It was after eight when we finally entered the restaurant and approached the host. “Good evening. I called earlier,” I told him. “The name is Mann.”
“Good evening, sir.” The host’s gaze flicked from me to DB. “Welcome to the Rib Shack.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you prefer a booth or a table?”
“A booth if you have one available. And we’d like April, if she’s working tonight.”
“She is, and I’m sure I can find a booth in her section.” He pasted a professional smile on his face and picked up a couple of menus. “If you and your... friend will come this way?”
As we followed him, DB whispered from the corner of his mouth, “What’s up with him?”
“He thinks we’re a couple.”
“A couple of what?”
I stopped. “Seriously?”
His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and I realized he had been serious. “Is this how you’re treated when you go out with... you-know-who?” A scowl darkened his expression.