Fireworks 1 and 2

Chapter Thirty-Three

    "I've heard about this place," Mia said as she walked alongside Drake, her arm linked with his. A glossy, tall glass building loomed over them, stretching into the Los Angeles night sky. She looked in the windows of the building, saw diners eating and conversing.

    Chubbs and Spoons spoke softly behind them.

    Drake followed her gaze. "Their food is excellent," he told her, pinching the fingers of his free hand together. "But we're not eating in there."

    "Where are we eating, then?"

    He led them into the restaurant and spoke in low tones to the maitre'd. The tall slender man found someone to cover his post and grabbed two menus while he led Drake and his guests through the restaurant, past whispering patrons, and towards an area that resembled a larger version of the lobby. He stopped in front of a pair of elevators and punched the Up button.

    Mia looked at Drake in askance, but he stared straight ahead.

    They piled onto the elevator. The elevator climbed, seemingly forever. When the doors opened, she was staring out into the night sky. The maitre'd led them out of the elevator and across the roof to where an elegant, intimate table had been set up. Lights and candles adorned the area. The maitre'd set the menus on the table.

    "Did you...did you have them set this up, or does the roof always look like this?"

    "This was set up at Drake's request," the maitre'd stated while starting to pull a chair out for her.

    Drake lifted a hand and touched the man's arm. "I got that. You don't have to worry about that, but thank you." He turned and spoke to Chubbs and Spoons.

    The two men nodded in unison.

    "I just need some time for us to decide what we're going to order," Drake said, pulling out the chair for Mia and indicating for her to sit. Once she was seated, he pushed her seat back in.

    "Are they going to be able to sit and eat too?" Mia asked, twisting around in her chair and looking at Chubbs and Spoons.

    "I'll make sure they get a chance to eat," Drake said, adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket. He seated himself and smoothed down his dress shirt.

    She turned back around in her chair and looked over the menu. Italian dishes were listed on the glossy inside section of the folding menu. She lifted her eyes and found Drake staring at her. "What? Can't decide on what you want?"

    His eyes lowered. "It's not that. I know exactly what I want," he said softly.

    She narrowed her eyes at him.

    He bit his lower lip, trying to hide a smile. "Do you know what you want?"

    "I know exactly what I want," she said slowly.

    He lifted a hand and signaled to the maitre'd.

    The maitre'd returned. "Were you ready to order?"

    "I will have my usual, the Alfredo. My lovely date will have..." He gestured for Mia to speak.

    "The lasagna," she finished, handing the maitre'd the menu without breaking eye contact with Drake.

    "And your finest champagne," he added, smiling at her as he handed his menu over to the maitre'd.

    The maitre'd returned to the elevator.

    She shook her head at Drake. "What game are you playing?" she asked him.

    "I'm not playing any games," he told her.

    "Liar." She stood from her chair and strode away from him, headed over to the edge of the roof, which was bordered by a waist-high wall with a railing on top of it. She rested her elbows on top of the railing and tried not to feel overwhelmed at the breathtaking view of Los Angeles.

    Drake came to stand beside her. "That's a pretty strong accusation."

    She continued to stare across the city. "You dress up. You bring me here. To this amazing restaurant with a gorgeous view of the city. For what?"

    "For a lot of reasons," he said, grabbing onto the railing. "Showing you appreciation for being willing to help me with this album. Coming out here. I also wanted to talk to you about the vision that I had for this album."

    "Those are the only two reasons you did this?" she asked him, finally looking at him.

    He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his head. "What am I supposed to say?"

    "The truth."

    "The truth..." He stared out over the railing. "The truth is, maybe I wanted to impress you a little bit."

    "What is the point in impressing me?" she questioned. "We're keeping things professional. Your success as an entertainer impresses me. The fanbase you've succeeded in building up, that impresses me. You don't...you don't have to do things like this."

    "But why can't I?"

    She furrowed her eyebrows at him. "Why do it if you don't have to?"

    "Maybe because I want to," he said, his voice taking on a stubborn edge.

    "We could have done this at the house," she insisted.

    "Fine. I won't do this again." He rested his elbows on the top of the railing and clasped his hands together.

    She sighed. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful."

    "What do you mean to sound like?"

    "Doing things like this...I just feel like it confuses things," she said. "I don't want the lines to be blurred. We're working together. And we're keeping it at that. But if you're...taking me to restaurants like this, and dressing up...like that..."

    "Taking you to dinner and wearing a suit confuses things?" he asked her dubiously.

    "Just forget I said anything," she muttered, turning around and resting her back against the railing.

    "Maybe this was a bit much," he said, gazing out over the city, squinting against the breeze. "I just...I like you. I like talking to you. Being around you. If I overstep, just let me know. I'll pump the brakes."

    "Okay."

    He looked over his shoulder at her. "And please understand that wearing dresses like that kills all chances of me remaining professional."

    She turned her head and stared at him.

    He lifted an eyebrow at her, as if daring her to challenge him.

    "Know that wearing a suit like that kills all chances of me remaining professional," she threw back at him. She didn't wait for a response from him. She left him standing by the wall while she returned to their table.