Two Bears are Better Than One(5)

“This place has a huge bar,” Jill said. “I’ll bet you ten bucks they have what you want.”

She looked around the cattleman-decorated steakhouse, and kicked one of the peanut shells she’d thrown on the floor. Unless this joker asked for something really ridiculous, they’d—

“I need a rum runner. Four shots, two light and two spiced. I need that with two splashes of pineapple juice, one of orange juice, one of crème de menthe, and top it with coconut shavings.”

The poor waiter just kind of stared at him. “Uh,” he was smiling though. “Do you want the coconuts sweetened or regular?”

Tripp regarded the waiter, like he was trying to figure out which they had so he could order the opposite. “Sweet...”

A pleasant smile spread across the waiter’s face.

“Unsweet! Natural, regular, whatever.”

“Perfect. I’ll have that right out, sir.” He flashed a quick grin to Jill, who immediately knew that he was indeed a kindred spirit. Tripp, for his part, had wide open eyes and a gawking, fish-like mouth, until he realized his date was watching. And then he settled back into a very practiced, nonplussed expression.

Jill kinda wanted to punch one of his pooched out, pouty lips to see if it was full of that stuff that fills beanbag chairs.

“I bet he fucks it up,” Tripp said, cocking his obnoxious grin. “Sorry about swearing.”

Jill pursed her lips, in a sarcastic smirk, accidentally. “I can handle bad words,” she said. She was getting nasty, which meant she was getting bored, which meant she needed to go, but she promised herself she’d at least give this guy a shot.

After all, the alternative was, what? Keep diddling herself at work? She wasn’t fooling anyone. Jill was a girl needing a release. A big one.

How long does it take until I’ve done my due diligence?

The drinks arrived, not a second too soon. Jill’s was in a highball, and Tripp’s was... a thing to be admired, that’s for sure.

A massive umbrella was jabbed into the side of a hollowed out pineapple, filled with so much rum and juice and coconut shavings that it almost sloshed out when he set it down. “Ready to order?” he asked with a grin in Jill’s direction. “Or would you like a minute?”

“I’ll take the rare porterhouse, baked potato, uh, broccoli and mac and cheese,” Jill said, smiling.

“Great. You know that’ll be extra for the three sides?”

“Yep!” Jill said. “He’s rich. Like, super rich.” She batted her eyelashes almost comically. “He told me so, over and over again. I think he can swing the extra eight bucks. Right Tripp?”

The look on Tripp’s face was a vast ocean of bullshit. Jill figured it was laid on so thick that floating an ocean liner on top wouldn’t be that tough. He smiled the kind of smile that people give off when they think they’re better than everyone, but don’t want to admit it.

“Oh yeah,” Tripp said, “I can definitely cover some sides.”

He looked back at Jill and winked.

He winked? Who the fuck winks? Am I on a date with someone’s grandpa who is about to pull a quarter out of my ear? What’s next, balloon animals?

“I’ll have the surf and turf,” Tripp said, never taking his eyes off Jill for a second.

“We don’t have any lobster, sir,” the waiter said. “There are cows hanging on the wall. Steakhouse, and all.”

Finally turning to the waiter to regard him like a human, Tripp smirked casually back at Jill. “What sort of steakhouse doesn’t have lobster?”

The waiter popped his neck. “One that has two lockers full of aging sides of beef and a third full of aging cut steaks. If you want a surf and turf, go to Red Lobster.”

A smile crossed the man’s face that he wiped off very quickly. Jill did exactly the same, except she hung onto her grin a little longer.

“I can’t... I can’t believe a waiter is speaking to me like this! If you don’t watch your mouth, you’re going to get this restaurant a one star Yelp review!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” the waiter said, faked meekness apparent to everyone except Tripp. “I was just joking with you, I thought we’d established a rapport, what with the drink you ordered and all. By the way, have you tried it?”

Tripp eyed the pineapple suspiciously. “Smells strong.”

“Yes sir, it is quite. Made exactly to order.” He smiled broadly, watching Tripp squirm.

Pulling his pineapple over by the napkin underneath it, Tripp grinned at Jill. She pretended not to notice. As the pompous jackass flashed a smile in her direction, vague remorse crept into Jill’s stomach. She wasn’t sure why, but she began to feel a little bad about the riding she was putting on.

