I can’t help but react to Donna’s body pressed up against mine, and her intoxicating smell in my nose, but I can feel her fiancé’s eyes on me as she hugs me. It’s beyond awkward.
“Bradley,” she says, turning to him. “This is Vincent, my mechanic. He’s doing such a great job on your car that I thought I’d invite him for dinner!”
What. The. f**k?
Bradley looks at her, looks at me, then looks back at her. I can tell he wants to say something, but he manages to put on a polite face and force an unconvincing smile.
“Well, wasn’t that nice of you?” he says condescendingly. He turns to me. “You picked a good night for it. We’re having foie gras, caviar and white asparagus. Do you like foie gras – what did you say your name was again?”
“Vincent,” I tell him. “And I don’t know. Never had it.”
