Anyone But You Read Online Free PDF

half suspected the old lady could mop the floor with the rest of us, mentally speaking. Leaning closer to me, she whispered cryptically, “If you go digging up dirt, you’d better be sure you really want to see what’s buried underneath.” The wizened waitress had worked at Cap’s longer than any of us. Did she know something more about our family’s epic grudge that she wasn’t saying? The only thing I could say for certain was that my cousins and the other part-time waiters and busboys we had on staff at the restaurant weren’t exactly lobbying for a peace accord with our not-so-friendly competition. I had to wonder if any of them might have done something to incur this latest act of war. They were always puffing out their chests to one another about what they could do to mess with the Montes. Had they done something first? Was the fire alarm stunt an act of reprisal?
    Mom dabbed her napkin at the corners of her mouth, careful not to mar the coral lipstick that had long been her signature shade.
    “Security cameras,” she said, eyeing my father. “That sounds … expensive.”
    “Rich thought it was a good idea,” Dad explained. “Thinks it’ll protect his investment.” Perry Beresdorfer’s dad, Rich, a venture capitalist who worked in an office building down the street, was a long-standing patron of Cap’s. He had approached my dad following our latest debacle and offered to front the money we needed to get the business back up and running. It was a loan, of sorts, but not without a catch. Rich Beresdorfer naturally wanted ownership in the business as recompense for his generous contribution to the “Cap’s Clean-Up Fund.” Once my dad got our business back in the black, he’d purchase Rich’s shares, plus interest. The whole thing sounded a bit squirrelly to me, but Dad had been acting a lot more optimistic—cautiously happy, even—as a result of this arrangement.
    “Speaking of that whole nightmare, I finally heard back from our
Zwaggert
’s critic,” Mom said. “His leg’s in a cast, and he’s not exactly a bucket of sunshine, but I don’t get the sense he’s going to take legal action or anything.”
    “Okay,” Dad sighed, “but what about our
Zwaggert
’s rating?”
    “Well, I didn’t go there with him, obviously,” answered Mom, who tended to handle things with more delicacy. Though no one voiced it aloud, we were all thinking about the fact that a cable foodie network had just crowned our rivals’ restaurant, Monte’s, as having the best deep-dish in the city. It was another foreboding indication of our eatery’s dwindling cultural relevance.
    “So, Gigi,” said my Aunt Val, changing the subject, “is there anything special that you want for your birthday?”
    “A restraining order against Perry,” Ty suggested. I couldn’t help but smile and nod in agreement at my favorite cousin’s quip. As different as he and I were, he always looked out for me—though I got the sense that, like an overprotective big brother, Ty didn’t want me interacting with
any
potential suitor, dolt or otherwise.
    “You be nice to that boy, Gigi,” Mom snapped. “His dad is holding our purse strings.”
    “No pressure, or anything,” Enzo said with a snort. “You’re lucky they’re not planning your wedding to that sledgehammer.”
    “ …
yet
,” Frankie said. As usual, getting a word in edgewise among this crew was an exercise in futility. I often wished I could just say what was on my mind as effortlessly—callously, even—as my cousins did, but this family didn’t seem to have room for me, the youngest, to be as outspoken as the rest. I finally piped up when everyone else at the table was officially mid-chew.
    “Can I at least assume I won’t have to cover tables the night of my party?” I asked. Nights off were a rare treat for me. My sorry social calendar would make cloistered nuns look like party girls by comparison. Of course, I had a few close friends from the