When the server offered dessert, she felt guilty about saying yes, but this wasn't a date. She was still going to do his show, and he wasn't paying for the meal himself, so why not indulge in the seven-layer chocolate cake?

"Do you want to split it?" she asked.

"Sure."

"One cake, two forks," said the server. "Got it."

As the server walked away, Gertie pushed back her chair. "I shouldn't have had that third Coke. Back in a minute." She picked up her purse and headed to the restroom.

* * *

Ken wasn't sure if she didn't trust him to be alone with her purse, or if she was on the rag. Either way, half of her drink was left. Rich chocolate cake tended to make you thirsty. She might finish it off.

He glanced around. There were other diners, but none of them were at adjacent tables, and none of them were looking at him. The restaurant had a nice dim atmosphere. He could empty the tiny vial into her drink in two seconds. Everybody seemed immersed in their meals and conversations.

He took the vial out of his pocket. Keeping it hidden under the table, he twisted off the lid.

A busboy walked over to the booth in front of theirs and began to pick up dishes and put them in his plastic tub.

Damn it.

The busboy wasn't looking at him.

If he asked Vivian what she thought he should do, she would lose her shit over the idea of him even considering trying to drug Gertie's drink when somebody was standing right there. But Vivian had no emotional investment in Gertie's fate. She didn't care what happened. It would destroy Ken to have wasted an evening in this stupid restaurant when he could've been sitting in the basement.

If the busboy happened to glance over, Ken was utterly screwed. There was no alternate explanation except that he was trying to slip drugs into Gertie's drink.

It was too risky.

If he got caught, he'd spend the rest of his life in prison, cursing the moment of sheer stupidity when he broke the very smart rule that he and Vivian had set.

Let her go.

Nobody was watching him.

He quickly poured the contents of the vial into his mouth.

Nobody noticed.

He reached across the table, picked up Gertie's glass, and pretended to take a drink while letting the clear liquid run out of his mouth into her Diet Coke. He set the glass back.

Nobody noticed that, either. If they had, they'd just have thought he was taking a drink of her soda. No big deal. Maybe they were married and didn't have beverage boundaries.

He picked up his glass of water, took a drink, swished it around, and spat it back. Then did it once more.

Success!

* * *

It's going fine, Gertie texted as she sat on the toilet. About to have dessert. He's not a weirdo or anything.