Amber's eyebrows furrowed. "Where?"
"Oh never mind," Brittney said.
"Oh wait," Amber said. "I've got it." She giggled. "Up her ass, right?"
"Ding, ding, ding!" Brittney said. "We have a winner!"
"If you're finished," I said in a voice far more calm than I felt, "I'd be delighted to tell you the specials."
"Oh, we're not finished," Brittney said with a menacing smile, "not by a long shot."
"Tonight, we're featuring the Mushroom Burger Plate," I said. "It comes with onion rings and a side of slaw."
Brittney scowled. "I don't care about that crap."
I gave her a bright smile. "Then, might I recommend the chef's choice? A T-bone with all the fixings?
By now, Amber was scowling up at me too. "You stop that," she said.
I blinked at them. "Stop what?"
"You know what," Amber said.
I lowered my voice as if sharing a dirty secret. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Are you a vegetarian? Then might I suggest our signature California salad?"
Silently, Brittney regarded me with undisguised hatred. Then, very deliberately, she leaned over the table until her right elbow nudged the little metal rack that held the salt and pepper. She nudged a little harder, and the rack clattered to the floor, sprinkling random splotches of salt and pepper when the rack landed sideways by my feet.
Around us, the neighboring tables grew quiet.
"Actually," Brittney said, "you can start by picking that up."
My heart was racing, but my mind was made up. I wouldnotlet her get the best of me. I looked around. "Picking what up?"
"You know what," Brittney said.
I put on my most sincere expression. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't know what – "
"Ma'am?!" Brittney said. "I'm not a ma'am."
"Oh." I raised my hand to my lips. "I'm so sorry." I cocked my head to the side. "Um…" I scrunched up my face as if thinking way too hard for my addled brain. "Then, it's uh –" I squinted at her. "Sir?"
Brittney rocketed to her feet. "I am not a sir." She thrust out her hips to one side and threw back her shoulders. "Does this look like the body of a sir to you?"
"No. Of course not. Sorry, ma'am."
She stomped her foot. "Stop that!"
"Hey, buddy!" a male voice called to her from somewhere near the bar. "Keep it down over there, will ya?"
I had to stifle a laugh. I recognized that voice. It was Eddie. There was a reason he was my favorite bartender.
Brittney whipped around toward the sound of the voice. "I. Am. Not. A. Man," she announced in a loud, clear voice. She turned to glare at Amber, who had remained sitting, her eyes wide, her mouth open. "Aren't you gonna say something?"
"Like what?" Amber whispered, loud enough for half the restaurant to hear.
"I don't know," Brittney hissed. "But don't just sit there for God's sake. We're in this together, remember?"
Fidgeting, Amber rose to her feet. By now, the dining room was eerily quiet. Her gaze bounced from one face to another. She cleared her throat.
