Come Fly With Me (27 page)

Allison
mutely
observed
Alex’s
easy
banter
as
he
stopped
here
and
there
to
chat
it
up
with
old
friends.
He
seemed
more
like
a
returning
football
hero
rather
than
the
product
of
a
misspent
youth
that
he
had
led
her
to
believe.
As
they
sat
down,
Alex
handed
her
a
menu
that
she
promptly
put
down,
unread.

“You
seem
popular,”
she
said,
eyes
narrowed.

“Ain’t
nuthin’
wrong
with
that,”
he
beamed.

“You
can
cut
it
out,
Alex.
You’re
some
Ivy-league
grown
millionaire
from
a
prominent
family—the
'misguided
youth
act'
is
disingenuous.”
She
folded
her
arms
across
her
chest.

“Breaking
out
the
ten-dollar
words—I
believe
I
am
being
scolded.
I
don’t
remember
it
being
this
much
fun,
though.”

“Alexander.”

“No,
no,
sorry,
Allison,
only
my
Mother
gets
to
pull
the
‘Alexander’
card.”

“Okay,
so
which
is
it?
Hero
or
hooligan?’

“It’s
a
bit
of
both.
I
believe
that
is
my
winning
combo.”

Allison
picked
up
her
menu
with
a
harrumph.
“You’re
very
difficult
to
get
a
straight
answer
out
of
you
know.
It
can
be
irritating.”

“Or
mysterious
and
fascinating—it’s
all
how
you
frame
it,”
Alex
said
easily.

Penelope,
Mary
Anne’s
daughter,
came
to
take
their
order.
“Alex,
so
glad
you
could
blow
into
town.
We
all
figured
you’d
be
back
for
your
Momma’s
party.
Whatcha
having?”

Penelope
was
very
plain
looking;
her
only
remarkable
feature
was
her
wavy,
almost
natural-looking
auburn
hair.
Her
boobs
acted
as
heat-seeking
missiles
on
a
mission
as
they
leaned
in
toward
Alex,
looking
for
a
comfortable
place
to
set
down.
Allison's
eyes
widened
in
amusement
at
the
pathetic,
high
school-like
gesture
and
quickly
raised
her
menu
higher
to
avoid
Alex’s
knowing
look.

He
winked
at
her
as
he
caught
her
expression.
“Ally,
honey,
would
you
like
to
give
your
order
to
Penelope?”

Penelope
turned
her
head
and
looked
at
Allison,
blinking
in
surprise
as
if
she'd
just
registered
her
presence.
“Oh,
brother,”
Allison
mumbled
under
her
breath.
“I’ll
have
the
western
omelet,
whole
wheat
toast,
and
a
large
coffee.”

“Excellent
choice,
I’ll
have
the
same.
Except
make
my
toast
white
instead
of
the
whole-wheat.”
Alex
smiled
at
Penelope.

She
leaned
in
to
take
his
menu
and
breathed
at
him,
“Maybe,
I’ll
see
you
after
the
party—Damon’s
band
is
playing
at
The
Beatnik.”
She
walked
off
toward
the
kitchen,
sashaying
for
all
it
was
worth.

“Yuck,
could
she
be
any
more
obvious?
Tell
me
you
used
to
date
her,”
Ally
scoffed.

“Everyone
used
to
date
her,”
Alex
laughed.

“Who’s
Damon?”
she
wanted
to
know.

“Penelope’s
brother.
He
has
a
decent
group,
but
he
drank
his
way
out
of
a
recording
contract.
I
hear
he’s
trying
to
get
back
on
his
feet
again.”

She
nodded
and
looked
around.
“This
place
is
pretty
full.
I
guess
the
economy
is
okay
in
Buckhead.”

“
MaryAnne’s
is
recession-proof.
The
food's
delicious
and
plentiful,
and
it’s
everyone’s
first
stop
when
they
come
back
to
town,”
he
said.

“I
guess
it’s
quicker
than
sending
out
smoke
signals.”

“Small-town
living
has
its
charms—as
long
as
you’re
not
the
one
living
there.”

She
nodded
once
again
and
smiled
as
Penelope
returned,
balancing
their
order.
She
hardly
spared
a
glance
at
Allison.

“She
doesn’t
seem
to
like
me,
not
that
I
care.”

“The
women
in
this
town
don’t
like
to
share,”
Alex
informed
her.

“I’m
not
your
girl.
Maybe
I
should
have
a
pin
made
up.”

Alex
put
down
his
fork
as
he
reached
for
his
steaming
mug
of
coffee.
He
lifted
it
in
salute,
a
cocksure
smile
on
his
face
and
said,
“Time
will
tell.”

A
couple
of
hours
later
Alexander
and
Allison
drove
down
an
endless
driveway
lined
with
copper-beech
trees
that
led
to
his
parents'
house.

“So,
tell
me,”
Allison
said
as
she
looked
around
in
awe
at
the
vast
estate;
she
half
expected
Clark
Gable
to
step
out
onto
the
front
veranda
to
greet
them.
“What
are
your
sisters’
names?”