Plus, it wasn’t as though we had left things in a very good place. I had unloaded a serious verbal beating on him when all he had been trying to do was help me during a difficult time. I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t call me. Even if I was a little bit disappointed.
I figured he was leaving the ball firmly in my court. Though if he was waiting for me to make a move and admit he was what I wanted, he’d be waiting a long time.
Crazy cat lady spinsterhood, here I come.
“Someone’s hoping to make employee of the month,” an overly perky voice said from behind me. I continued to wipe down my meticulously clean tables, ignoring the sudden invasion of slut in my section of the restaurant.
Jaz pulled out a chair and plopped her big ass right on down as though I had invited her. Which I sure as hell didn’t. She propped her feet up on the table and she watched me with a fake sympathetic smile on her lips that had I was dangerously close to knocking off.
I had low bullshit tolerance on a good day. So Jaz my-tits-are-too-small-so-I-overcompensate-by-being-a-complete-whore was in a perfect position to piss me off. It didn’t take much for her to irritate me and tonight was no exception.
Generation Rejects had been playing for the last hour and I was staunchly avoiding the guitarist who had tried to get my attention for most of the night. It was hard, particularly when said guitarist was looking entirely too yummy for his own good and the image of the two of us naked, together, was burned on my brain like an itchy sunburn.
I lifted Jaz’s feet off the table and dropped them on the floor. “Go bug someone else, Jaz. Cause I’m not playing,” I grumbled, giving my table one last swipe with the cloth and turned to go clock out.
“Wow, who pissed in your cornflakes? I was just making the observation that you seemed to be really into your work lately. I think it’s great you have your work to get you through such a difficult time. We all know you don’t handle your emotions well. I mean look what happened after Damien dumped you,” she said, dropping her voice in a feigned show of concern.
That was it, I was so done. I turned around, ready to unleash my inner Ghangis Khan on her face when we were interrupted by an unwelcome source.
“Back off, Jaz,” Damien said, getting between us. Jaz’s bitch knob, which had been firmly on eleven, dialed back a notch. She turned faintly pink as she gave Damien a bright smile.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Damien. I’m not doing anything to Riley. Don’t make me the bad guy here just because you’ve decided you want back into her granny panties,” Jaz sneered. I grit my teeth together so hard I could have sworn I cracked a tooth or two.
“Seriously, just go,” Damien’s voice was clipped and hard and I was totally shocked. Damien didn’t play the confrontational card very often. Jaz looked hurt by his defense of me and walked off in a huff.
He turned back and gave me a wane smile, his black hair falling into his face.
“Thanks for running interference, D. That would have only ended in a gore fest,” I said and Damien’s smile grew at my unintentional use of the nickname I had given him a lifetime ago.
“Moore would have been pretty pissed if you had bloodied up his brand new carpet. So it’s a good thing I was here,” Damien teased and I found myself smiling back.
Damien reached out to squeeze my arm and before I could pull away there was a commotion from the stage where Generation Rejects had suddenly stopped playing.
“Take your hand off her before I fucking make you,” an angry voice grumbled over the sound system. I looked up in shock to see that Garrett had taken the microphone from Cole and was glaring in my direction.
Well not at me but at Damien who stood there with his mouth hanging open like an idiot.
“Is he talking to me?” Damien asked, his eyes wide with what I could only decipher as burgeoning panic. Garrett had dropped the mic on the stage, pulled his guitar from around his neck, handing it to a flabbergasted Mitch and stormed through a crowd that parted like the Red Sea.