The waitress, a busty college-aged girl, circled by their table to take their order. It was hard to say who she was trying to show off for more—the camera or the athlete. She laughed way too hard at DeHardt’s jokes, using his banter as an excuse to get closer and drape her thirsty hands all over his massive shoulders. For minutes, the two flirted right in front of Austen, and she began to feel like she never existed, never even mattered. Even Johnny focused his camera on DeHardt and the waitress, documenting for the world whatrealchemistry looked like.
Look, he’s wild about her. That’s the kind of girl who should’ve hosted this show,Austen thought, a sinking in her stomach.Not me.
“I want the chicken Cobb salad,” Austen interrupted, prompting the girl to actually do her job.
The waitress gave her a dirty look before she reluctantly jotted down the order. “And what will you be having, Big D?”
“The prime rib, please.”
The waitress walked off.
“She seems nice,” DeHardt remarked.
“Yeah,” Austen lied, icily staring at the girl until she was out of sight. “It’s funny, though, isn’t it? Some people see the camera and think they’ll be a star. They don’t realize that we’re shooting hours and hours of footage, and odds are, they won’t make the cut. But hey, I give her credit for trying.”
DeHardt let out a stunned laugh. “Holy shit. Where the hell did that come from, Austen?”
“What?” she asked, taking another nervous gulp of her martini. “I mean, it was obvious what she was doing, don’t you think?”
“You mean, her job? I don’t know what kinda restaurants you eat at, but that’s just how waitresses are.”
Maybe with you,Austen thought with a sigh. Of course a pro athlete would have warped perceptions of daily life.
The waitress returned with a steaming hot appetizer. “Here are your tuna nachos,” she said.
Austen secretly loved that she had to correct the girl in front of DeHardt. “Oh, we didn’t order this. You must’ve made a mistake.”
“Youdidn’t order it, but whoever made the reservation for your little playdate did,” the waitress smugly countered, just as happy to make Austen look bad. “Enjoy!”
“Must’ve been my boss,” Austen muttered, stinging.
Each ‘nacho’ featured a crispy wonton with a grilled slice of rare Ahi Tuna filet, a bright green dollop of wasabi aioli, and slathered with sweet soy sauce. There were six total.
DeHardt poked at a nacho, pushing it around the plate like a five-year-old rejecting brussels sprouts. “Nachos? These aren’t nachos. Yeah, you’re gonna have to be the guinea pig on these. Looks even weirder than it sounded.”
Austen picked one up and took a small bite. “Honestly? It’s pretty good.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” DeHardt pushed the plate across the table and drank his beer instead. “Hey, your boss comes up a lot. What’s his name, anyway? Maybe I know him.”
“Thayer.”
“Thayer.” DeHardt turned that name over in his head. “Sounds familiar. Thayer what?”
“Thayer Bray.”
DeHardt’s eyes grew wide. “Kind of a weird-lookin’ dude? Big glasses, scraggly beard? Haircut that kinda looks like a bird built a nest on top of his head?”
Austen covered her mouth and tried to hide her smile from the camera. DeHardt’s description would surely make Thayer furious—but in a way, it painted the picture perfectly. Especially the bit about the bird’s nest.
“Hard to say for sure. But thatmightbe him, yes,” Austen said. She made a sympathetic frown at the camera as if to say,sorry.
DeHardt caught her glancing at the camera. He gestured at it. “Is your boss gonna see this tape?”
“Probably, yeah.”
“Hm, then yeah, you’re right to be nervous.” DeHardt motioned for Johnny to aim the camera directly at his face. “Yo! ThayBray! Fuck your nachos, and fuck you, too, man. You’re a piece of trash.”
“Dane!” Austen panted as Johnny quickly panned the camera away from the athlete. “What’s wrong with you?!”