Sure, she thought, this guy’s the giant tool who kept posturing more and more until he ended up looking like an idiot, but he’s probably a decent enough guy, I—

The slurping noise, followed by the sharp exhalation, and then the coughing, made her smile, but she banished the laughter as quickly as she could. She reached over and urged him to put down the pineapple, out of fear he might drink himself somehow more smug than he already was, and that, she thought, might actually make him explode.

“I’m okay,” he coughed again. “I mean, boy, yes, that’s fantastic! Best I ever tasted, I...”

Suddenly, Tripp started looking a little bit more like drip. He frowned, he lurched, and then he started swallowing a little too much.

“Are you okay?” she stood up as Tripp made a deep, unfortunate yurk sound, and grabbed the tabletop.

In a moment of clarity, Jill realized what was happening and also figured the answer must be on him somewhere. She pushed the woozy, gurgling jackass to the floor and started riffling through his pockets, starting with his jacket, and then the pocket of his vest – the one she’d thought so comically overdressed for a steakhouse in Santa Barbara that she’d laughed in her water – and found nothing.

“I’m not sure you can do that here,” the waiter said. “Maybe—”

“Shut up,” Jill shot back, “looking for an EpiPen. This guy was so pompous he wouldn’t admit he was allergic to something in that drink. Here, got it.” Wrapping her fingers around the metal and plastic cylinder in his man-purse, Jill threw the bag aside and glanced briefly at the instructions.

“Are you a doctor?” the waiter asked.

“Sort of,” Jill said, gritting her teeth. She readied herself to cram the needle in somewhere that wouldn’t hit a vein. Tripp raised a plaintive hand and started mouthing something.

“N...no!” he hissed. “Don’t... need...”

“You sure?” Jill asked. Already, he was starting to deflate, but slowly. He pointed for a glass of water. She shook her head, unsure this was really the best idea, but grabbed the water and cradled Tripp’s head as he drank.

Halting, choking breaths began to calm, and even though it wasn’t perfect, Tripp started breathing again in something approaching normal. She checked his pulse, he croaked, and then smiled.

“Uh... thanks,” he said, blushing. “Maybe I shouldn’t have,” he paused for a halting breath, and fell into a coughing fit.

“What was it?” Jill asked. “The pineapple?”

Tripp’s lips were a red, and still a little swollen. He nodded, but refused to look her in the face for a moment. “The Epi-Pen is for ant bites. Pineapples and chili peppers, they both do the inflated lips thing. It just takes a few minutes to clear up.” He pulled a couple of Benadryl tablets out of his wallet and tossed them back. “But I do sorta need to go to the doctor to make sure.” He was talking, but he still wouldn’t look at her.

“Hey,” she said, as gently as possible, but refusing to touch him because honestly his whole face was puffy, and it seemed uncomfortable. “It’s all right. We all do stupid shit to impress people sometimes. And at least you keep Benadryl in your wallet instead of condoms.”

His eyes were watery when he looked back at her, sad and droopy, and more than a little red. He sniffed, but then he laughed a little at her joke.

In a way she did feel for him, but in another, she was just tired of the games. The charade, the constant, pointless, endless make believe of dating. She wanted someone who knew who he was, someone who was comfortable in his own skin, someone... she’d probably never find.

And then her thoughts turned back to the year she was about to spend in the damn woods. I’m sure after a year in the Appalachian outback, even this guy will seem like the kind of treat I need to wrap my legs around and ride into the sunset.

Somehow, Jill turned the exact same color as Tripp’s shrinking bottom lip. “Are,” he coughed lightly. “Are you okay?”

She flushed when she realized how visible her embarrassment was, and shook her head with a smile as she stood up. She had her hand lying on his chest, and was absentmindedly curling her fingertips against him. She shook her head at that too.

“We can do that,” he swallowed, “if you want,” he swallowed again, his throat clicking that time. “But I’m not sure we can do it here.” A mischievous smile crossed his face, and the two of them laughed for a moment. Tripp chuckled at his own joke, and Jill at the idea of actually having sex with this guy in the middle of Ruby Montreal’s steakhouse.