“Suit yourself,” Mom said as she climbed into the car, which I noticed was a silver Honda sedan. Just like Dad’s car back home. What a surprise. I’d have thought since he was on vacation, he’d go crazy and rent a red Honda. Nope.

“I think I feel like driving the Woody tonight,” Spiridon said. The garage door was already open. “Do you mind, Christos?”

“Not at all,” he said.

The three of us climbed into the classic car. Yeah, we were a million times cooler than my parents.

The engine of the 1949 Plymouth station wagon purred as it pulled out of the garage. Spiridon stopped the car beside my parents’ Honda. My dad rolled the window down and Spiridon asked, “Do you know where we’re going?”

“I’ll follow you,” Dad answered.

Didn’t he know how to use the GPS? I’d seen it in their car earlier. Oh wait, we were talking about my dad. Of course not.

“Don’t go too fast,” my dad said nervously. “I adhere to the speed limit.”

“Don’t worry, Bill,” Spiridon smiled, “I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.”

I think Spiridon was being too optimistic. When it came to most things, my parents were already totally lost.

SAMANTHA

“This sexy beast can only be your mother,” Romeo said as he shook my mom’s hand in the lobby of the Cheesecake factory.

Romeo actually lifted my mom’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. She tugged her hand away with a hint of disgust before he was finished, surprising Romeo.

“I do have that affect on the ladies,” Romeo winked at her.

My mom scowled at him. I’m sure she was confused. The only romance in her life came from my dad. He was as spontaneous with his romantic gestures as he was with his choice of rental cars.

Kamiko, Madison and Jake were also here. With Spiridon and Christos at my side, that made it seven on two against my parents.

I had high hopes for the evening.

The restaurant was packed, so we had to wait awhile for our table. Madison cornered my parents and asked them a million questions about Washington D.C. I think she was trying to keep them occupied. She understood. She was my own personal emotional bodyguard.

When we were finally seated and the waiter took our drink order, I wasn’t surprised that Christos ordered a double bourbon. With my parents in town, I considered joining him. But I decided I needed to be alert, in case my parents tried to launch a sneak attack. For all I knew they’d blindfold me and throw me in a packing crate the first chance they got so they could ship me back to D.C.

But I could tell something was bothering Christos more than usual. The obvious answer was my parents, but I suspected it was something else. I leaned over and whispered to Christos, “Who called earlier? Is it something I should be worrying about?”

“No, agápi mou. It’s fine,” he smiled.

“You sure?”

“You let me worry about it. Enjoy yourself.”

“Whatever it is, it can’t be any worse news than my parents arriving out of nowhere,” I groaned.

Christos chuckled. “True that.” He rested his hand on my knee under the table and looked me in the eyes.

I couldn’t get over how handsome Christos was, even in the middle of his bourbon buzz. His face was so relaxed and dreamy, I wanted nothing more than to fall into his enchanting eyes right at the dinner table. So what if my parents might see? I eyed Christos’ luscious mouth and nibbled on my lower lip. His lips spread in a wide smile over his immaculate white teeth. His legendary dimples appeared. I teased my upper lip with my tongue and giggled softly. I was going to lick those dimples of his, no matter who was watching. I leaned forward, about to—

“Sam?” my mom blurted. “What are you going to eat?”

Dimples? I jolted out of fantasyland and frowned. No, I think my mom meant for dinner. Embarrassment and irritation crackled inside my chest.

My mom’s voice was her special gift. Children everywhere clamored for my mom to read them bedtime stories and soothe their nighttime fears with that voice of hers. No, seriously. My mom was world famous for her bedside manner. She taught sold-out seminars in mothering to giant auditoriums packed full of people. Seriously.

Not.

The waiter was standing at the table with his notepad in hand, waiting to take my order. I hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. I think Christos had hypnotized me with his beautiful blues. Time had slid right by. That was easy to do with Christos by my side.

The waiter arched an expectant eyebrow at me.

I glanced down at the menu, “Oh, um, I’ll have the Asian Chicken Salad?”

“Excellent,” the waiter said, “and for you sir?” he asked Christos.

“I’ll have crab cakes for an appetizer and the grilled rib-eye with mashed potatoes and gravy.”

How was it that Christos could eat like a horse and never have an ounce of body fat? It was ridiculous. Maybe all the drinking kept him slim? No, probably not. It had to be all the sex we had. But that was on hold until Mom and Dad were gone. Sigh.

Sometime later, after the waiter had dropped off everyone’s entrees and people were eating and chatting, Romeo said to Kamiko, loud enough for the whole table to hear, “Our waiter sure is hot. Did you see the bulge in the front of his pants?”

Kamiko frowned, “Romeo! Do you always have dick on the brain?”

Romeo grinned, “Yes. I like them on the brain and anyplace else I can fit them.”

“Them? As in, plural?” Madison asked.

“As in, a plethora,” Romeo smiled, “A cornucopia.”

Madison giggled. Jake and Spiridon chuckled. Christos smiled while he chewed.

My parents looked shocked. They weren’t used to this sort of talk, especially not at the dinner table. It had become normal to me. Maybe my parents needed a good old dose of Samantha’s San Diego. I wasn’t their little girl anymore. I was tired of trying to be someone I wasn’t, just to suit them. I needed to live my life my own way, not theirs. If they didn’t like my friends, they could suck it.

“I think Romeo needs a dick intervention,” Kamiko joked.

“I assure you, Kamiko,” Romeo said, “I’ll never kick the dick. I’m a regular Dickaholic, darling. You’ll never catch me at an Alcoholdicks Anonymous meeting. Not that I’m suggesting you frequent such meetings. I know how much you hate the flesh pistols.”

Christos raised his eyebrows, amused.

“Aren’t the Flesh Pistols a band?” Madison asked. “Weren’t they, like, a punk band from the U.K.?”

“That’s The Sex Pistols, darling,” Romeo corrected.

“The Who?” Kamiko asked.

Romeo shook his head. “No, that’s Roger Daltry and Pete Townshend. I’m talking about Johnny Rotten? Sid Vicious? You have heard of them, haven’t you Kamiko?” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Kamiko shook her heard vigorously. “What the hell are you talking about?” She was totally frazzled.

My parents were even more lost. They exchanged a perplexed glance like they’d woken up in an insane asylum.

“I know, I know, Kamiko,” Romeo sighed. “If it’s not on Cartoon Network, you have no idea what I’m talking about. How about—” Romeo lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and leaned over to Kamiko’s ear, “Locally grown…Butter Lettuce…”

Kamiko’s eyes lit up like fireworks and she beamed a smile. “Butter Lettuce party!!!”

Romeo sighed and hung his head. “I swear, Kamiko, you can’t be more than nine years old.”

“What the hell are you guys talking about,” Spiridon laughed. Even he was lost now, but he wasn’t horrified like my parents.

“It’s a line from Bravest Warriors,” Romeo groaned. “A cartoon.” He said the word ‘cartoon’ like it was offensive.

Kamiko clapped her hands merrily. “I totally forgot! There’s a new episode of Bravest Warriors going up on YouTube tonight! I can’t wait to watch it when I get home!”