The room was a lot bigger than I had remembered. But then again, I haven't been here in exactly two years. There were more tables added and the hall seemed to get redecorated. Gone was the preppy, nautical vibe of the room, and in its place were dark mahogany tables with candles on each table that gave the room a dimly lit glow.
I picked up my water and drank it, then crunched on the ice cube I had allowed to slip into my mouth as I set the cup down on the white table clothe clad table.
"Remember when you two used to work here?" My dad asked me and Chandler.
"Me and the boys used to pretend we were like Caddyshack." Chandler says.
"I thought you worked at the beach as a life guard?" Shawn asked me.
"I did. But I used to work here before going over to life guarding. I worked at the pool and the spa." I reply.
"Doing what?"
"Lifeguarding and I would help with the facials."
The waiter comes over and brings us all our food as the band on stage begins to play. It's usually an upbeat jazz band that plays and some people start to dance.
"I missed these steaks," Chandler says as he grabs the steak sauce and drowns his meat in it.
"What's so good about these steaks?" Chloe asks.
My dad stops cutting his steak and looks at Chloe. He lets go of his fork and knife and leans forward in his chair, causing the chair to slightly creak. I sip my water while I watch the scene unfold before me.
"What's so good about these steaks?" My dad repeats her question. "Chloe, I will tell you what's so good about these steaks. First of all, they're New York steaks. No steak compares to a Yorker steak. Second, the meat seems to melt into your mouth as you chew. Then comes the flavor, as it dances against your tongue. Chloe, have you ever had a steak that made your mouth turn into the ocean? I don't think so. You can't get a steak this good back in Massachusetts, oh, no."
"You get all poetic over a steak," Chandler begins, "but only write happy birthday Chan the Man in my cards?"
"That's because dad loves steaks, not you." I say.
Chandler, siting next to me, punches my arm. I retaliate and punch him in his arm and he gasps while placing his hand over the spot where I hit him.
"Honey, remember when Jasmine gave Chandler that black eye?" My mom says as she laughs.
"You did not give your brother a black eye!" Shawn says to me.
"Oh, she did." My mom replies as she places a hand at his shoulder for a brief moment. "Who's gonna tell the story?"
"I will." Chandler and I say at the same time.
"Bloody knuckles for it." Chandler says to me.
I hold my first out to him and he punches it, then holds his fist out and I punch it. We take turns before the loser caves in, which was me. Chandler smirks and takes a sip of his water before clearing his throat.
"Shawn, buckle up, this is a wild story." Chandler says. I lean back in my seat and cross my arms under my chest while grinning.
"This was about three summers ago, Jasmine was 16 and a sophomore and I was a junior in college. Our mom was teaching a summer course while our dad was out of town working on a case. So, I came home for the summer instead of staying at campus for baseball practice, and Jasmine and I were just at each other's throats every day." Chandler says.
"Just get to the point, you take too long," I say.
"Jasmine, so help me, I will fight you in the kitchen."
