“There’s no act you’re looking forward to seeing? Out of that whole lineup? Over two whole days?”
“I didn’t say that. I said I’m not going.”
“But who do you want to see?”
“It doesn’t matter, because I’m not going.”
“But—”
“Leave the poor girl alone, B.” The voice rumbled from the other side of the table. “And eat your damn food.”
B turned to his friend. I took advantage of the moment and got the hell out of there.
“Emma!” Lydia hollered just when I thought I was in the clear.
I turned and watched her stomp down the center aisle of the diner. My dread grew with every step. Her hands were full of paperwork from the office.
“Don’t forget about this weekend. The girls and I will be out of cell range until Sunday. Do not make me regret putting you in charge this weekend.”
Then she turned and slammed through the door, narrowly missing a few of our regulars on their way in.
“Hey Bob, Hunter.” I called, my nerves evident in my tone. “The usual?”
They grunted and slid onto stools at the bar. I turned away and scribbled their order onto my pad, passed the paper to Gwen who gave methat look, and then turned back with the coffeepot in hand.
I filled up their mugs and turned to check on the back table when something occurred to me. “Hey Hunter?”
He grunted in reply.
“Is your wife still a big fan of the Tin Gods?”
He rolled his eyes. “I love the woman, but if I have to hear about how hot their lead singer is one more time…”
I smiled as I pulled out my phone. “What’s your email address?”
“What? Why?”
“Just tell me. Email address?”
He rattled out an answer, and I tapped away at my screen. Then a whooshing sound came from my phone. “There you go. Two tickets to the festival. Have fun.”
“What? Are you serious?” Hunter blinked at me, dazed.
“Look for yourself. And tell Tori she can’t leave you for a pretty-boy singer. That’s a condition of accepting the tickets.”
“Wow. Thanks, Em. That’s amazing. I can’t, I don’t… Just, wow. Thank you.”
“Have fun.” I gave him a smile and felt slightly better for not being able to go. Being able to help out my friends helped the ache a bit.
“What?” Bob held up his hands. “Nothing for me?”
I laughed. Attending the festival would be akin to torture for him. “Sure thing.” I turned, grabbed one of the small waters I had made up in advance, and plunked it down on the countertop. “On the house. Just for you.”
His laughter rolled through the diner. “You’re the best, Emma.”
“Only for you, Bob. Only for you.”
I was still grinning as I headed for the table at the back.
