Jesse drives past my hotel.
“What the hell?” I say.
He looks at me, grinning. “You’ll thank me later.”
I smile at him and turn to the window to look out. Shit. He’s so crazy, but he’s still my friend and lover. Hahaha! I know, I get it. Me and Jesse. We always make jokes when we were kids. Ain’t that so insane. He turns on the radio when he does that it means that he can’t stand the silence and B.o.B. and Bruno’s Nothin’ on You came on. Freaky. Ergh!! Get out of my head, bitch. I can hear Bruno say, “No, never.” Damn.
“Is anything wrong?” he asks.
“No, nothing’s wrong.”
I smile at him, covering up that train of Bruno thoughts.
He makes a sudden stop. “Here we are?”
I look around, after getting out of his car. He takes my hand and leads me in. Didn’t I been in this situation before? Yeah, well… I think so. He pulls a chair out and pretends to model it with his hand. I sit down and he sits down across me. I pick up a menu and I look at it. “It’s a little expensive.”
“Doesn’t matter, just order something,” he says.
“Really?” I put down the menu on the table. “It’s a little expensive.”
“I’m rich, bitch. Just order something and eat it.”
“Fine.” I pick up the menu again and start to look for something to eat.
A waiter comes towards us, he taps his pen on his pad and says, “I’m Bruno and I’ll be your waiter for this evening.”
Damn. Really? The waiter’s name is Bruno. Are you kidding me?
“What can I get you to drink?” he asks us.
But this Bruno has blonde hair and green eyes, probably British or Australian.
“Water for me, and get this lady, red wine,” Jesse orders.
He writes it down. “I’ll get you a minute to think about, what you want to eat.”
“Are you serious?” I ask him.
“Yes, and this is my favorite restaurant here when I was on my Beautiful Soul tour,” he explains, why he brought me to this restaurant.
I fold my arms. The waiter walks towards us with my red wine. He places it on the table, in front of me. I pick it up and I take a sip.
“What can I get you to eat?” he asks.
“I’ll have that seafood pasta,” Jesse says. “And get this lady, some…” He snaps his fingers at me. How rude?
“I’ll have the alfredo pasta.”
He writes it down and walks towards the kitchen. Fuck this. I can’t stand, anything expensive from anyone, unless it’s all there damn money.
“What happened in England?” he asks.