it was a scowl. “You don’t even look legal.”
She’d always appeared younger than her age, and her current outfit had to make her look even younger. I’m sure I’m not your first teenager. That’s what Meg would have said to him, but Lucy turned away, dumped her ruined stilettos in a trash bin, and headed cautiously into the restaurant.
To her relief, no one paid any attention to her, not because of her bad clothes or pregnancy bump, but because everyone looked at Panda. He was like Ted in that way. They both had a big presence—Ted’s good, Panda’s not.
She made her way to the restroom, cleaned up as best as she could, and rearranged her pregnancy bump. When she came out, she felt almost human.
Panda stood by the door. He wore the same wrinkled shirt, but he smelled like soap. He studied her bump. “It’s not too realistic.”
“As long as you’re around, I don’t think anybody will pay much attention to me.”
“We’ll see.”
She followed him back to the table. More than a few people in the room were watching as they slid into the booth across from each other. They ordered, and as they waited for their food to arrive, he studied the ball scores scrolling on a TV hanging in the corner.
“While you were in the john, the news said your family’s back in Virginia.”
She wasn’t surprised. Staying in Wynette would have been unbearably awkward for them. “They’re going to Barcelona tomorrow for a conference with the World Health Organization.”
He didn’t look as though he knew what a conference was, let alone the World Health Organization. “When are you calling Ted to tell him you screwed up?”
“I don’t know.”
“Running away’s not going to solve whatever problems a rich girl like you thinks you have.” His slight sneer said he didn’t believe anybody like her could have real problems.
“I’m not running,” she retorted. “I’m … on vacation.”
“Wrong. I’m on vacation.”
“And I’ve offered to pay you a thousand dollars plus expenses to take me with you.”
Right then, their food appeared. The waitress set a bacon cheeseburger, onion rings, and a garden salad in front of her. He shoved a fry into his mouth as she left. “What’re you going to do if I turn you down?”
“I’ll find someone else,” she said, which was nonsense. There was no one else. “That guy over there.” She nodded toward a rough-looking man sitting in front of a platter of pancakes. “I’ll ask him. He looks like he could use the money.”
“His mullet tell you that?”
Panda was hardly the person to criticize another man’s hairstyle, although the other women in the restaurant didn’t appear as critical as she was.
He didn’t seem to be able to do two things at once, and for a while, he chose thinking over eating. Finally he took a too-large bite and, mouth full of burger, said, “You’ll guarantee me a grand even if you don’t last through today?”
She nodded, then picked up one of the crayons left on the table for kids. She wrote on a napkin and pushed it across the table to him. “There. We have a contract.”
He studied it. Shoved it aside. “You screwed over a decent guy.”
She blinked against the sting in her eyes. “Better now than later, right? Before he found out he might be a victim of false advertising.” She wished she’d kept silent, but he merely upended the ketchup bottle and slapped the bottom.
The waitress returned with coffee and eyes for Panda. Lucy shifted position, and the plastic bag rustled under her T-shirt. The coffeepot stalled in midair as the waitress turned to look at her. Lucy ducked her head.
He wadded up the napkin contract and swiped his mouth with it. “Kid doesn’t like it when she eats too fast.”
“You girls get pregnant younger all the time,” the waitress said. “How old are you, honey?”
“Legal,” he said before Lucy could answer.
“Barely,” the waitress muttered. “When are you due?”
“Uhm …