“And you?” she asked, turning to Beckett, a note of desperation in her voice, though she was still speaking quietly.
“Seventeen,” Beckett said, frowning. “Why?”
“And neither of you are members of the press? Or law enforcement?”
“No,” we both said together, exchanging a look. What was happening here?
“Just a moment,” she said, and hustled away.
“This is getting weird,” Beckett said. He took another sip of his drink, then coughed again. “Well, that didn’t get any better. But on the bright side, I think I’m drunk now.”
“So wait,” I said, trying to focus. “What were you saying about the play?”
Beckett started to answer, just as the manager came back again, now flanked by two other servers. Bringing up the rear, and looking mortified, was Todd.
“I’m so sorry,” she said as one of the people who’d come with her whisked the martini glass away and replaced it with what actually looked like the drink Beckett had ordered. “One of our… waitstaff,” she said, turning for a moment to glare at Todd, “mixed up a Roy Rogers and a Rob Roy. And as an apology, and in the hope that you won’t mention this to the press or the police or… the liquor board…” Even in the restaurant’s dim lighting, I could see her grow paler. “We’d like to cover your meal, of course, and we’re going to be sending over some complimentary appetizers. With our apologies.”
I exchanged an incredulous look with Beckett. Just how bad was it to serve alcohol to minors? It was probably a good thing that Kat wasn’t here. She would have milked this for absolutely all it was worth. “We won’t tell anyone,” I assured her, and Beckett shook his head.
This woman looked so relieved that her whole posture seemed to change. “Oh, good,” she said, nodding a few too many times. “That’s—wonderful. Here is my card,” she said, taking a creamy piece of card stock and sliding it across the table. “If you would like to visit us another night, please just call and I’ll make it happen. And my apologies again. Todd?” she snapped, raising her voice just slightly, and he stepped forward. “Do you have anything to say?”
“Um, sorry,” Todd said, looking sincerely miserable. “But they both have Roy in the name, so…”
“Thanks, Todd,” she said crisply, and he slunk away.
“There is your Roy Rogers,” she said to Beckett, gesturing at the drink in front of him. “I’m sorry, again.” She gave us a smile, then backed away quickly, the other serious people trailing behind her.
We waited until they had left before I stopped fighting my urge to laugh. “Oh my god.”
“Do you think we should have mentioned to her that we still don’t have menus?” Beckett asked, taking a sip of his replacement drink. “Much better. Sorry your plan to spend all your dad’s money was foiled.”
I shook my head in mock annoyance. “Everyone wants to buy us dinner tonight, it seems.”
“Yeah, I have no compunction about charging the restaurant a lot of money,” Beckett said with a grin. “Should we push the boat out?”
I smiled back. “Let’s.” I looked at him for a moment, then took a breath, feeling like it was finally time to talk about the elephant in the room, the one who’d been patiently biding his time in the corner, just waiting for us to finally talk about him. “Why did you come here tonight?” I wasn’t sure what I wanted the answer to be. It felt like we were somehow balanced, precariously, on a turning point.
Beckett looked down at his hands, turning the silverware over again. “Because you’re my friend,” he said, finally looking right at me. “And I didn’t want you to be here alone.”
I smiled at him, even though it hurt. I could see that he hadn’t come because he was trying to get back together, and I saw in his eyes that he no longer had those feelings for me. It was over. If I’d been brave enough back in August, maybe we wouldn’t be here. But we were. And I was lucky enough to have him as a friend.
I slid a little closer, until I was right next to him, closer than I’d been in months. Close enough to see how his teeth were just slightly crooked, the birthmark by his ear. I reached out slowly and touched his cheek, knowing it was the last time I’d be able to do it.
I stretched forward and kissed him—a last kiss.
He kissed me back, but I could tell it was the same kind of kiss for him. This wasn’t a kiss that was leading to anything. It was a goodbye.
I pulled back and smiled at him. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
“Anytime.”
“Okay, here we are with your appetizers.” The people who’d flanked the manager were back, and were setting out more food than made any sense out on the table—oysters on the half shell and truffle mac and cheese and bruschetta and what looked like some kind of slider. Todd wasn’t with them, and I wondered if he’d been exiled away from our table for the night. “We’ll be back with the rest,” the man setting the sliders down murmured, before backing away.
“The rest?” I asked, incredulous.
“We still don’t have menus,” Beckett called after them, but they were already gone. He shook his head, then turned to me. “Stevie? What do you want?”
I looked at the food—which smelled amazing and was reminding me just how long ago it had been that I’d eaten anything. But as I looked at it, I realized that the answer wasn’t anywhere on this table. I hadn’t been brave enough to tell Beckett the truth when I needed to, and I didn’t want to make the same mistake again. “I want to go talk to my dad,” I said slowly, feeling how true it was as I spoke the words.
“Oh,” Beckett said, macaroni serving spoon halfway to his plate. He set it down and looked at me. “I meant, like, food-wise.”
I laughed. “I know. But—I think I need to talk to him. I think I should have talked to him a long time ago.” Beckett nodded, and I knew that whatever I wanted to do—leave him behind with enough food for four, or sit here and hash out the pros and cons—he’d be fine with. And the thought of leaving right then, heading straight to the Upper West Side, was appealing. But so was the smell of the mac and cheese. I’d waited so long to come here, and all we’d done was get beverages and accidentally cause the restaurant to commit a misdemeanor. “Although maybe,” I said, pulling the slider plate toward me, “I’ll just have a little bit of this first.” Beckett smiled and held out the macaroni spoon to me, and I took it happily.
But when I’d eaten this—free, apparently!—meal, there was only one place I wanted to go.
I was going to talk to my dad. And we were finally going to tell the truth.
CHAPTER 22
Kat
It wasn’t until the middle of the second scene that I realized I was in trouble.
Navel Gazing was a play about five college friends who reunite in a Florida beach town after one of their group dies in mysterious circumstances. When an actress came onstage who looked familiar, I flipped through my program, squinting in the darkness to read her bio, trying to figure out what I knew her from.