Excerpt: Dinner

Throughout dinner, Liz had stared out the huge bay window instead of at her boyfriend. Maybe that was a hint. The restaurant was beautiful. Reith’s coastline all the way up and past Osric House was mesmerizing. However, drowning herself in the surf had more appeal than thinking about the size of tonight’s check. But Bryan had insisted on this place.

Funny how on the nights he was paying, dinner out meant drive-thru and when Liz was paying, it meant candlelight and a menu she had to translate for him. Dammit. She’d given up what would have been a perfect girl’s night with Tayna for this…this…crap.

Looking down at the three raviolis in her swimming-pool-size bowl, Liz wished Bryan would pay this time and be different, surprise her, and…and…be romantic for once and have some mercy on her pocket book.

“So what I was thinking is that you could get me a real mixer and maybe a set of drums or something and I can just lay down my own tracks.” Bryan’s voice strained through a mouthful of lobster.

Liz snapped back to her unfortunate reality. “What?” She resisted the urge to use the mauve linen napkin to clean out her ears.

“I could be like a one man band and do my own demos and stuff.”

She ignored that insane bit about her furnishing the equipment. This wasn’t the place for that can of worms. “Even if you did your own demos, what would you do with them once you recorded them?” Liz set down her fork now that her bowl was empty.

Bryan stuffed more lobster in his mouth, butter dripping from the corner as he spoke. “I dunno. I could start giving them to people to listen to.”

“You mean record companies, managers, agents?” Progress? Wouldn’t that be a joy?

“No, I’m not good enough for that yet. I was thinking like when I play at bars and stuff I can hand them out.”

“You’re completely missing the point.” Liz shook her head. “Just because you think you need to be perfect doesn’t mean you can’t get your stuff out there. I mean, how do you know you aren’t any good?”

Every night, Liz fell asleep to Bryan’s smooth practicing. He was the best guitarist she’d ever met in that his music came from his heart, somewhere deep within his soul. Playing his guitar was his way of sharing his beautiful magic—even when he thrashed through speed metal.

It didn’t matter that the lyrics made no sense. They were beautiful. His playing was beautiful. He was beautiful. But too damn afraid to put down his joint and go beyond jam sessions and his own living room.

Hell, it was her living room now. She’d taken full—not just half—responsibility for the rent for the past two months. The only thing he paid for was more pot and she didn’t want to know where he got the money for it.

The waiter refilled Liz’s lemonade, bringing her back to the present. She scrutinized Bryan as he fiddled with the tail on his plate. Why had she thought that with her support, he’d realize his potential? It was always barely below his surface, waiting to break out and show the world. But he was never motivated enough to take that next step. He might never be. That thought had her both stuck and torn.

“You only think I’m good because you’re my girlfriend.” He set down his fork and sighed. “You have to say that.”

Liz bit her tongue. Reaching for her lemonade, she forced herself not to explode. This restaurant was not the place to have this discussion for the millionth time.

“Whoa, pumpkin, you all right?” There was concern in his voice, but did he care about her or whether she’d stick him with the bill?

After using the cool drink to calm her fire, she smiled. He had no idea how badly she wanted to come over the table and shake some sense into him.

What was it about today that made him particularly irritating? Liz took a mental inventory of her calendar. Was it PMS week? No, not yet. “I’m fine, babe. Just dandy.” Was she perhaps fed up with his bullshit? Maybe. Definite maybe.

“Good, because you’re acting weird tonight. You keep looking out the window and stuff and you haven’t even critiqued the food.”

“I guess my mind is on other things.”

“Oh, like what?”

The server arrived with the dessert menu, saving Liz from having to come up with an easy answer or lie. The three raviolis were supposed to be the main course? “Like dessert.” Liz faked another smile.

Bryan seemed satisfied, but he kept glancing over his menu. “Lizzie, you’re bullshitting me.”

“No. Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re like that.”

“What?” She met his gaze, denying the fury sizzling beneath her surface.

He wasn’t buying her act at all. “You need to tell me what’s on your mind. Straight up. No chaser.”

“I don’t think I should do that right now.”

“Yeah, you should. Why are you being such a bitch?” Bryan grinned, a malicious twinkle in his hazel eyes. “What’s up?”

“Chocolate. Lots of chocolate. Oh and whipped cream.” Liz studied her menu, no longer willing to so much as glance toward him.

“Dammit, Liz. What the fuck has gotten into you tonight?” Bryan didn’t have the decency to keep his voice low as he leaned forward.

She met his gaze with harsh intensity. “Keep your voice down, okay? I’m frustrated, but let’s not talk about it until we get home.”

“Oh, no, no, no. We’re talking about it now. I’m not gonna wait ‘til we get home so you can sit back and stew all this time. What is it about me that’s pissing you off? I put all my dirty clothes in the hamper like you asked me to. What the fuck?” His voice didn’t lower, it rose.

The waiter had been heading toward their table, but turned to help someone else instead.

“Well, hooray for you. Putting your dirty clothes away means that for the first time, you actually heard something I said and did the requested action. Cleaning up. What a concept, huh?” No matter how she tried to whisper, her words came out at volume.

Bryan’s eyes were wide. This was the first time Liz rose to his challenge in public or otherwise and he obviously wasn’t sure what to do about that. “What the hell? I didn’t piss in your Cheerios. And if I did, don’t you think you should tell me?”

“You couldn’t handle it.” Her jaw tightened. Why did he have to push the matter? Why was she so damn willing to push back for a change?

“Oh really? I’m a big boy. I can handle a lot more than you think. What the fuck? Come on, the whole place is lookin’ at us. Might as well put on a good show.”

The waiter stepped next to her. “Please keep your voices down or I will have to remo—”

She hollered right over him. “It’s not some fucking show, Bryan. Welcome to my life. I’m sick of you and I can’t stand to sit back and rot anymore. When you quit your old job because, as you say, ‘you were tired of it’, and then blew off the job I hooked up—for free beer, no less—I should have given up on you, but I didn’t. I let your music carry me, but goddamn it Bryan, I can’t wait any longer. I don’t want to bide my time, pay your bills and clean up after you anymore. I’m done. I am so fucking done, Bryan. Done with you.” The words blasted out of her mouth faster than she could temper them, but so what? He needed to hear them. Unfortunately, there was an audience. “Sorry, everyone. Have a great dinner.”

Even the waiter was stunned for a moment. “You need to leave now.”

Before Bryan could get his head out of his ass long enough to realize what had just happened, Liz stood, emptied the cash from her wallet and let the twenties flutter onto the table before heading toward the door. “Sorry, sir,” she said to the waiter then gritted her teeth, fighting tears that threatened to wreck her night further.

Vaguely, she heard Bryan calling after her, but she’d meant what she’d said. She was done with him. She didn’t need him and there was no reason to stay around him any longer.

In the back of her mind, she heard him screaming and cussing at her, but what a fucking asshole for using that kind of language in such a nice restaurant. What a fucking asshole for making it so easy to lose her cool. And what a fucking asshole for being such a fucking asshole.

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Excerpt: Library — Dinner
Deleted: Scene Two — Chapter Ten Opening