“What’s with the camera?” I tossed over to Angela.
“You don’t hear them talking on the courts?”
I shook my head.
“It’s for a documentary they’re doing on Alton,” she explained.
Great. Another reason I don’t need to be here!
We continued toward the restaurant behind the guys. I couldn’t help but steal a glance at Stenton, who was on the phone; his tats were so loud. He wore a gray tank with blue stripes stretched across, cargo shorts, and Jordans. I noticed he put on a netted baseball cap hat he turned to the back, and brown gradient Ray Bans with lenses looking extremely conspicuous.
Alton addressed us, “Oh, y’all made it to eat, huhn?” he jeered, holding his crotch. He did that a lot. “That’s one thing you could offer college kids: give their asses food and they will dance!” He and one of the beefy guys laughed loudly.
We paced behind them into the restaurant and already, I was ready to bail. I didn’t want to lose my cool with the Alton guy. I hated the king of wisecracks type. They hurt feelings. They led us straight to the back to a large circular booth and as we ambled back there, one of the guys yelled over to the waitress by name. I saw how she immediately made her way to the back, picking up menus along the way.
As we sat, I heard Rihanna’s track, “Music of the Sun” streaming from the speakers. It was growing on me; a reggae feel. We were seated all of twenty seconds before the waitress arrived with menus. Alton referred to her by name and she blushed a shade of rose as she responded to his familiarity. They obviously came here often. I quickly settled on what I could afford and would enjoy: burger and fries. Angela ordered a steak with potatoes. Did she think we were at a formal restaurant? I knew she was trying to come off as high maintenance. I didn’t have the time for that. I wanted to get back to campus for my nap before class.
“Drew, man,” Alton called over to the guy with the camera. “You can stop recording. I don’t need me grubbing on film.”
The guy nodded and clicked off his small hand-held camera. I was relieved; we hadn’t signed anything consenting to be filmed.
“So what do you ladies do when you’re not catching balls?” Alton jeered.
The table went up in laughter. Even Stenton broke from his telephone conversation to express his amusement. I was annoyed already. Even more irritating was Angela’s contrived cackle for the joke.
“Well, you know…” Angela purred as she twisted her curls with her index finger. “I’m a Rutgers student, majoring in hospitality management.”
I rolled my eyes, wishing I wasn’t sitting next to her in that moment. In the circular booth, Stenton Rogers and I had the end seats with the others in between. I was sure Angela strategically sat to the right of me, believing it was closer to Stenton. Everyone with the exception of Angela and me were on their phones.
“Hospitality, huhn?” Alton supplied. “Just how hospitable are you? What kind of hospitality do you serve up?”
“The type that Stent likes,” she purred.
Ughhh!
“Oh, shit!”
“Damn!”
“All right, now!”
Everyone seemed to have a reaction except for Stenton. He did look up from his conversation, I guess caught off guard. I had no idea why; I’m sure he got this all the time.
Angela continued with her hair twirl, her eyes set on Stenton. It took him a few seconds, but he went back to his conversation, leaving her hanging. Angela needed to hook this man and soon, because I didn’t do chicken head, or bird, or thirst.
“And what type of hospitality do you serve up?” I heard Alton ask, directing his question to me.
I swear, I didn’t want to look up. I didn’t. Because looking up would have meant that the time clock on me having to use my sarcastic wit to tear into him would start, and I didn’t want to ruin this for Angela.