On His Face - Tabatha Kiss Page 0,108

Trix exhales. “I gotta go. Nora’s here.”

Oh, thank god. Trix always whips out English when she wants to signal to her grandmother to wrap it up.

“Yes, she still has that blonde hair you like,” she says into the phone, looking at me. “No, she’s not married. No, I won’t tell her—” She heaves and lowers the phone an inch. “She wants you to get married.”

“Tell her I’ll try,” I say with a laugh.

“She says she’ll try, Ma.” Trix pauses to listen. “I’m not telling her that. ... Because it’d set feminism back fifty years.”

I chuckle and reach for my glass. The fresh orange juice tickles my nose as I take a long sip and the champagne bubbles twitch all the way down. I wait all week for this. Judging by the two empty glasses sitting in front of Trix already, she needed it, too.

“Okay, Ma, bye. Bye. I said bye. Addio. Ti amo.”

She ends the call and drops her phone onto the tablecloth with a dull clink. “Aughhh,” she groans, letting all her breath out.

“So, how’s Ma?” I ask her.

“Charming, as usual. Is it warm in here?”

“Not really.”

She flares her jacket to brush air into her face. “Feels like Satan himself just gave me a facial.”

I laugh. “Everything okay?”

“It will be. Ma’s just freaking out about my dad’s trial. This prosecutor is out for blood and has refused every plea our lawyers have thrown at him. Fuckin’ shark.”

I pout. “Poor Papa ‘Gento.”

Trix tosses her jacket over the back of her chair and continues fanning herself with a cloth napkin. “Like I said, it’ll work out. It just might get worse before it gets better, that’s all.”

“Such is life.”

We raise our flutes and clink them together before downing the rest of our drinks. As soon as I look up, the server is back again with a tray of fresh mimosas. Keep ‘em coming, buddy. As always.

He gathers our empties, his eyes sneaking a peek at the sleeve tattoo up and down Trix’s right arm. Not the usual sight you’d find in an upscale place like Moira’s Cafe but we’ve been regulars here for years.

Also, no one on staff would dare kick out Angelo Argento’s only daughter.

She’s heiress to the fucking mob.

“Oh, my god, I hope you bleed to death.”

“Ain’t gonna happen, honey.”

“Don’t call me that. Never call me that.”

“Yes, honey.”

I look at Trix and we both grin at the voices carrying through the restaurant toward our table.

“Well, this should be good,” Trix says.

We both sit back and watch for Melanie to come into sight around the corner. She beelines for the table and throws her purse over the back of the third chair before plopping down on it.

“Hey, guys,” she says, slightly out of breath.

I open my mouth to ask what’s wrong but I stop when I see Robbie following her path back here.

“Oh, hey, Robbie!” I greet him.

Trix beams at him. “Robbie! Hi!”

Melanie flexes her jaw. “Don’t hey, Robbie him.”

Robbie strolls up to the table in his usual leather jacket and jeans. He jerks his head to flop his hair to one side. It’s getting a little long but Robbie’s one of the only guys I’ve ever met who can really pull off that look.

“Hey, ladies,” he says at me and Trix, smiling back at us.

“And don’t hey, ladies them either,” Melanie spits.

I look down and gasp at the thick, white bandage wrapped around his right hand. “Robbie, what happened to you? Are you okay?”

He opens his mouth to answer but Melanie talks over him.

“Don’t answer that,” she says at him. “They don’t actually care.”

He reaches out and nudges her chin. “Aw, you seem tense, honey. Did you fall off your broomstick this morning?”

She recoils. “Why did you even follow me in here?”

“It’s Sunday morning so I figured you’d be running over here to compare notes with the other Powerpuff Shrews. Thought I’d stop in and say hi.”

“Hi,” she says. “Bye, now.”

“Actually, wait,” Trix says. “Robbie, I could use your opinion on something.”

Melanie glares at her. “Seriously?”

Robbie throws on a wide grin and steals a chair from the nearest empty table. He sets it down backward and lowers himself onto the seat with wide-open legs. “How can I be of service, milady?” he asks her.

Trix gestures at him. “Well, you’re a guy.”

Melanie scoffs. “Debatable.”

“Yes,” Robbie says, ignoring her. “Last I checked. Wait...” He reaches below and cups himself. “Okay, go ahead.”

I bite my cheek to keep from laughing as Melanie’s eyes roll.

Trix leans forward. “What would be the nicest way