Under the Table(28)
Zoey liked Blake well enough, even if he was, at times, too serious. The girls often teased him about his RBF—Resting Brood Face. He was an odd addition to Ruth’s circle of zaniness. Zoey had never seen him out of a suit and tie, no matter the weather, and tonight was no exception. He was the observe-and-analyze type, with iron self-control. The same could not be said for his friends. They were older and boisterous, openly evaluating the women in the bar, blatantly looking them up and down, going so far as to point out their attributes and flaws. Unsurprisingly, all their ring fingers were bare. Zoey wondered if they had slipped off the wedding rings to get a little side action. Ruth wasn’t particular about who joined the party. Once again, Zoey’s sister was holding court.
“Nice to see you, Zoey,” Blake said when the music died down. She got up from where she was sitting to join him. “It’s been a while since you’ve come out on a Saturday night.”
“About as long as it’s been since you’ve seen a dance floor?” she teased. She didn’t want to tell the tale of Tristan. The way Tristan was acting, dancing, smiling, and carrying on, no one would believe he was a shy computer nerd.
“A crowded dance floor is no place for a guy with two left feet,” he replied with his own brand of humor. “Not with everyone having a cell phone set to record.”
His excuse was a valid one. Zoey had seen Blake dance before, in the early days when he was eager to fit in, and he was not in Tristan’s league.
At precisely one forty-five, Tristan began to make his good nights and good-byes. Through the chorus of urging him to stay, he merely smiled and politely declined. He told Ruth and her friends to enjoy the rest of the night—the tab was already taken care of. He turned to Zoey and asked, “Are you ready to go?”
He could’ve ended the question with anything. Get a tattoo, have something to eat, jump off the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge, her answer would be the same. She would go with him anywhere. With a nod of her head and a wave to the table, she picked up her handbag, and together they made for the exit.
The cold air when they took their first step out the front door was welcome and invigorating. Wall-to-wall people working up a sweat made for the kind of stifling heat that the air-conditioning couldn’t keep up with. Zoey noticed there was still a line of people waiting to get inside. She leaned her head back and took a deep inhale.
“The car is supposed to be here at two,” Tristan said with a glance at the row of cars in front of the building. “We may be a few minutes early.”
“Enjoy the rest of your weekend, kids.”
Zoey turned around to the voice behind her and saw Blake approaching them. She was surprised. He had followed them out.
“You’re leaving already?” Zoey asked. “The night is still young in there.”
“I’ve been on and off a party bus since three o’clock this afternoon. It may be selfish, but I wanted to make my getaway before the puking started. Scraping the groom off the floor is the best man’s job. I’m not even in the wedding party.”
“Can we give you a lift?” Tristan offered. “I have a car coming.”
“No thanks,” Blake said. “I’m not going that far.”
They watched Blake’s back as he walked off into the shadows.
“You looked like you had fun tonight,” she said to Tristan, still refraining from looking at him straight on or for too long.
“I did!” was his cheerful response. Then he turned deadly serious. “Now I have to ask you. Abbie told me to look her up on Tinder after I got rid of you. She said something about ‘totally swiping me right.’ Do you have any idea what she’s talking about?”
Zoey had no desire to hold a grudge against Abbie. By all rights, Tristan was fair game. She had less of a desire to explain the ins and outs of Tinder to him. And while she had no problem being magnanimous, she wasn’t batshit crazy.
“It means she’s a free Veronica.”
“Oh.” His eyebrows arched in alarm. “I don’t want any part of that.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Your sister is completely different from you.”
A bubble of laughter escaped. “She certainly is her own woman. Derek calls her Ruthless.”
With one sentence, Zoey had managed to ruin the night herself. Without thinking, she had brought up her husband. She was able to refrain from literally slamming her palm into her forehead, but mentally she gave herself quite a whack.
Tristan looked back at the bar and made a face. His concern returned. “Those guys were moving in pretty close to your sister. Do you think we did the right thing leaving her?”
“I have always been worried about Ruth and her shenanigans. But she always lands on her feet. You should be way more concerned that she’s going to use your generosity to buy drinks for the entire bar.”
“They don’t have my credit card. If she can manage to spend all the cash I gave them, more power to her. But some of those guys she was dancing with looked creepy. The way one of them was staring at her backside made me want to punch him square in the nose.”
Zoey laughed again, a little relieved. Tristan had been too preoccupied with chivalrous distraction to pick up on her slip of bringing up Derek. “You would’ve only robbed her of the pleasure of clobbering him herself. That is one woman who has no problem making it known she can take on all opponents. She once stabbed a guy with her car key. He needed seven stitches and still asked her out again.”