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@GRAYLINGGOSSIP: Ahhhhhh! Trainspotting alert!

Kai and Ster are at Mantel tonight with GoGo Heller, Gabrielle Rose, and Sandy/Jamie Covelli!

An eagle-eyed Grayling in South Beach spotted the couples being let in a back door at the $$$$$ resto.

There’s a six-month wait for a ressie, but we’re hearing that Sterling bought the whole place out for the night! Wonder if it’s a special occasion???

***

“Gabi,” Sterling says slowly, “is that what I think it is?”

Gabi’s upturned blue-green eyes button in an expression of sheer joy.

In the instant before she emits an excited shriek, you know exactly what Sterling noticed.

There’s a diamond on her ring finger big enough to put someone’s eye out, set on a double infinity band of blinding platinum.

It’s twinkling and sparkling in the candlelit dining room.

You can’t believe you missed it when Gabi hugged you.

The thing could be seen from space, probably .

“Eee!” she squeals, wiggling her tiny, pretty fingers, which are tipped in petal-pink varnish. “Surprise!”

To her side, Jamie yelps in delighted feminine solidarity. She and Sandy are seated in the middle section of the U-shaped booth, which is probably an eight-top, but is a tight fit for three professional football players and their dates.

Sterling immediately jumps up and folds Gabi in an embrace, but you can’t help staring at GoGo.

Across the booth, he’s looking awfully smug.

One long arm is draped across the back of the banquette, and the other is twirling his clean fork.

His smirk is enormous. He’s dressed up for the occasion, his blond hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail.

It’s dark in the restaurant, but you can’t help but notice that his pupils are blown black, and he’s rocking his knee restlessly.

“Where’s the congrats, bro?” He catches your eyes and inclines his chin.

You force yourself to smile. To go around and kiss Gabi’s cheek, to pat GoGo’s shoulder.

“I’m so happy for you guys,” you hear yourself say. “What’s it been? Four months?”

“Three,” Gabi blushes. “But when you know, you know. Right?”

“Huge props,” Sandy enthuses. “Marriage is the best. Talk about great news!”

“Garcon!” GoGo calls, putting his hands to his mouth like a megaphone. The waiter is there immediately; you guys are, after all, the only patrons in the place. “Let’s get some bubbles in here! A couple bottles of the best you have, por favor.”

“You’re mixing languages,” Gabi says indulgently, leaning into her fiancé.

It occurs to you that’s not the only thing he’s mixing—you’d bet money he’s coked-out—but you merely smile tightly and look at the menu.

You’ve already made your mind up, but you want somewhere to look except at Gabi’s breasts, which are threatening to spill out of the tiny mini-dress she’s poured into.

“Aren’t you cold, Gab?” Sterling asks, concerned. Seems like you two are reading each other’s minds tonight. “It’s only about forty-five out. Did you bring a coat?”

She rolls her eyes. “I almost wore something different, but GoGo requested this dress. He bought it for me, you know. Can you imagine that he’s got a shopper on retainer at Neiman Marcus? I’ve never met a guy with such amazing style.”

“Gotta show my baby off,” GoGo simpers, leaning down for a kiss .

Jamie coos at them and gazes at Sandy like, isn’t it the sweetest?

“I let Jamie pick my clothes out,” Sandy shrugs.

The appetizers haven’t even come yet, but you can feel your gorge rising in your gullet like you’ve eaten something rank.

It’s not Gabi’s near-nakedness—you can appreciate a beautiful woman as well as anyone else—and it’s not the blatant displays of flamboyant heterosexuality being shoved down your throat.

It’s not even the mere fact of GoGo’s proximity, which is always annoying, but normally not noxious.

You can’t put your finger on what’s grossing you out so much about the situation, but you know that it’s distinctly unpleasant.

You hadn’t particularly wanted to come tonight, but Gabi begged Sterling, and Sterling asked you nicely.

Mantel isn’t your kind of place. It’s expensive for the sake of being expensive, gold-leaf-shards-in-the-cocktails and shaved-truffle-on-everything kinda bougie. They have a caviar flight on the menu, but not a Michelin star to be found. It’s all flash for flash’s sake. Showboat-y.

No wonder GoGo chose it.

You understand why Sterling can’t go out to dinner in a crowded restaurant, but you kind of long for the buffer of other patrons’ laughter and conversations.

Some background noise. The waitstaff is lingering a little too close, and the gilded wallpaper feels like it’s closing in on you.

