Black Orchid | BEOMKAI

Chapter 19

My foul mood followed me home like a shadow. Loosening my shirt buttons from the late summer heat, I came in through the front door and felt the air conditioning soothe my body but not my mind.

"Hey, baby bear!" my mother called out from a nearby living area, feet up on the couch, head hiding behind a lifestyle magazine. "How was work?"

I groaned out an exasperated noise as a reply and grabbed a two-pound bag of jellies from the kitchen.

"Don't spoil your appetite, Beom!" my mother called out from having heard the plastic rustle of the bag. "Dinner will be ready in an hour!"

"I won't be home for dinner tonight," I said, approaching the stairwell. "I'm going out."

"Oooh!" My mother dropped her magazine to beam a bright and hopeful smile. "Is it a date?!"

"No," I continued upstairs to my bedroom. "Just dinner with a colleague."

"Oh, that's nice, darling! I'm so happy you're making business connections at work. Your father will be prou-"

Her voice dropped off the further away I walked upstairs and once in my bedroom, I slumped onto my bed, loosened my buttons further, ripped open the bag of jellies, stuffed five of them into my mouth and happily sulked about my oncoming evening.

I pondered what clothes to wear. As much as it wasn't a date, I still didn't want to look sloppy– but I also didn't want to wear anything that would further entice Angela. Good looks are a curse, I swear.

After ten more self-pity jellies, I wandered over to my closet, greeted with a sea of dalmatian colors. Flicking through them, my gaze hardened as I came across my BUTTON t-shirt. I ripped it from the coat hanger and threw it into the corner, unfortunately missing the trash can. I decided on a baggy short-sleeved white shirt tucked into black jeans. Simple. Boring. Perfect. Angela sent me a message not long after.

"Hey, Beom! My address is 909 Azarado Boulevard. Sorry about you having to play chauffeur- I'll give you gas money! See you soon :)"

I didn't send a reply and at seven forty-five, I drove to the supplied address. I pulled up in front of a red-bricked, two-storied, slim-lined apartment with shared walls and a large chestnut tree standing proudly between the street and the house. Very middle-class. Very unassuming. Very mediocre. I thought Angela could at least afford a better place given the eye-watering salary she was paid by my father.

I soon saw her emerge from her front door and she rushed down the steps to my passenger side. "Hey, Beom!" Her voice projected like the harsh glare of a crystal wine glass in the morning sunlight; so overwhelming that I had to close my eyes.

"Hi," I grumbled and shifted into first gear before Angela's seatbelt was fastened. "So where are we going?"

"It's the place I told you about months ago!"

The place she told me about while I was obviously not listening.

Thankfully, Angela gave me directions and we ended up outside of a place that looked out of place in the middle of the corporate buildings that surrounded it. Stepping out into the evening air, the scent of the restaurant hit me harder than my father's smack across the face. The exterior walls were covered with installed flower pots and hanging flowers of all colors were in bloom. Climbing roses were intricately woven around the large wooden sign that read Gardenia above the entrance painted in shades of sunset pink.

"Isn't it gorgeous?!" Angela beamed next to me. "I've always wanted to check this place out!"

My astonished stare at the establishment shifted to annoyance. It just had to be a garden-themed restaurant, didn't it?