Bad Cruz

I rubbed my chin. “If Tennessee’s okay with it. Either way, we’ll wait until after your wedding. I don’t want your bride to die of a heart attack.”

“I appreciate it. Finding a third one would be a hassle.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You still have most of your hair and a respectable chunk of inheritance. You’ll be all right. Just don’t tell anyone before Tennessee and I are ready to.”

“You got it, bro.”

There was silence for a few moments. I wondered if the other guys had heard us. I wasn’t sure if I wanted them to know or not.

“You kissed someone else,” I pointed out to Wyatt.

He sighed. “Baby bro, not all relationships are the same. Trinity and I have a very good idea of what we want from each other. I doubt she expects faithfulness from me. She just wants to marry into money and stop working.”

“Good,” I said. “Because she is a pretty crappy nurse.”

“Nessy is a good waitress. Kyle says Jerry told him she gets the best tips.”

“She’s talented.”

“I hope she makes you happy.”

“Wyatt?”

“Whaddup?”

“Tell Trinity what happened tonight. Because if you don’t, I will.”

The next day was a Saturday, and my day off. A real blessing, considering I couldn’t show up at the clinic looking like someone punched the daylights out of me.

A blackish-purple bruise formed around my right eye over the course of the night, and by morning, I looked like I’d been mugged.

I screwed on a baseball cap, put on my Aviators, and made my way to Jerry & Sons, where Tennessee was floating between booths, popping her pink gum loudly and joking with the customers.

I slid into an empty seat and waited for her to notice me, admiring the way she worked her audience like a starlet from the fifties. She had too much charm, which made her burst in colors and personality.

She was insufferable in the eyes of those who couldn’t be her or be with her.

My chest filled with sharp pride when I noticed she wore a black pair of tights under her uniform, so no one could see under her dress anymore.

I ripped my sunglasses off and slipped one stem into the collar of my polo shirt. Looking like I got punched square in the face trumped looking like a creeper. Wearing glasses indoors was only passable if you were:

1) Brad Pitt, or

2) Blind.

I was, at least to my knowledge, neither.

A few moments passed before Tennessee swept her head sideways, her laughter rolling from her throat at something Jerry said, before noticing me. Her smile dropped and she put down a tray full of soda and burgers on the counter, rushing to me.

The color drained from her face, and that’s how I realized not only was she wearing leggings, but she also wasn’t wearing enough foundation to moonlight as a circus clown.

She was evolving, becoming the most authentic version of herself I’d ever seen, and I wanted to grow right along with her.

“Holy sheep, Cruz!” She slid into my booth, grabbing both my cheeks in her hands and studying my face. It looked much worse than it felt. “What happened to your face?”

“I fell.”

“What’d you fall on?”