Fascinating Villains

{14} - Lunching

Sitting inside my car, drumming with my fingers across the steering wheel, I consult the digital clock to my right for a millionth time.

11h55.

11h56!

Is it too early to go in..? Perhaps she is waiting for me... I do not know her well enough to be aware of her punctuality standards. I should preserve a nonchalant attitude, but I do not want her to think I am entirely uninterested and rude, on top of that... Ugh. I listen to the song on the radio, attempting to calm down at least slightly. Eavesdropping is so much easier than this... I am parked in front of the entrance, but at the very edge of the parking lot, to watch the door inconspicuously.

Suddenly, a black Ferrari screeches into the lot, dangerously spinning and stopping between two parking lines, perfectly aligned. The driver turns the engines off and briskly steps out. With a dramatic flourish in the music that fills up the interior of my vehicle, Cheryl emerges in her overwhelming beauty from the luxurious automobile.

I try not to stare, but I cannot help it. She looks fabulous. A black headband adorns her long brown hair and she is wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses. My eyes are anchored to her as she walks up to the coffee shop, in a dark purple formal blouse tucked inside her black pencil skirt. I am shocked to see her in, apparently, business attire, although it is not displeasing. I was expecting her to wear casual clothing. When I think about it, she was wearing a blouse and similar glasses the first time we met.

I leave my car and enter the restaurant, which is not too crowded. I get in line to order and scan the two dozen people here, looking for my lunch companion. A hand wraps around my left bicep, startling me. I violently whisk to that side, ending up face to face with Cheryl.

"Hi, Tanza! It's just me," she chuckles, and her fingers glide down the sleeve of my coat as she removes her hand from it.

"Hi! Do you know what you want to order?"

I hope my visceral reaction to physical contact did not make me appear distrustful or unreasonably nervous. I just have grown to abhor being touched unnecessarily.

"Yes! What about you?"

I nod. "Almost."

"You aren't wearing your hat!" she exclaims, pouting playfully.

"Should I have brought it?"

"I'm not complainin'. You look nice when I can see your face, too."

"You look way nicer than I do."

"Ah, really? Thanks. That's quite the compliment."

She winks at me, slightly biting into the lipstick of her lower lip. She skips forward to reach the counter, greeting the cashier with a charming grin.

After we received and paid for our meal, we settle down at a table for two. Ripping the paper enveloppe that holds a compost-appropriate fork and spoon, I commence my so-called investigation with a question that has been burning my tongue with anticipation for the last fifteen minutes,

"How's your stomach?"

"Absolutely fine. Good as new, even." The young woman laughs softly, picking up a piece of arugula that slipped out of her sandwich from her plate.

"That's really lucky, your friend must be one hell of a medic."

I pierce the plastic cover of my drink with the paper straw it came with, inserting it sufficiently.

"Jealous already? You know, I have a lot of friends, it's only gonna get worse from here!"

Her smile is broad, and she carefully inserts the morsel of arugula into her mouth, noticeably pleased by my intrusive query.