Long Time, No See

IIIIIII: II

Denise

The drive to the restaurant in Reed's car was entertaining, to say the least. We spoke about trivial matters, laughed at some of his work memories, and generally just enjoyed each other's company.

And things were going really well -- until things took a turn for the worst.

Literally.

We literally took a wrong turn and got lost basically.

Reed's plan for tonight was to take us to a restaurant, recommended by his close friend David Lattimore who works as a culinary critique for the city newspaper. Unfortunately, we ended up missing the street it was on and ended up in front of a dilapidated gym that had recently gone out of business.

Thankfully, I knew the area a little from past years of commuting to university and back, so despite completely missing our reservation, I knew an upscale, popular, restaurant just ten minutes from our location that I could barter our way into.

Let's just say, I'm owed big time by a waiter with a wandering eye.

Reed apologized profusely the whole time we parked and walked up to the restaurant but I reassure him that it's fine stating it's only helped to make our date all the more memorable.

We approach the front desk where a tight-lipped brunette man is stood eyeing us both expressionlessly before addressing us.

"Good evening sir and madam. May I ask what the name is for the reservation you have for tonight." He drones, with a serious look on his face silently waiting for us to give a name; challenging us to say otherwise.

Reed steps forward to address the man but I lift my hand up to his chest and hold him back before he can say anything.

"I got this Norton," I tell him confidently without looking back at him.

"I'm sorry, but is Dexter Crawford working tonight? I need to talk to him," I pry with an easy smile.

The man stands unmoved.

"I'm sorry ma'am but without a reservation, I'm afraid I can't be of any more service other than to help you make a booking." The man responds in a bored voice and I grit my teeth slightly nodding my head in mild annoyance.

"It will only take a minute of your time to check. Dexter Crawford, that's the name you should ask for," I reiterate with a strained smile though underneath I can feel my anger simmering at his dismissal of me.

From behind the man, I hear the sound of heavy doors swinging open; revealing a tall, dark-skinned man with long, thick, cornrows going down his head, in a server's uniform. In one arm he balances a plate of spaghetti, whilst in the other a bottle of red wine.

Bingo.

I give a loud "ahem" from where we're standing and watch as Dexter's eyes momentarily flit to me before looking away, only to quickly return to me. His expression morphs into one of complete horror, and the plate he's holding loses a meatball due to the tremors traveling down his arms.

I give him a coy smile back with a wave of my fingers and then beckon him over with my right index finger.

With sick amusement, I watch him quickly drop the food and wine at the table he's serving before making his way to me with quick strides.

"Dexter! My dear friend," I greet him but he glares at me, whilst sending cautious looks to the man standing at the front desk who watches with growing suspicion as to what is going on.

"What are you doing here Denise?!" Dexter hisses from between gritted teeth, his eyes flit around nervously as if he doesn't want to be caught talking to me.