Part 17 (1/2)
The girl blinked, uncertain. ”Sauteed what?”
”Never mind. We'll start with a bottle of your best champagne. And one of them gets the bill.” I gestured between Monica and Vanessa. ”I don't care which one. Whichever annoys you more.”
”But they haven't...”
”They will,” I a.s.sured her. ”Don't worry; I'll make up for it in your tip.”
The demons just sat there demurely, looking as harmless as Easter eggs. Brother, I thought.
We made it all the way to dessert before the trouble started. I suppose that was some kind of record, considering the personnel. But tras.h.i.+ng the restaurant, on Christmas Eve day...
Well, it didn't look good.
Monica started it. Debra had flounced out to see how I was doing, not that she cared, and we'd both been excruciatingly polite. She'd even pretended not to notice that Vanessa had the same dress on. (In perfect truth, it looked better on Vanessa.) She was just leaving when Monica decided to have some fun.
”You knew Devlin in high school, did you?” she asked Debra, all deceptive innocence.
The woman smiled too brightly. ”Not well, but yes, I did.”
”Not well? Does that mean you didn't sleep with her?”
Ca.s.sie almost snorted coffee. I looked around for a trap door in the floor.
”Of course not,” Debra said, offended. ”I had boyfriends.”
”So did your boyfriends,” Vanessa piped up.
Monica scowled at her. ”Keep out of this. I'm working here.”
”Oh, working, h.e.l.l; you're just trying to guilt Devlin out. Again.” Ca.s.sie's demon tossed her head. ”So she wanted to sleep with that little b.i.t.c.hkitty in high school. So what? She's got better taste now.”
Everyone looked at me -- everyone at my table and at every other table within earshot. The people at the next table actually moved their chairs closer. I tried to look outraged, but it was too hard to be outraged and guilty at the same time.
”You didn't,” Ca.s.sie informed me. ”You told me...”
”Of course I didn't!”
”I'll say,” Debra barked. ”Just so you know, Devlin Kerry, I'd sooner sleep with a goat.”
A goat? I shoved my chair back. Now I was outraged.
”What kind of goat?” Vanessa asked, interested.
Debra and I were both standing now, glaring at each other. We ignored the question.
”Don't flatter yourself,” I told Debra. ”I'd sleep with a cow first.”
”No cow is that hard up,” she shot back.
The room found that cute. Ca.s.sie did not. She jumped to her feet and to my side, menacing the woman with her worst dare-you expression.
But Vanessa just looked petulant. ”What kind of cow? I need details.”
”I think you should leave,” Debra said icily. ”And take your...friends with you. How much did they rent for, anyway?”
Ca.s.sie slapped her face so hard, one of her earrings flew off. Attagirl. I didn't get a chance to congratulate her, though; Debra was trying to slap her back, and I was having a devil of a time keeping between them.
”You get your hands off,” Debra snarled at me. ”If you think you're going to cop a feel this way...”
Was she crazy? Even if I'd wanted to, even if Ca.s.sie wouldn't have killed me for it, I wouldn't have done it in front of an audience. The whole restaurant was paying rapt attention now; even the staff had stopped work to goggle at the spectacle. A couple of the cooks were standing in the kitchen doorway, wiping their hands. I recognized one of them, and vice versa; he waved at me. Great. Our mothers were in a few clubs together, which meant this would be the talk of the town for months.
Then everything went completely to h.e.l.l. Before I could stop her, Debra dodged around me, grabbed Monica's dessert, and smashed it into Ca.s.sie's face.
That would really irritate Ca.s.sie; she didn't like meringue. Without really thinking about the consequences, I straight-armed Debra into the table behind her. It collapsed with a crash as I turned to help Ca.s.sie.
The next thing I knew, the very air was alive with flying things -- food, tableware, even wine bottles, whizzing in all directions. It wasn't even us; the other patrons had snapped. Ca.s.sie and I watched, appalled, as they brawled like beasts. What was it with us that this sort of thing kept happening when we were around?
Check that -- I knew exactly what it was with us. We had demons. The demons in question were still sitting at our table, looking bored now. Good. I'd meant it about giving them the check.
”Let's get out of here,” I told Ca.s.sie.
”Right behind you, sweetie.”
At the door, she told me to hold up while she dug in her purse for her sungla.s.ses. Reluctantly, I put mine on too.
”They already know who we are,” I reminded her.
”That's not the point. The point is looking dignified.” Frowning slightly, she pulled her sungla.s.ses down to study me. ”You have mashed potatoes in your hair.”
With all the dignity possible under the circ.u.mstances, I opened the door and let her out.
Back at the hotel an hour later, showered and wrapped up in robes, we were lounging on one of the beds, watching an It's a Wonderful Life marathon on cable. It was the first peaceful moment we'd had all day.
So of course the phone rang.
Ca.s.sie muttered something about red-hot axes but snuggled closer. I reached over to answer. ”h.e.l.lo?”
”Hi, Dev. It's Jen. What's up?”
She didn't really want to know. ”Nothing. We're watching It's a Wonderful Life. What's up with you?”