"Hmmm..." Erica moaned, tasting her salad, "arugula." Her eyes, blue today, swept from the head of the table to the end, taking in the difference between
meals. They narrowed at Troy 's. "Why
do you get Italian and he gets a protein smoothie?" The temperature in the
room dropped a good ten degrees from the chill in her voice alone. He'd loved his
grandmother dearly, both admiring and fearing the way she'd ruled her home. She
couldn't hold a candle to Erica. Troy
"He's on a diet; I'm not."
stated the obvious, on the defensive. Troy
"Why aren't you?" Erica retorted, icy tones turning to acid.
The demurely lowered lashes and pretty pout probably turned straight men to putty.
fooled for an instant. Like most dangerous creatures, the one sitting at his
table appeared deceptively benign. "Isn't it you who told me the best way
to capture an event is to experience it for yourself?" she purred. Troy
Damn. He hated having his own words used against him. A battle of wills engaged. He deliberately raised a sizable forkful of pasta to his lips, chewing with gusto.
Joey sat quietly sipping his protein shake, attention bouncing from one antagonist to the other, reminding
of a spectator at Troy Wimbledon. If it were him, he'd be
running by now. "I don't see why I have to endure... I mean, experience a
diet. I'm sure Joey will explain intimately what it feels like,"
answered weakly. "Won't you, Joey?" Troy