Park Avenue Prince(13)

And yet, I’d wanted her to understand.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate milkshake.” I ordered first out of self-defense. If I didn’t, Angie would never make up her mind.

“I’ll have the same, but can I get a side of onion rings and the mac and cheese?” The waitress scribbled down the order. “Oh, and can I get extra tomato?”

“Am I going to have to roll you home?” I asked. “Your husband hates this place, so I know you aren’t ordering for him.”

“I’m hungry.” She shrugged. “Stop avoiding my question and tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I bought some paintings,” I said, trying to deflect her attention.

“Just the stuff your consultant told you to buy?”

“I guess.” I slid the menus to the side and traced my fingernail around the metal surround of the table. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d lied to Angie. I was always completely honest with her. But we never discussed women in any detail because they were rarely on my mind. Unlike Grace.

“And are you going to buy some furniture? I know you’re sentimental about the couch but maybe put it in the office or something.” Angie’s nails tapped on the countertop.

“I’m not sentimental about the couch; what are you talking about?” I wasn’t sentimental about things at all. That’s why I didn’t have much.

“Then why on earth do you still have it? It’s falling apart.”

“It’s perfectly okay,” I replied. “If you make sure the cushions are the right way up, you can’t see the holes. There’s no reason not to hang on to it.”

“Whatever.”

Our food arrived and Angie pounced on the mac and cheese as if she hadn’t eaten for weeks. She always had a healthy appetite but even for her she seemed a little overenthusiastic.

“Buying furniture is like burning money. The couch I have is fine.” I didn’t need to live any differently just because my address had changed. Although it would have been nice to have been able to offer Grace a drink. Maybe I’d order some wine glasses. I didn’t even have silverware at the moment. I’d taken a couple of the office mugs and brought them home with me, but I was a simple man. I didn’t need much.

“You don’t want a house warming?” Angie asked. “Seems a shame to have such a fancy place and no one to show it off to.”

“A house warming?” I chuckled. “Who would I invite? I only know you and Chas.” Angie and her husband were my only friends. I didn’t have drinking buddies. I’d not gone to college. And aside from Angie, there was certainly no one from my past I wanted to stay in touch with.

“A business party, then?” she asked.

I took a bite of my burger, chewing slowly to give myself time to think. I didn’t want the people I did business with in my home. It shouldn’t matter, it was just an investment after all, but I didn’t want a bunch of strangers standing around the place judging me. “No. I’m not a party person.”

“What about a TV then? Surely that’s not too extravagant?”

While it would never be an investment, it didn’t seem too much to own a television. “Will you get off my back if I buy a TV?”

I might even get a new couch. That would show Angie that I wasn’t even a little sentimental about a piece of furniture. Not a couch, not anything.

“Jesus, Sam, I just want you to enjoy life a little. Don’t you see? You made it; you don’t need to hang on so tight. At least go and get laid.”

I wiped mustard from my mouth with my napkin. “You think I’m sexually frustrated?” I tossed the paper onto the counter. Angie knew I didn’t go without.

“I’m just saying that you should have some fun. Spend some money, get a girl.”

“With a face like this, you think I need money to get a girl?” I chuckled and Angie started to laugh.

“You’re a prick.”

“But a handsome prick, right?”

“With your money, you never need to worry about looks.”

I picked up my napkin and threw it at her. She grinned. “So you got your eye on your latest victim?” she asked.

“I’m not a serial killer, for Christ’s sake.”

“You’re a serial heartbreaker, that’s what you are.” She took a huge bite of her burger, as if afraid it might disappear if she didn’t disable it immediately. I guess it was a habit formed in group homes when you had to eat quick or risk having your food stolen by the kid next to you. Angie had moved on from her past—meeting Chas had helped. But the scars were never too far below the surface.

“The girls I have fun with understand it’s just that—fun. None of them stick around long enough to get their heart broken.”

“That’s because you don’t call them.” Angie was riding my ass a little more than usual. I wasn’t in the mood.

I shrugged. I would never marry. What was the point in stringing a girl along just to dump her a couple of months down the line when she got serious?

Angie’s eyes dropped and I could tell a sympathy smile wasn’t too far away.

“Don’t even,” I said. Whatever she was thinking, I didn’t want to hear it. “Let’s go a buy a TV, get you off my back.”