"You do too!" Amber said. "By the way, I look good in aquamarine in case you haven't picked your colors yet."
"See!" Brittney told me. "And I know you've been stealing my customers too. That Bolger guy, he won't even let me wait on him anymore."
"Yeah," I said. "Because you keep calling him fat."
Amber reached out and tapped Brittney on the shoulder.
Brittney whirled to face her. "What?"
"Do you know what the specials are?" Amber asked.
Brittney glared at her. "What specials?"
"Duh," Amber said. "We're in a restaurant. You're the waitress. Seems like an easy question."
Brittney's jaw tightened and her nostrils flared. "How'sthisfor special?" she said, reaching out to shove Amber with both hands.
Amber stumbled backward, and caught herself against the waitress stand. Her eyes narrowed, and she barreled into Brittney, knocking her back into the small crowd that had gathered to see what the commotion was.
The crowd shifted, and Brittney lost her balance, tumbling backward onto a table filled with dirty dishes. Her long blonde hair flopped into the remnants of what looked like blueberry pancakes topped with blueberry syrup.
With a string of profanity, Brittney toppled off the table and hit the floor. A split-second later, she dove, hard, for Amber's legs. Squealing, Amber toppled over, clutching at the necktie of the man standing nearest to her.
He lost his balance and toppled over too, landing halfway between Amber and Brittney, who dove for each other with the ferocity of rabid squirrels fighting over the last nut.
By now, the crowd was going nuts, with the woman watching in wide-eyed horror, and the guys cheering them on, except for the guy with the necktie, who took a heel to the gut, thanks to Brittney's flailing legs.
Frantically, I glanced around, looking for Keith, a phone, something. But what I found was Shaggy, standing there with his cell phone in his hand and a giant grin spread across his face.
"Sweeet!" he said.
"Oh for cripe's sake," I said, continuing to scan the restaurant.
I caught sight of Lawton, strolling in the front door. He stopped short at the sight of Brittney and Amber rolling around on the floor. I followed his gaze.
When a sticky blue stand of Brittney's hair whacked Amber in the face, Amber grabbed a fallen squirt-bottle of ketchup and aimed it at Brittney's face. Brittney shoved Amber aside just in time, and a geyser of ketchup streamed upward, raining down on both of them and pelting the nearest spectators with tiny red splatters.
By this time, both of the girls were covered in food-goo from the tops of their formerly blonde heads to the tips of their decidedly non-sensible shoes.
I heard a male voice off to my left say, "Somehow, I thought this would be sexier."
"Got that right," another male voice said.
And then, I heard a third male voice. It was Keith, who bellowed out, "What the hell is going on here?"
He waded in, separating the two girls amid a chorus of booing from the male spectators. I felt a hand on my elbow, and looked to see Lawton standing next to me, an easy smile playing across his face.
"So," he said in a low, amused voice. "How wasyourday, honey?"
I glanced at Brittney and Amber, who'd been hustled to opposite sides of a long booth for eight. "Eh, same ol', same ol'," I said.
Amber's eyes lit up. "Lawton!" she called. "Yoohoo! Over here!"
Slowly, he turned to look.
"Have you heard?" she said. "I'm gonna be a bridesmaid!"
Lawton's face lost all its expression. He glanced at me. I didn't know what to say. He turned back to Amber, and his gaze narrowed.
