Rayne & Delilah's Midnite Matinee(71)

“I might do both,” Divine says.

“Sorry?”

“The steak and lobster. I can’t decide, so I might do both.”

“Oh. Anyway, we’re syndicated in Little Rock, Topeka, Des Moines, Greenville, Macon—”

“I’m going to do both. The ol’ surf ’n’ turf. Isn’t it strange how good lobsters and beef taste together when lobsters are just giant insects of the sea?”

“It always weirded me out to see ants eating beef, ants on a hamburger or something. It’s like, You couldn’t have gotten that beef on your own, ants. Have some respect.” I’m nervous-jabbering.

Divine’s face squinches. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I mean…insects and…beef?” I blush. “I thought we were talking about—”

“Very bizarre thing to bring up at dinner. You’ll put me off my food.” Divine snaps his menu shut. “Horror hosting, you say? You’ve come to the right man.”

“So I understand.”

“No one’s achieved more in the genre than me. I’m the pinnacle. The top dog. The big cheese. I did well on my own, but with SkeleTonya…let me tell you, I took horror hosting to the mainstream. No one has achieved what I have before or since. I made her into a cultural icon. A household name. She owes me her career. Her life. How many other horror hosts do you think most Americans can name? That’s right. None. Zip. Now—Oh my.” Divine stares.

“What?” I look up. A stunning, Brazilian-looking woman in a sleek black dress is approaching our table.

Divine pretends to look at his menu, but his eyes follow the woman as she passes. She doesn’t so much as glance in our direction.

“Va va voom,” Divine murmurs. “Yuri, did you see that?”

“Pretty girl,” Yuri says, sucking at a tooth.

Divine nods at Lawson. “What say you, young man? Fine specimen, eh?”

“I didn’t notice,” Lawson says tersely.

Divine slowly lowers the menu. “Now, how am I supposed to concentrate, with Helen of Troy prancing around this steakhouse?”

“Um…try really hard?” I say.

“Yuri, when that young vixen comes back this way, do be a prince and get her number for me, won’t you?”

Yuri shrugs. “Okeydokey.”

I could count on one hand the number of things I would find more unnerving than Yuri asking for my number. “Is that a good idea? I…would maybe be weirded out if I were her.”

“What am I thinking?” Divine says. “Of course you’re right.”

“Yeah, I mean—”

“I’ll get her number myself. She’ll have a much harder time turning me down than Yuri.”

“Um.”

“No! Better yet! You get her number for me. Woman to woman.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I don’t know if I feel comfortable doing that.”

“What’s your plan, then?”

I pretend to give the matter deep consideration. “I would probably leave her alone. But that’s me.”

Divine starts to respond, but the waiter comes, drawing his attention, just as the woman is on her way back from the restroom. I’m grateful on her behalf. “Have we decided, ladies and gentlemen?” the waiter asks. “Yes? I’ll start with the lady, then.”

I’m not sure how this works—if we’re paying for ourselves or if he’s paying for us, and I’m on a tight budget. I order the baby kale salad. Lawson follows my lead.

“Salads? Here?” Divine asks incredulously. “Boy, are you missing out! I’ll start with the crabmeat cocktail and the crab cakes, with the prime porterhouse and the three—no, four-pound Newfoundland lobster. Yuri here will have the same.”

“Anything to drink, sir?” the waiter asks.

“You know, we’re talking some important business, and I’d say nothing helps lubricate the gears of the free market like…a Pappy twelve-year-old. One for me, one for Yuri.”

For a second, I wonder if I misheard and Divine actually ordered a “happy twelve-year old,” who the waiter would hook up to him with blood transfusion lines. This seems like the kind of place that could accommodate a request like that.

The waiter glows. “Yes, sir! Impeccable choice, if I do say so myself!”

“I rather thought so! Now, can I get that with a splash of RC Cola?”

The waiter tries not to look aghast but fails.

Divine winks. “I’m joking, of course.” He and the waiter share a hearty laugh. I guess it was a great joke?

We make (weird, uncomfortable) small talk while we wait for our food to arrive. I excuse myself to go to the restroom. While I’m in there, I text Delia. Love you, DeeDeeBoo. Thinking of you. When I exit, Lawson is standing outside the door.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I am. Dragging you along tonight. For this insanity. I had no idea it’d be like this.”

He shrugs. “I would not want you dealing with this dude alone. Plus, I’m spending time with you. All I care about.”

I hug him. “Right answer.”