The Predicament of Persians - A.G. Henley Page 0,27
his shoulder. “Thank you. Seriously. You have no idea how much this means to me. And I will definitely make it up to you.”
He nods and wipes his mouth. “You bet you will. We’re going to the Gator Bar for a week when we get home.”
I groan. He loves that joint. I think it stinks like sweat and spilled alcohol. “Whatever you say.” I glance at my watch. “Hey, listen, Kathleen’s brother James is meeting me here in a minute, and I don’t want him to see us together, so . . .”
“Piss off?” Boyd raises a dark eyebrow with a frown.
I try to look as apologetic as possible. “Thanks again, cousin.”
He stands. “Yeah, yeah. Good luck tonight. With Kathleen and with the award.”
I get up too. “No, not the award. I want her to win that.”
His eyebrows pull in. “Oh right. This weekend is confusing.”
James walks into the lounge, and I step behind my cousin. “Go, Boyd, he’s here.”
Boyd leaves, muttering darkly to himself. Not that I blame him. I wave James and then the waitress over.
“What would you like?” she asks Kathleen’s brother.
He checks out the cocktail menu. “I’ll have a Lint Roller, the nachos, and the flatbread.”
I stare at him. “Aren’t you coming to dinner with us . . . in an hour?”
“Yeah, so?”
I shake my head and ask the waitress for another beer.
“You’re a busy man tonight,” she says.
I smile and turn away, not wanting to invite any more commentary. It works; she takes off.
“So, James, how’s Kathleen?” I ask. “Is she nervous?”
He throws me an incredulous look and shrugs. “How would I know?”
“Haven’t you seen her?”
“Yeah. But I don’t ask how she feels all the time.” He snorts, picks up the silverware, and drums on the table.
I have the urge to lecture him about how the award ceremony is a big deal for her, that she needs his support, and it’s time to step up for her sake, but I don’t give in to it. It’s all true, but I don’t think it will help my cause.
“Listen, James, I have a favor to ask you.” I need lots of favors tonight.
“What’s that?” He picks up the little bowl of peanuts the waitress drops off and pops them one by one into his mouth. Rapid fire.
“I, uh—”
I can’t focus. His cheeks are getting full like a chipmunk’s. When it seems like he can’t squeeze any more nuts in there, mostly because the bowl is empty, he finally starts to chew. I pry my eyes away.
“So, here’s the thing,” I say. “I really like your sister. And I think she likes me, too.”
“What are you guys . . . in high school?” Bits of nut shower from his lips into his lap. It’s disgusting.
I take a long breath. “Okay, if you want to know the truth, I love her.”
He makes a face. “Why?” More nut bits dribble out. “I thought you must have problems to want to take her out on a date, but now I know you do.”
Problems? I think James has the problem. Or more accurately, Kathleen. But he’s her brother, her only family, and hopefully, my future brother-in-law. I’m determined to be nothing but polite to him. I smile thinly.
“I do have a problem, James. I only have one day to convince your sister to marry me.”
He chokes, spitting nuts all over the table. I slide back to avoid getting sprayed. “What?”
“I’m very, very serious. I want to marry Kathleen.”
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Wait until she hears this.”
I hold up my hands. “No! This is strictly between you and me. Please. I’ll ask her in my own time.” And although my own time will hopefully be in the next twenty-four hours, I don’t need him spoiling it. “But I need your help to make sure she knows I’m serious and legitimate.”
“How can I do that?” He still looks stunned, but with a hint of a mocking smile on his face. Maybe this was a mistake.
“First, I wanted you to know how I feel. I meant every word I said. I love Kathleen, and I plan to ask her to marry me.”
He waves his hand around. “Yeah, yeah. Love stuff. Got it.”
“Second, I have plenty of money, a condo, and a boat.”
James rolls his eyes. “Brag much?”
My teeth clench, but I work hard to smile affably. “I’m trying to tell you that I can afford to take care of her.”
“Uh huh, okay.” He sounds completed uninterested.
I press on. “I’ve