Her Billionaires_ Boxed Set(66)

“You are such an asshole.”

“But you love me.”

“Well, now you’re buying.”

“No way.” Laura reached for the triangle game with pegs. All the writing had worn off long ago, and the wood was a solid block—this was an old stand-by that had probably been original to the place when it opened. The pegs were worn down and the colors faded, but the premise was the same: get down to one peg.

Laura played. Three pegs.

Josie played. Three pegs. “Doo doo doo doo,” she teased, like music from a creepy movie. “The universe it telling you something.” Laura snatched the damn game out of Josie’s hands as Gloria Gaynor went into her second verse.

Just then, Madge appeared with the potato pancakes and a huge, steaming pile of coconut shrimp. Three cruets of aioli and she and Josie dug in before Madge could croak out with “Anything else?”

“Mmmmmmmm,” Josie groaned, her mouth nibbling on the end of a fried shrimp the size of her hand. “Uh, yeah.” Brow furrowed, she caught Laura’s eye. “Did we forget the fried green tomatoes?”

Before Laura could reply, Madge said, “Got it,” striding off.

“We are going to be so full,” Laura said, using the side of her fork to cut a pancake.

“Is that a complaint?” Josie opened her mouth and panted, trying not to burn her tongue.

“Nope. Can’t you wait until it cools down?” She pointed at Josie’s mouth.

“Nope.” The two sat in silence, the only sound now their masticating, jaws working furiously on dissembling the amazing tastes before them. It was a relief for Laura; too many hands, too many mouths on her, too many feelings that didn’t have a home. Eating was easy. Order delicious food. Have it delivered. Open mouth. Enjoy. Repeat ad nauseum.

Food was always there for her. It never changed. Hot fudge was hot fudge. Butter crunch ice cream just was. Coconut shrimp were steadfast and tasty, filling time, her belly, and whatever aching hole was in her that needed to be sated.

Cheesy potato pancakes didn’t send out confusing signals. Cookies didn’t judge her. Peanut Butter Hulk Smash cake would serve her, would be at her disposal, would meet her needs.

With no expectations.

Screw Dylan and Mike. Fuck them.

Fuck them in the eye.

At the thought, she punctuated the air with her fork, imagining poking them with it. Josie looked up from her plate, mouth stuffed now with the cooled-down shrimp.

“You conducting a symphony?”

“Fork you.”

“Paradise by the Dashboard Light” wafted through the restaurant, a group of college kids snarking on the old tune and torturing poor Madge with half-drunk requests. She’d probably served their parents. Maybe even their grandparents. Laura rolled her eyes and dug in, her turn at coconut shrimp heaven.

“Ahhhh,” she moaned. Josie’s impatience made more sense now. Each bite was like something out of a food porn movie, like Coconutty Clit Lovers with Clam Sauce or—no, scratch that. She had just grossed herself out. Did she make that joke aloud? If not, why was Josie staring at her like that?

“Coconutty what?” Josie gagged, her face in a confused snarl. Laura could feel her cheeks turn a hot red as she felt the room spin a bit, overwhelmed by what she now realized was nearly twenty-four hours of being awake, the most intense sexual experience of her life just a few hours behind her, and Madge’s lined face twisted into a pantomime of smoking, her fingers against those leathered lips and sucking away at an imaginary cigarette.

Her thousand-mile stare bore through Laura, who pulled her eyes away to look down and see the last coconut shrimp on the plate. Grabbing it, she shoved the entire thing greedily into her mouth, only to hear Josie’s confusion shift to a self-righteous howl.

“Hhhheeeeyyyy! No fair! What the hell is wrong with you?” Josie’s sulking face was an after-thought for Laura, who right now felt like an animal in the woods, all instinct and no thought.

“Nothing,” Laura muttered. What the hell was wrong with her? “It’s just—this is soooooo good.” She ate the tail and all, the breading and the crunchy outer shell making her gag.

“Coconutty...Laura, you need some sleep.”

Madge turned and nearly ran into the kitchen, then emerged with a still-sizzling plate of friend green tomatoes and more cruets filled with sauce from heaven.

Palm outstretched, Laura flicked her wrist toward Josie, the gesture meant to allow her friend first dibs on the tomatoes. Appeased, Josie dug in, playing hot potato with the breaded delight. “Hot! Hot! Hot!”

Chipotle maple sausage appeared out of nowhere, followed by an enormous piece of green cake smothered in hot fudge and peanut butter sauce, sprinkled with pistachios and surrounded by two huge scoops of vanilla ice cream coated with a crunchy brown sugar sauce.