Thorns

14 - Whitney

"Whatever. Let's just go," I grunted and shoved past him.

He quickly moved me aside and opened the door so I would get inside.

What the hell, dude? Can't you just be the ape you usually are? Talk about going against type...

"Thanks," I mumbled as I got in.

When he got in the driver's seat, he was smiling in a way I never saw him do. It creeped me out.

He turned on the radio and let a soft music play. I kinda liked that, it was an Adele song, and I love her. So, I hummed it as he drove through the town's center streets.

"So, you're ok, now? About the faintin', the other day," He specified when I frowned.

"I'm fine," I said, pressing my lips together and clutching my hands into fists.

"What did the doctor say?"

"Look, can we please not discuss it? I hate when people find out and then pretend to be all worried. Forget it." I said, rising a hand so he wouldn't get into a discussion "Just drop it. Whitney's not equal to Diabetes. That's not who I am, it's just part of the body."

He stood quietly for a while, just driving and paying attention to the road. I started to believe he actually gave up.

"Why poms? Couldn't you do any other sport? Why jump around like a crazy monkey?"

"Like you don't like to watch us" I snorted, and he did a crooked smile.

"Touché. Still, why?"

"My dads wouldn't let me do any other sport. Too dangerous, they would say."

"Your dad looked like the Diablo himself when he picked you up at school," He said, and it looked like he was impressed.

"Yeah. Gay men don't all dress in pink, wear wigs and sing Cher, you know?" I growled, and he stared at me.

"I didn't say that, did I?" He asked, actually in a soft way "I get it. You believe I don't but actually, I do understand. You have that tough shell so no one gives you shit. I mean, bein' the adopted diabetic daughter of a gay couple... must've been hell growin' up."

Yeah. It was. But he wasn't gonna know how hard it was. I'd rather die.

When he parked the car, we went out and followed to the restaurant. It was a very nice restaurant, I'd been there once, with Portia and the guys, for her birthday. There were other couples out on dates, and they all looked either happy or shy. Rai and I just looked uncomfortable and bored.

Well, he did dress up well, though. On gray trousers, black low cut boots, white shirt with the first buttons opened, and a military black jacket on top, he looked really attractive. Yeah, I had eyes, ok?

The man at the reception smiled as we approach his stand. When he looked at Rai, however, his smile dropped and he frowned.

"Forgive me, but we're full."

"Excuse me?" Rai said, frowning and taking a look at the room "I see many vacant tables."

"Yes, well. They're all booked. Very sorry."

And then gestured for the next couple to come up.

What just happened? Were we just barred from a restaurant?

"How 'bout some Thai?" Rai asked, smiling at me, but I could see his fists in his pockets.

"We're going?" I asked him, frowning "You just accept that?"

"Let's get some Thai." He said, pulling me by the arm, but I pulled it out from his hand "Whitney, it's not worth the bother."

"You're a Cuervo." I said, and as I did, people stared, all whispering to each other "Oh..."

"Yeah..." He sighed "That's exactly why we're not getting' in. So let's just go. Look, I'm sorry you have to go through this, but I know this really cool Thai restaurant, and they'll make you a special order without spittin' in the food. I know the owner and worked in the kitchen, so they'll treat us like kings."

Well, that would be nice, right? To be treated as a special costumer.

"Hold that thought." I told Rai and started shoving people to get to the front of the line again "Excuse me. Sorry. Thank you."

"Wait, Whitney..." I heard Rai say far behind, but I was far from listening to reason.

"Excuse me. Hello." I greeted the skinny sour looking waiter, and his stare traveled all over me, with a sneer on his upper lip; oh no, he did not just do that! "I think there's a misunderstanding here."

"Madam, forgive me, but we are booked" He assured me, and turned his back to me; that does it!

"Hey, sorry, I'm still talking to you. My name's Whitney Gordon, my father is lawyer Tom Gordon. Yes, thought you knew him. You just stepped on a massive list of laws, and I'm sure you'd get fired just for that. Now, I believe you do have some table available for my date and I. If you refuse to serve us, however, I'll sue you in so many ways, from here to Monday, that when this shack closes for bankruptcy, the only work you'll get as a waiter, will be serving at the soup kitchen. Got that?"

"Well, huh... But of course, Miss Gordon. Please, Miss, and gentleman, follow me."

I know this isn't a way to get what you want. I mean, they would hold a grudge, and I did need a special request – also, I was physically shaking because of the confrontation. Either way, I knew the owner, he happened to be Dad's personal client, and if he didn't serve his daughter well, he knew he'd get into trouble. Law trouble, that is.

We got one of the best booths in the house, and the waiters were all very polite and nice, smiling and giving us advice about the food and all. They even asked Rai – Mr. Vega, that is – if he wanted some cocktail before dinner. He looked dumbfounded, 'cause he was only eighteen. That's how good my Dad is. Since he was driving, he said no. Well... I was kinda impressed by that.

"You didn't have to do that." He said when I came back from the bathroom after measuring my glucose level "No, let me rephrase that: you shouldn't have done that."

"It's done." I said, shrugging and taking a sip of water "Just read the menu."

"You know, the guy is the one who usually deals with that sort of problem," He said, and he looked amused.

"Yes, well... I don't expect for some guy to come, sweep me off my feet and save the day. Sorry to disappoint or crush your preconceptions, I'm not that kind of girl."

He said nothing and read the menu.

I asked for a special spaghetti and veal meatballs, with no sauce or salt. The meatballs should just be boiled and not stuffed. The waiter guaranteed me they would do it so."

"It really has to be no-salt." Rai intervened, and the man taking our order blinked at him "She's diabetic, so if it has one small hint of gravy or somethin' like that and she gets sick, I'm gonna wait for you outside and-"

"It's fine." I interrupted as Rai started his never-ending list of threads, in Spanish, what else... "Just no gravy or salt. And boiled broccoli. No salt or pepper either. Thank you. What's wrong with you? I told you a hundred times before: I know how to deal with this. So back off."

"He needed the encouragement." Rai assured me, his brown eyes were half closed like he was irritated; I couldn't care less "If he's stupid enough, he'll screw the entire order and you'll get sick."

"And I know what to do in case that happens." I sighed and took another sip of water "So let's just drop the diabetes talk. Tell me why did you want to go out with me, in the first place. I told you I would kiss you if that was what you wanted. So why?"