Handsome and Greta (Seven Ways to Sin 3)

“But I don’t eat meat,” said Kurt.

Betty just stared at him blankly. He might have been speaking Chinese, from the look on her face.

“Maybe just a salad,” Kurt suggested.

“A salad?” Betty flashed a sign of recognition and regained her smile. “Nine chicken parmesans and one salad.”

“Eight chicken parmesans,” Kurt corrected.

“Eight chicken parmesans,” Betty repeated.

“Make that seven,” I said.

Betty jerked her head.

“And a salad,” said Kurt.

Slowly, Betty returned her gaze to Kurt. “And a salad.”

“No meat,” said Kurt both as a reminder and a question.

“No meat,” said Betty. She eyed me out of the corners of her eyes as she slowly turned and walked away.

Once she was out of earshot, Kurt leaned over the table. “What was that?”

“That was Betty,” said Hans.

Everyone took turns agreeing with Kurt and telling him that he was right to be offended and that it was scandalous that the restaurant didn’t have a vegetarian option. And by the time Betty returned with our food, we had managed to calm him down and our spirits were lively and jovial again.

Betty seemed to have undergone a change, too. She didn’t glare at me, but smiled like she did with the others. Only Hans and Michael remained to be served, but she had three plates on her tray.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said to me with exaggerated sweetness, “But I ordered you one just in case you get hungry watching your friends eat.” She put a plate of copious chicken parmesan and mashed potatoes down in front of me. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want. It’s on the house.”

“Thank you, Betty,” said Hans. “Don’t worry, we’ll eat it if she doesn’t.”

Betty put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, that’s sweet of you. But look at the poor thing. Doesn’t look like she’s eaten in months.”

“I ate today,” I said, poorly stifling my anger. “And I ate yesterday, too.”

“Yesterday?” She quickly lost her smile. “What did you eat yesterday?”

Again, all heads were turned my way. All eyes were on me.

I let out a long loud breath through my nose. “Food.”

We stared at each other for a long silent moment until Hans broke in, “Thank you, Betty. It’s perfect.”

“Enjoy.” She smiled and walked away.

“She doesn’t look like she likes you,” said Philip. “What did you do to the poor old lady?”

“Me? What did I do?”

I looked around the table. Nobody had my back. Even Hans was distracted by the mound of cheesy chicken in front of him and wouldn’t defend me.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You insulted her, by not eating the food,” said Hans without looking up from his plate.

“I insulted her! How about her insulting me, saying that I look like I haven’t eaten.”

“Honey, that’s a compliment,” said Philip.

“It’s body shaming. And it’s none of her business what I eat.”

Kurt pointed his fork at me. “Amen, Greta. I’m with you a thousand percent.”

“Thank you, Kurt.” I glanced at Hans who was working on a forkful of food. I stood from the table. “Please, enjoy your meal. I’m going to take a shower and call it an early night.”

“No, you can’t go,” they all objected.

Hans swallowed and said, “Don’t let her get to you, she’s just odd. That’s all.”

I shook my head. “Oh, I’m not upset. Really. I’m just tired. You guys have a fun night. Don’t let me slow you down.”

I nearly ran out of there, feeling elated that I had broken free. The truth was that Betty hadn’t upset me, but she did have me curious. Why was she asking what I ate yesterday? Does she know about Jake? How would she? And why would she care?

My curiosity of Betty, however, would have to be satisfied another day. At that moment, I only had one thought on my mind—go back to the “Gingerbread Studio” and satisfy other curiosities.

10

Greta

I’d showered and changed, paced and fretted. The boys were taking forever to finish their dinner. I knew they would try again to talk me into going out with them, so I spent the time practicing my casual ‘I’m going to stay in tonight. No special reason. Nothing to worry about.’ speech.

Sounds like fun. But I’m way too tired. I’ll catch you guys next time.

The ‘I’m too tired’ part troubled me a bit. The complete opposite was true. I was wound up and ready to explode. I wasn’t in the habit of lying to Hans. In fact, I tried to think of it but couldn’t remember the last time I’d lied to him.

Sounds like fun and I’ll catch you guys next time - those aren’t lies. Maybe that will be enough.

No sooner had I convinced myself that I wasn’t actually lying to Hans, but simply sparing him unnecessary details, than he popped in.

“How are you feeling, Greta?”

“Fine.” I could feel my face heat up.

“Good. I’m just going to change real quick. We’re meeting in the lobby in fifteen minutes.” He looked me up and down. “You look ready to go.”