His eyes sparkling with contained laughter, Phil leaned over. His lips next to my ear, he said warmly, “It’s Louis.” He pronounced it Louie, too.
“Philip Louis Deveraux,” I said, my mouth curling up. “After your dad. How sweet.”
“What’s yours? I can’t believe I don’t know.”
Alys ripped a snort. “Oh, I’m so happy to be witnessing this!”
My face felt as though it had been torched with a flamethrower.
“Is it that bad?” Phil asked.
“You already know her middle name!” crowed Alys.
“I do?”
“Kenna is my middle name,” I said, glaring at my dearest, most beloved best friend, whom I was ready to stab in the face with a chopstick.
“Are you telling me I don’t know your first name?” asked Phil, sounding incredulous.
X’s orange eyebrows looked as though they were trying to crawl their way up to hide in his hairline.
“No one knows her first name, Phil. Don’t feel bad. She tries to forget about it herself.” Alys wiped a stray tear from her face. “Come to think of it, I don’t even know if Lili knows it.”
Lili totally knew it. Alys was only trying to make Phil feel better.
“What is it?” he demanded, his voice silky and lethal.
I huffed violently through my nose, mashing my lips together. Thanks a lot, Alys.
He shoved his furious face right up in mine. “What is it?” His voice—so low, so soft—was scarier than his yelling.
My crotch pulsed something fierce.
I made my eyes meet his and glared right back at him. Clearing my throat, I replied in complete mortification, “Zephyr.”
“Bless you?” X said, sounding confused.
“My name is Zephyr Kenna MacGregor. My dirty hippie parents named me Zephyr, okay? And I hate it. By the time I was eight, I refused to acknowledge anyone who called me by it. No one calls me that, and only my mother ever slipped up from time to time. After I started med school, I made Kenna my legal name.”
“That’s why I couldn’t find you,” Phil spit, sitting back hard into the booth.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You fuckin’ well should! I hired a private fuckin’ investigator to fuckin’ find you, and there is no one in the entire fuckin’ state of Louisiana named Kenna!”
Alys was losing it again. “Well, there is now! This is too fuckin’ funny!”
“Screw you, Alys Sunshine Stuart!” I snapped. “At least my parents loved me enough to make sure my initials didn’t spell ASS!”
X gasped, and his electric-blue eyes turned to his woman. “Oh my God, they did that to you?”
Alys started to slip into a silent laughing fit. I couldn’t help it. I started to snicker. When she laughed like this, it was contagious. Phil seemed to be the only one who wasn’t amused at this point. He was giving me some serious evil eyes.
“What?” I barked. “I never even think about it anymore! It’s not like it’s information I just hand out, especially not to dudes I hook up with at a concert!”
“I’m not some fuckin’ dude,” he hissed.
“Fine,” I said, snatching back my hand. “Be a pissy little bitch about it then.”
“Seriously, your middle name is Sunshine?” X asked Alys, his eyes wide with surprise.
Alys responded with some nostril flares.
“It really is,” I sweetly replied to X. “Alys Sunshine Stuart. ASS.”
Alys weakly lifted her hand and pointed at me, unable to breathe.
“Hey, you started it,” I told her.
Her hand dropped onto the table, and her head slapped the back of the booth, her mouth gaping and tears streaming down her face.
“Is she okay?” asked X, looking quite alarmed.
“Yep.”
Alys pointed at me again—this time, with a little more conviction.
“Oh, I’m the bitch? You totally got me into trouble. You realize this, don’t you? My boyfriend just started his rag because of you—”
“Oy!” barked Phil.
Alys flapped her hand at me.
“Bitch, I will smack you back.”
X leaned across the table and whispered to Phil, “I have no fuckin’ clue what’s goin’ on.”
“Get used to it,” grumped Phil. “These females have their own fuckin’ language.”
Alys flopped onto her side on the bench. I was fighting the urge to bust out laughing myself at her antics. I loved it when she lost her shit like that.
“Are you sure she’s okay? She’s not epileptic or anything, right?” asked X.
Other diners were now taking notice of us, and I had to bite my cheeks to keep in my laughter.
Phil tentatively reached over and took back my hand, his thumb stroking over my knuckles. “I think Zephyr is pretty,” he said softly.