Page 69 of Brutal
“Yeah.”
My mood has plummeted, and I move away from her. I need a drink.
I need something stronger than a drink, really, but I don’t have anything with me. I hadn’t planned on spending the night out.
I stalk off toward where the dinner has been set out on the deck, but I’m not hungry. I’d only ordered one bottle of champagne, trying to be fucking courteous to Mimosa, but I know there’s got to be more booze on board that I can add to my tab.
She follows me to the table and sits down. I can barely stand to look at her right now.
“I hurt your feelings,” she says flatly. “Did you want me to lie?”
“No,” I snap.
I’d wanted her to be appreciative.
Supportive, even.
I signal to the lone waiter on deck. “Rum and coke. Make it a double,” I say brusquely.
“Please,” Mimosa says to the waiter’s retreating back.
“He doesn’t need a please. He’s doing his job.” I sit down at the table, glaring at her.
Mimosa’s eyebrows—also blue—go up. “So it’s okay to be rude to him?” She smiles at me. “This is what I meant.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” I demand. “What you meant by what?”
“How you treat others dictates what they think of you.” She picks up her fork and stabs her salad with it. “It isn’t a one-and-done, Drake. You have to know that. You have a lot of issues, but you aren’t completely emotionless.”
“Obviously,” I say.
If I was emotionless, I wouldn’t care so much that she’s being so stingy with her gratitude.
That’s probably what she means, I realize.
I sigh, giving a pointed, “Thank you,” to the waiter when he returns with my drink. “Did you want something other than water or champagne?” I ask Mimosa. Maybe if I try…
What? What do I really expect is going to happen? That she’ll somehow learn to like me?
“I’m good, thanks,” she answers.
The waiter goes to stand away from our table, ready to be summoned but not so close that he can eavesdrop on our conversation.
Mimosa takes a few bites of her food before she says, “I did enjoy today. It was nice to get out of the condo. And I love my new hair.”
I nod to her, then down half my drink in one go. It’s not going to have any effect on me, but hey, there’s plenty more where that came from. “I’m glad,” I say. That’s true, at least. I did want her to have a good day. “I enjoyed it too.”
“I got to experience a lot of fun new things today,” she continues. “And I got to see a different side of you.”
She’s smiling now, a real, legitimate smile that makes my heart skip a beat.
It makes the urge to drink a little less urgent, somehow, but I keep sipping on it because I’m not sure what to say to that. Finally, I tell her, “You’re the same deadpan smartass you always are.” But the words lack vitriol. It’s just part of who she is, and it’s part of what keeps drawing me to her.
“Yeah. I’ve heard that assessment before.” She keeps eating and sipping at her champagne. “Did you have fun today?”
I finish off my drink and set the glass down, but I don’t signal the waiter for more. I start to eat, buying myself another few seconds to think. “Yeah,” I say, a little surprised to find that the answer is genuine. “We’ll stay out on the yacht in the morning, then we can walk the boardwalk. Maybe go shopping or whatever it is people do out here.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been here for anything but the casino, though, chasing that adrenaline rush that comes from the thrill of the game.