Maggie, blatant flame-breathing bitch dragon, responded, "I'm going to the ladies room."
"You're acting as if you're upset."
"Really?" Wonder why? "You're acting like a husband." Take that!
"Of forty years." Maggie eschewed dramatic public displays. But, she was making one. The Xers halted conversation, as if waiting for another scene from Maggie's Reality Show: Disasters in Dating. Her glower encouraged them to mind their own business.
They promptly started talking and their butter knives clinked against china.
Bruce took a deep breath while Maggie stalked toward the facilities.
Annie jumped out of her way.
"Annie, I have to leave," Maggie tossed back. "Box my food." She stopped and informed the server, "I'll pick it up at the hostess's stand." Then, countless decibels higher, "No, cancel that. Box it for him."
Next, she marched back to the table and leaned over Bruce. There, she pressed close to him, hoping she sucked up all his available oxygen. She wanted his senses singed raw.
She grew so close to Bruce, her swinging necklace nearly lassoed his ear. She bent further. Her left breast caressed his cheek. Maggie wanted him to smell her perfume. She wanted him to remember this moment. She wanted him to remember something about her other than her meatloaf.
"Thanks for dinner, Big Red." She stood straight and tall.
He gaped. Annie's eyes grew bigger than the circumference of the tray on which she'd brought their entrees.
There was a sudden hush at the Xers' table. Staring them down with disdain, Maggie felt slightly elated. The women's eyes cast her cheery rays conveying, Yeah, get him. Conversely, the guy's eyes read, cleaning it up, Poor guy.
She made sure Bruce saw her look toward the entry door and then down at her watch before she leaned near him once more and whispered, "Errands call."
Perfect. He'd think her exit coincided with Thomas Rex's departure, which was pure coincidence.
Oh, my gosh! She'd acted as deceitful as the late Daniel Duncan. Still, she'd saved face. She'd dumped Bruce before he dumped her.