For the first time in your life, you wish you smoked so that you could excuse yourself for a cig break.

The sommelier brings a pair of chilled bottles and pours six flutes ceremoniously. You all toast to the future Mister and Missus Heller.

“So, Kai!” Gabi starts cheerfully. “Week 14, Monday Night Football. The Horns. What are we thinking?”

GoGo scoffs wetly. “Come the fuck on, babe. I told you it’s not even a question. We’ve lost two games; they’ve lost five. Why are we even having this conversation?” His left arm is around her waist, and he squeezes her as if to punctuate the thought.

She strokes his shoulder fondly. “I know what you think; I want to hear Kai’s opinion.”

“Is mine not good enough?”

You can’t tell if he’s joking or not. You clear your throat tactfully and decide to answer the question that was asked of you.

“Well, I kind of feel like records aren’t everything at this point,” you say.

“The Horns are second in their division and they’ve had a nasty-strong schedule.

They’ve got everything to lose and everything to gain in the next month, so they’re gonna come out swinging.

They’re riding a three-game winning streak since their bye-week.

And we’re playing them in Cali. I don’t know.

I always want to assume we’re gonna win, but it makes me nervous. ”

“That’s kind of a pussy statement,” GoGo announces abruptly.

You look up. “Excuse me?”

“Where’s your confidence, bro? Winners don’t say maybe. They don’t fuckin’...”

Nobody finds out what else winners don’t do, because you all are saved by the arrival of the apps.

You stab a Campari tomato quarter with your fork’s tines harder than strictly necessary, making it explode seedy red guts all over your black shirt.

Sterling passes you his napkin, and a reproachful look.

There are two waiters on you immediately, offering additional napkins and seltzer to dab at the stain. You wave them away irritably.

“Where do you guys think the wedding will be?” Sterling asks. Notably, he hasn’t touched his own starter.

“Oh, not until the season is over, obviously,” Gabi says.

She hasn’t ordered an appetizer, but plucks a rock shrimp off GoGo’s plate.

“Somewhere that it’s not disgusting in the summer.

Before OTAs, so we have time for a honeymoon.

I’ve heard that Colorado is gorgeous. I’d love to get married on a ranch with the mountains in the background of all the pictures. ” She gazes dreamily at GoGo .

“Oh my gosh, yes! ” Jamie sighs. “I’ve seen those TikToks! With a formal ceremony gown…”

“...and the rubber boots!” Gabi finishes.

“Yeah, that sounds gorgeous, baby, but who wants to risk stepping in cow shit on their wedding day?” He frowns. “I say we get married in a church, like normal people.”

“Well, it’s not like either of us is religious,” Gabi points out. “But we still have lots of time to decide. There’s no pressure.”

“Of course not,” Sterling murmurs, taking a deep drink from his champagne flute.

You force yourself to look away from the Gabi-and-GoGo trainwreck and turn your attention to the other couple at the table.

Sandy looks as fine as ever—the man can rock a tailored jacket like nobody else—but also tired.

He’s not ignoring anybody, but neither is he driving any conversation.

His shoulder is wearing him down, you know, and there’s still five games of regulation left.

Not to mention the post-season which is looking more and more like a guarantee.

Jamie’s fully engaged in socializing, but she’s also checking in on her man frequently, rubbing his arm and whispering in his ear.

You’ve always liked Jamie. She’s a good woman, and she’s good for Sandy .

GoGo’s still twitchy when the entrées come, his knee jogging hard enough beneath the table that it occasionally jolts all your glasses.

Ster looks pissed, but Gabi acts completely oblivious, steadying her water like it didn’t just splash on her bare thigh.

You suck it up through dinner, your duck breast sticking dry in your throat despite the fact that it’s actually cooked expertly.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough torture for one night, the girls decide that they want dessert.

Sterling asks you if you want to split something, and you’re so focused on not losing your cool that you don’t hear him the first three times he tries to get your attention.

You could normally have single-handedly wolfed down three plates of the dinky little madeleine cookies dipped in white chocolate with matcha, saffron, macadamia nuts, and lime zest, but you nibble one without tasting it and let Sterling have the rest. While the waiter is preparing the bill for Sterling, GoGo abruptly adjourns to the bathroom and is gone for far longer than should be necessary.

It actually gets to the point where the table is cleared and everyone is awkwardly trying to avoid mentioning it before he deigns to return, bouncing on his heels and clapping his hands with an abundance of restless energy.