“My father isn’t at all the man I thought he was. He’s not the man Mom married, so… things are on the rocks, and he wants to get back together, and Mom is not up for that at all.”
“We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about,” he protests.
The waitress comes with our drinks and his nachos. She brought over two plates, and Rob hands me one.
“If you want, feel free.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, and I take one but only one.
Rob takes a long swig of his beer. “It sucks that neither of us had parents who were a model of a loving couple.”
“Your mom—”
"Nope." He shakes his head. "She was… is… basically obsessed with him. She is a bit delusional even when off the drugs. She doesn't remember things correctly and thinks my dad did nothing wrong. She acts like they had the perfect relationship, like he was perfect. He was a great dad. Don't get me wrong, but they fought a few times. Nothing major, but the one time I mentioned that to her, she… Let's just say she didn't take to it kindly."
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” He laughs. “You aren’t the only one ruining the mood.”
“What mood? We’re just talking.”
“About anything and everything but my friends.”
I swallow hard. “What do you want to talk about as far as they’re concerned?”
“What do you have to say?”
“I… ah…”
“Rob!”
I glance over to see the girl who sang terribly hurrying over. Her boobs bounce all over the place.
“I almost didn’t recognize you with your clothes on,” she says with a laugh. “How are you doing?”
“Much better now that my clothes are on.”
“Hmm. You and your cock… Your cock does tend to get you in trouble.” She winks at him and completely ignores me.
I clear my throat. “You were singing earlier?”
Now she glances my way. “Did you like it?”
“I did, but not as much as I like it when Rob’s naked and on top of me or when I’m on top of him or when I—”
“Enjoy it while it lasts, honey,” she says with a wave of her hand and flip of her hair that has got to kill her neck. “Rob here like to sample pussy as in every pussy he can get his hands on.”
“Hands, cock, lips…”
She wrinkles her nose at me, wiggles her fingers at Rob before making the “call me” sign, and then stomps away.
“Please tell me that wasn’t Allie,” I say.
“Oh, no. Definitely not.”
“So she was mistake number sixty-nine?”
“More like ninety-nine.”