American Babe Read Online Free Page B

snack but the only other beverage options were Diet Coke, lemonade, milk (from a cow not an almond or a soy or a rice or even a hemp), and . . . hold on tight for this . . . Yoo-hoo.
    â€œYeah, Dad lives out in Virginia,” Knox told me. “He calls a couple times a year. He’s a salesman of some kind or a recruiter maybe? We don’t really know. But he travels a lot. Not to Maryland, though.”
    â€œThat’s so douchey,” I said.
    â€œWe think so, too,” he said.
    â€œOkay!” I blurted, trying to change the subject as quickly as possible. “So it looks like I’m the babysitter tonight because yours died on the way here or something.”
    Cara offered a fake smile. “Looks like it,” she said, and went up to her room.
    â€œTell me, what exactly do babysitters do?”
    â€œMake or take us to dinner,” Knox told me.
    â€œLet’s go out,” I suggested. “I don’t make dinner. Only smoothies.”
    â€œPerfect. I could use a going-out moment tonight anyways.” Knox said this with the slightest sparkle in his eye.I knew that look: he had a new piece to wear, and tonight would be its inaugural wearing.
    Cara, when we coaxed her from her room, was super stoked that my rental was a black Escalade with tints. Almost too stoked. It did, however, feel gratifying to see her smile genuinely for the first time since meeting her. I still thought she was acting like a twat, though. According to some obscure sibling law, it was her night to pick the restaurant, so we went to a place called Ledo Pizza, which sells pizza that’s cut in small squares, not slices. Pizza’s not chic in the first place, but square pizza? I dreaded the meal from the moment she said the name of the restaurant as we all got in the car, but it was my first night so I wasn’t going to get into a fight with her about my dietary restrictions. The point was: we were doing stuff together. Cute.
    â€œSounds great!” I lied. “You just let me know how to get there. Also, I’m gonna smoke because you guys aren’t babies so it’s safe.” I started the car, backed out of that cozy little driveway, lit a Marlboro Light, and we were off. Babe and her first first cousins.
    Ledo’s was bright as fuck, Jesus. And I don’t mean the lighting, I just mean the color choices. The signage and seating were all red and assaulting to the eyes—sunglasses went on immediately. Once seated—Knox and myself on one side of the table, Cara on the other—a rotund waiterwho looked a bit like the clock from Beauty and the Beast came over with some menus. Cara immediately pulled out her phone, put headphones in, and started texting or doing Facebook or whatever suburban teens do.
    â€œHow y’all doin’? I’m Jimmy, and I’ll be servin’ you guys tonight.”
    We all looked at him and smiled.
    â€œY’all know what y’all wanna drink?” he asked, pulling out his little pad of paper. I’d forgotten about those little pads. In LA waiters memorize your orders because they’re used to memorizing lines for auditions they’ll never book.
    â€œCoke, please,” Cara and Knox responded in unison, not looking up.
    â€œRegular Coke?” I asked them.
    â€œYep,” they said, also together.
    This may have been the first time I’ve seen someone drink a full-strength, full-calorie Coca-Cola.
    â€œTwo Cokes, got it. And how ’bout for you, ma’am?”
    â€œI’ll have a sparkling water, please.”
    â€œClub soda all right?”
    â€œIf you must,” I conceded.
    â€œGreat.”
    â€œWith lemon.”
    â€œYou got it. I’ll give y’all a minute and be back for your food order.”
    Jimmy made his way back toward the kitchen. He was wearing orthopedic sneakers of some kind that were almost chic in a normcore way. Wait, I hated normcore. Was this