I relaxed and smiled a little more genuinely this time. “No specials,” I said. “We were thinking about the rotisserie chicken, a half order.”
Gwendolyn whipped out her notepad. “One half of chicken, split two ways.” she said.
I held up my hands for her to stop. “Don’t worry about splitting it,” I told her. “We don’t want anything special. No need for special treatment at all. Okay?”
The waitress was picking up what I was laying down, now. “Don’t worry, sir,” she said. “Our food is good, but none of it is special. Usually if anyone wants to eat anything special here, they’ve gotta bring it from home.”
I made a show of laughing, knowingly. We were two old pals, we were. Me and Cassie were practically regulars thanks to an extra twenty. “No home cooked meals tonight,“ Cassie said. “Just some good old fashioned barbecue.” It was paranoid of us, admittedly, but it was a lot harder to slip fast acting laxatives or any other drugs into half a chicken and not have it be noticed.
“Yes ma’am,” the waitress said. “Sides?”
“Double order of fries,” I said. We’d divvy up those between us. If I had the willpower, I’d give a good chunk of mine over to Cassie. Still had to lose some weight.
The waitress jotted it down. “Do you want the chicken basted in any sauce?”
“Plain’s fine,” Cassie said, thumbing over to the row of sauce bottles against the wall. “That way when we split the half chicken ourselves, we can each get our own flavors.”
Truth be told, we’d probably both go for the sweet sauce. Real reason? Our waitress had taken the bribe and the hint. Didn’t mean our cooks would. Finally, Amazon, Tweener, or Little: A barbecue that didn’t have bottles of sauce at every table wasn’t worth spit it took to swallow.
“Okay,” the waitress said. “I’ll make sure to tell them no sauce. I’ll be right back with your waters.”
Cassie and I just looked at each other, our chins just past the high top, until Gwendolynn came back with our waters. We’d probably have to stand for most of this meal, balancing precariously on the leather upholstered stools all the while, but it’d be nice for neither one of us to have to cook. “Anniversary?” Cassie said to me as soon as our waitress had left. “Really?”
I shrugged and grinned a little bit. “What?” I said. “We are married. We’re not expecting anything free, and this,” I flashed the little gold ring on my left hand, “is the only proof we need, at best.”
Cassie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Then why bring it up?” She was humoring me.
“Because babies don’t get married,” I said.
“I think you just like lying to the talls. Gives you a thrill.”
“No comment.”
We both laughed at that.