“You banged her in her fancy red Porsche? Wow. That sounds difficult. Way to go!”
“Donnie! Be quiet. I told you, that’s not public information!”
“Oh, give me a break, John. No one cares about your little fling with Sara! She’s just some housewife who needed side-piece. You should be relishing in this! I know I would.”
John released a slow, laborious sigh as he checked his watch, then spun his coffee mug 180 degrees but didn’t pick it up to take a sip. “All I’m saying Donnie, is you never know who is listening, and I don’t want her husband finding out."
"Why? Is he intimidating?"
"Yes. No. Not exactly." John rubbed his temples. "He's a really nice guy, so I feel bad. I got caught in the moment. I know Sara wanted it, but that doesn’t make it right.” He reached in his pocket, removed his wallet, and threw two twenties down. “I gotta go.”
“Um, ok. I get it. Thanks for breakfast,” Donnie muttered.
John kept his eyes on the floor as he left and I watched him the whole time, seated in the catty-cornered booth before returning my attention to my meal, but when I looked up again, his friend Donnie was staring at me with a peculiar expression.
I tried to ignore him, but Donnie wasn't wrong to stare. I had been listening. However, what really struck me was John's reaction to Donnie’s accolades. John seemed like an alright guy. But his remorse didn’t excuse him for fucking someone else’s wife.
Anyway, I didn’t take a second look at the guy as I returned to my meal, but I could sense him periodically staring at me as I continued to eat. The cook had given me the exact, extremely-well-done hash browns I'd requested, and the eggs were neither runny nor dry. I was definitely going to come back here the next time I had a morning off or some free time.
So the meal was good, but my conscience was not doing well. John was right, you don't know when someone's eavesdropping, and I was now depressed by three degrees of separation.