal IPAs. She and Dillon ordered pumpkin-flavored beers while Oscar stuck to water and wine. All went well until Dillon asked the one question she didn’t want to answer.
“So what happened with you and Ben?”
“We broke up,” she said, then took the last bite of her gluten-free brownie she’d gotten for dessert. She wasn’t allergic to gluten but for some reason every single dessert on the menu was gluten-free. No explanation except she was definitely back in Portland.
“Can I ask why?”
“You’re being nosy, dear,” Oscar said. “If she wants to talk about it, she’ll talk about it.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
“Do I need to kill him? Just answer that question.” Dillon reached out and grabbed her hand. “I really want to kill someone.”
“No one is killing anyone,” she said, pointing at him and at Oscar. “I already heard you threatened Chris.”
“Why did he threaten to kill Chris?” Oscar asked her. “He’s pretty. I won’t allow it.”
“Ask him.” She nodded at Dillon, looking sheepish.
“I love you, man, but if you start killing handsome guys, we’re going to have words. There aren’t that many of us around,” Oscar said.
“I just threatened him a little.” Dillon held up his fingers only half an inch apart. “I gave him a job to do and then he screwed up the job.”
“He didn’t screw up the job. He screwed the sister,” Joey said to Oscar.
“That is not true.”
“It is true,” she said. “I was there. Screwing happened.”
“No, I mean, I didn’t threaten to kill him because they’re a thing. I don’t care they’re a thing. They can be a thing all they want wherever they want whenever they want in any depraved manner they want. I assume it was depraved? I always got that vibe from Chris.”
“Mildly depraved,” she said.
“Thought so,” Dillon continued. “But...I need her to run Lost Lake and she won’t, and that’s all Chris’s fault.”
“Not his fault,” she said.
“Really? Then whose fault is it?”
“Nobody’s fault,” Joey said, sitting back in her chair. The brownie, which had been the size of her head, was now reduced to the size of her hand. She surrendered. But she’d probably take it home with her.
“I refuse to believe that,” Dillon said. “Everything is always somebody’s fault.”
“Then it’s my fault.” Joey shrugged and sat forward. Maybe she wouldn’t surrender to her giant brownie quite yet. “I can’t quit my job. It would be like letting Ben win.”
“Ah...” Oscar nodded at Dillon. Dillon nodded at Oscar.
“Stop nodding,” she said, attacking her brownie with a second wind. “I can see you two nodding.”
“So it’s Ben’s fault?” Oscar asked.
“You might as well tell us,” Dillon said. “You’re going to tell me eventually, anyway.”
“He’s married and he didn’t tell me.”
Dillon stood up. Calmly.
“Where are you going?” she asked.