And So We Fall

Table For Two

*Ryan's POV*

Z hangs onto my arm as we walk side by side into the upscale restaurant downtown. She smiles brightly at me, which I kind of missed. It took two weeks for Z's anger to fizz off. I guess this is my way of telling her that I'm sorry and it'll never happen again.

The waiter greets me with a "good evening, Mr. Ross. Table for two?" I nod, and he leads us to a secluded table at the back of the restaurant, just like I specified.

My bodyguard, Spencer, follows us, keeping his distance. He used to accompany me everywhere back before Death Valley was released, but I've since told him that he doesn't really have to anymore; I can take care of myself. Spence insisted this time, though. He gave me a "this is a public place and anything could happen and I just want to make sure you're safe" lecture.

Z sits down across from me, taking in the atmosphere. She looks beautiful tonight; her long blonde hair falling in perfect waves around her face, and her dark brown eyes gleaming with amazement.

"Ryan! This place is far out," she enthuses, looking around at the crystal chandeliers and satin tablecloths and marble statues. "This is a lovely thank you present."

"Anything for my girl." I smile and give her a peck from across the table.

The waiter walks over and greets us with an appetizer. It's a very small portion of some kind of gooey meat. I grimace. I never eat out at ultra fancy places like this. I usually just order Chinese or cook something up with Z. I guess the whole "you-have-a-shit-load-of-money" lifestyle never really set in with me. I poke at the strange piece of food and watch Z pick it up and eat it whole. I look at her in astonishment.

"It's just squid." She shrugs.

Squid?

Dear God, what was I thinking?

The restaurant has started to fill in with more customers for the evening, so Spencer moves closer to us, telling people to back away as they gawk and stare. We're starting on our third course when I hear a commotion a few tables away. I gladly stop trying to eat the pig's jowl or whatever the fuck the waiter said the slab of meat was and look over to my right.

I see Spencer trying to hold a man back. The man is arguing with him, obviously distressed, and keeps trying to move around Spence. The man then looks behind Spencer and makes eye contact with me. I freeze. My blood turns cold and a weight settles in the pit of my stomach. I turn to Z and stammer, "I - uh, need to use . . . I need to go to the um, the bathroom."

She looks at me in bewilderment but doesn't say a word as I quickly head away from her, the table, and my father.

As I get closer to the bathroom, I begin to hear yelling. Shouts of "George! He's my son, let me through! I need to speak with him! George!" ring through my ears and I begin to feel dizzy. My head is spinning and I can't feel my feet touch the ground. I'm on autopilot with the world spinning around me. I weave in and out of tables, ignoring the people staring at me as if they'd just seen a ghost.

This can't be happening. I haven't seen him in almost fourteen years. He can't show up now and beg for forgiveness. He can't he can't he can't.

I'm about to reach for the bathroom door when a hand grabs my forearm firmly. I dare to meet the face of my assassin, and I see my father looking up at me with pleading eyes.

"George," he breathes. "It's me."

Suddenly Spencer is roughly pulling him off me, dragging him away with a "sorry, Ryan. Won't happen again." My father is twisting his head to look at me with those same pleading eyes as Spencer grips his arm tighter.