Now he and Micki, along with Yank and a curly-haired cream puff of a dog walked into the restaurant. "Morgan party," Yank said to the hostess, using his gruffest, meanest voice.
The young woman's gaze darted from Micki and Damian to Yank and then lower to his pet. "I'm sorry, Mr. Morgan, but there are no dogs allowed. The health code prohibits it," she explained.
"I may be going blind but I ain't deaf and I don't really think you just told me I can't bring my Seeing Eye dog into this establishment."
Micki stifled a groan.
The hostess peered down at the unkempt dog who resembled a mop more than a well-trained assistant "Oh," she said, skeptically.
Seeing as how the thing kept pulling against his leash in a blatant attempt to take off at a run, Damian could understand the girl's confusion. "How about you talk to your manager and see if you could make an exception for the gentleman and his…er…guide dog," he suggested.
She nodded, and headed down a hallway, presumably to a back office.
Damian bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "So now the poodle's your guide dog?" he asked.
"It's not a poodle, it's a Labradoodle," Micki replied to Damian before turning to her uncle. "Why couldn't you leave Noodle home?"
"Noodle the Labradoodle?" Damian asked in disbelief.
"Don't you dare make fun of this girl. At least she's stood by me."
"Veiled reference to Lola," Micki whispered in Damian's ear.
"But why didn't you just leave her home?"
"Because she's my date." Yank's surly tone was obviously meant to warn Micki to back off and leave him alone. If Damian was a betting man, he'd wager she'd do neither.
Micki burst out laughing. "Do you really think Lola's going to be jealous of a dog? And do you really think a dog is going to keep you warm at night? Or are you counting on your stubborn streak to do it instead?"
“Missy, I'm still older than you and I know what's best."
"Then why are you still alone?'
"Okay, time out," Damian said, stepping between Yank and Micki. "Before one of you says something you'll regret."
At that moment, the hostess returned and told them, "The manager's willing to make an exception for you, Mr. Morgan, but you need to keep the dog in the private room."
"It's discrimination, that's what this is," Yank muttered.
"He'll keep the dog out of sight and thank you," Micki said to the other woman.
She nodded and led them the long way around the restaurant to the back room they'd rented for the event.
Yank went first and Damian followed behind, surprised when Micki reached back and grabbed his hand, pulling him alongside her.
"He's so tense about seeing Lola and Spencer Atkins together that he's close to insane." Micki gestured to her uncle and the dog.
"I can't imagine what he's going through, what with his eyesight deteriorating and the woman he loves having moved on."
"With his best friend."
Damian shook his head in sympathy. He glanced at Micki and realized that she'd been supporting him while her own situation wasn't exactly calm and quiet.
"I didn't realize about Yank's eyes or how much Lola's desertion has hurt him. You've been going through a lot of craziness yourself."
Micki paused outside the private party room. "Uncle Yank all but pushed Lola out.If he'd just given her an inkling about his real feelings instead of treating her like his slave and servant…"
"They have an odd history," Damian said.
"Amen."
"But between his health and the PR agency, you've been dealing with a lot." He lowered his head. "And then Carter spiked your drink, Yank pushed you off on me and sent you to the island-"
"We slept together, came home and went our separate ways and then you showed up at my office to tell me another woman might be carrying your child. Does that about sum it up?”
He waited for her voice to turn from matter-of-fact to bitingly sarcastic but it didn't happen. Instead she laid out the facts and started to laugh.
"Just what's so funny?" he asked
"My soap opera of a life."
"I'm sorry for adding to the list."
Micki shook her head, an unbelievable smile on her tips. "Don't be. If you hadn't come around, I might be bored."
The sound of raised voices traveled from the room next door. "Something tells me being bored wouldn't be a remote possibility. Let's see what's going on"
Micki shot around him and he followed her into the room. Her uncle stood on a chair surrounded by decorations the family had strung around the room. Paper streamers were taped onto the ceiling, green and white helium balloons floated at will, and a store-bought Happy Birthday sign dangled precariously from the wall.
Damian wanted to ask Micki about the significance of such obviously childlike party symbols, but Yank was pontificating from on high. Loudly.
"…And since it's my birthday-and I thank you all very much for coming-I thought I got to decide who I wanted here. And I can tell you right now, I don't want to party with the lovebirds." Yank pointed first to Lola, then to Spencer Atkins, who were on separate sides of the room, whether out of deference to Yank's feelings or pure irony.
Yank's always wiry hair stood on end and his face flushed red with pure jealousy. Damian leveled a sidelong glance at Micki. He couldn't be responsible for his actions either if she walked into a party with another man-a notion that rattled the hell out of him.
Suddenly Yank, who was still ranting from his perch in the center of the room, lost his balance. Without warning, he wobbled, pitched to one side and fell before anyone could help him.
"Uncle Yank.'" All three of his nieces ran to the older man's side, but Lola got there first "You frustrating, crotchety, old coot!" she yelled, bending down at his side. "Where does it hurt?" She spread her hands all over him, her concern and love so real even Damian could feel it.
"My leg," he muttered and rubbed a place high on his hip.
Damian winced. "Somebody call for an ambulance," he yelled to the waiters nearby.
Yank was still yelling at Lola to get the hell away and let him be humiliated in peace.
Uncomfortable making them a spectacle, Damian stepped back.
Micki slipped her hand into his. "There's not much we can do. The hostess already called 911," she said.
"I ain't going in an ambulance," Yank blustered.
Noodle woofed in agreement and licked Yank's face, the dog's concern obvious.
Spencer Atkins stormed over to his best friend. The two men couldn't be more different in looks, Yank in his button-down Hawaiian shirt and Atkins in his double-breasted suit. "Shut the hell up, will you? Your mouth is what got you into trouble in the first place."
Yank scowled at his friend. "You stole my woman-"
“I was never yours to begin with. You didn't want me," Lola said, tears streaming down her cheeks and causing her makeup to run.
If she cared about that or her hair, which had fallen from its bun, or the fact that her blouse had pulled loose from the back of her skirt, she didn't show it. All her concern was lavished on the man lying on the floor.
"I wonder if he'll come around now," Micki whispered. "I mean it feels like his last chance. If he pushes Lola away this time, it's probably for good."
The overwhelming emotion of her family situation struck Damian hard. "Hopefully this'll smarten him up. It can happen to even the dumbest jock," he said, hoping to lighten the mood.
She laughed and hiccupped at the same time.
"Coming through." The paramedics came in and the next few minutes passed in a blur as they carefully loaded the older man onto the stretcher.
"Come on. I'll drive you and Sophie to the hospital." Damian tugged on her hand.
Annabelle and Vaughn were already halfway out the door. Micki relayed the offer to Sophie, who held a squirming Noodle in her arms, and they all headed for the exit.
At the door, Micki turned back to the dwindling crowd. "Happy birthday, Uncle Yank," she said to the almost empty room.