Chapter 20 #2
I’m about to ask something else when we pass through the door, and the magnificent surroundings distract me.
Jesus, this place is sumptuous … Every inch of the lobby is filled with ornate red-and-gold detailing, carved wooden dragons, pagoda-style balconies, and lanterns.
It feels like stepping into an opulent, old-world Chinese palace.
“Wow,” I breathe out.
“I take it you’ve never been here before.”
“No, you?”
“A few times. My mother loved seeing plays, and she dragged me along to show off her certified genius son.”
My hand tightens around his, compelling him to meet my eyes. “Baby, we don’t have to be here if you don’t want to. We can go literally anywhere, and I’ll still have a great evening.”
“No, it’s good. After tonight, I’ll have far better memories of this place than those old ones.”
When I pucker my lips for a peck, he gives me a careful one, barely anything. I return my attention to the lobby, and only now notice how empty it is. “Are we early?”
“We’re right on time.”
“Did you rent the whole—”
“Good evening, sir,” an older man in a bellhop uniform greets us. “Ma’am,” he adds, bowing a little. “I believe you are the Colemans.”
Neither of us corrects him—on the contrary, we nod. And as silly as it is, it makes my heart beat a little faster. One of his colleagues helps us out of our coats, and the old man extends a graceful arm toward the snack bar.
“Get anything you want,” Lex says with indulgence, “but keep in mind we have a dinner reservation after this.”
I really must be part raccoon, because I perk up at that. “Really?”
Lex nods. “Somewhere you’ve been wanting to try.”
“Oh, is it the fancy-as-hell Mexican place?!”
He doesn’t answer, but his smile fades, and something ticks in his jaw. Oh, no …
“I’ll pretend I didn’t guess,” I offer sheepishly.
“Can we just share a small popcorn? And something to drink,” I say.
“There’s champagne waiting for us in the room,” Lex explains.
“Then that’s perfect.”
“If you will follow me,” the old man says once we have our small popcorn, before leading us to the auditorium.
It’s as beautifully ornamented as the lobby, and just as empty.
Lex really went all out and booked the whole place for us, didn’t he?
On the stage, the red curtains are closed and, before it, a large white screen.
The man leads us to two seats in the first row of the VIP area, where two tables have been set on each side. One holds a bottle of champagne in a bucket full of ice, the other one, an enormous bouquet of bright-colored tulips. I look up at Lex, positively shocked by how incredible everything is.
Jesus fucking Christ. This man can have all of me after this. Every part, even my ass if he wants. I don’t care. I’ll endure the pain.
We sit down in the comfortable armchairs, and the man opens the champagne before pouring us two glasses. Once we have them, he leaves us alone to stand at the end of our row, waiting.
“To my favorite date in American history,” Lex offers as a toast, presenting his glass to me.
“You’re insane,” I whisper after I’ve tapped mine to his. “This is way too much.”
“I had a lot of free time on my hands.”
“Again, we need to find you a hobby that isn’t me.”
I take a sip, the fine bubbles tickling my tongue. The lanterns dim around us, plunging us into semi-darkness. Then a projector starts, and the white screen comes to life.
I’ve seen this movie so many times, I recognize it as soon as the first frame starts. “Are you serious?!” I exclaim, turning to Lex. “Toy Story?”
“I figured you didn’t get to see it in the theaters, since it came out before you were born.”
“Well, you were right.”
“This is an original reel, from ninety-five. I thought digital would ruin the idea.”
“You’re insane,” I say again, already absorbed by the story. Lex grabs my hand and settles it on his lap, tangled in his.
Oh, this is definitely my favorite birthday ever. Though I wish my favorite movie were Citizen Kane or something, because renting out such an incredible place to watch a Pixar movie feels a little sacrilegious.
At some point during the movie, shortly after Woody and Buzz meet, Lex produces a flat package from somewhere and hands it to me. It’s neatly gift-wrapped, and it instantly claims my attention.
While he holds my glass for me, I open it. There’s just enough light to make it out. It’s a sketch of a scene we just saw, professionally framed.
“Is this … What is this?”
“It’s from the storyboard.”
“The storyboard?”
“They draw every frame before making a movie, to—”
“I know what a storyboard is, Alexander. This is from … This movie? For real?”
“Yes.”
My jaw falls open. “You’re fucking crazy,” I breathe out, trying to wrap my mind around what this means. I now own a slice of my favorite movie. One of the genius minds who came up with it drew this with his very real hands. And now I own it.
By the end of the movie, Lex has given me three more of these storyboard sketches, all shortly after their scene unfolded on the screen. And with each of them, surprise struck me again.
This doesn’t feel legal. Those drawings should be somewhere in a museum, not on my lap. But already, I’m thinking of where I’ll hang them in the apartment we’ll soon share. Or in my home office, which we plan on using one of the spare bedrooms for.
God, I can’t wait!
“You’re not ready for the things I’ll do to you when we get back to your place,” Andrea says as the server takes away our empty dessert plates.
It sounds both like a threat and a promise, so I ask, cocking an eyebrow, “Good or bad?”
“Both. I’ll make you feel very good by doing very bad things to you.”
“I like the sound of that …”
Between her promise just now and the way her foot has been grazing my leg the whole time, I’d say the restaurant was a hit, just like the theater.
I’m a little annoyed she guessed it so easily, but it only confirmed how much she wanted to be here.
And I have to say, my little raccoon has a knack for picking the right restaurants.
I’m not one for haute cuisine, and I’m not well-versed in Mexican specialties.
But the dishes were all excellent, and Andrea moaned with almost every new bite.
Plus, I discovered what might become my favorite drink from now on.
Margaritas, as it turns out, are the perfect balance of acidic tang and bitterness, with nearly no sweetness to them.
It’s clean, sharp, and dangerous in the best way, given how inebriated I feel despite having only three of them.
“Should we go on with our evening plans, then?” I suggest.
“Do you have more planned?”
“Aside from you doing terrible things to me, no.”
She giggles and shakes her head. “And I’m the impatient one?”
“You’re rubbing off on me, I suppose.”
Just as I’m about to call a server for the check, I notice one coming toward us. “Excuse me, sir, you have a call,” he explains once he reaches us, presenting me with a landline phone.
“Me?” I ask, confused. No one knows we’re here. Not even Kevin. “Are you sure?”
“Mr. Coleman, right? Alexander Coleman?”
Andrea and I exchange a grave look, the flirtiness of the moment gone entirely.
A sense of danger prickles at the back of my neck. We both left our phones at my apartment, so whoever that is, I’d imagine they went to great lengths to contact me. Who the fuck could that be?
I nod at the server, who hands me the phone. The moment he’s gone, I press it to my ear and say, “Who is this?”
“Lex, thank God!”
The tension in my shoulders relaxes as I immediately recognize the voice. “Oliver, what the hell?”
The worry on Andrea’s face dims, but not entirely.
“I’ve been trying to call you for hours!” Oliver says.
“We don’t have our phones on us. How did you know we were here?”
“I hacked into your inbox and found an email with the reservation confirmation.”
My first reflex is to lecture him on boundaries and privacy, but I’m aware he wouldn’t have gone to such lengths if there wasn’t something happening. “What’s going on?”
“I was talking to a friend, who also dabbles in hacking and all that, and he told me someone put out a hit on Nammota.”
“What?”
“There’s a bounty. A million dollars to whoever kills Nammota. And well, that’s … you and Andy. I think you’re both in danger.”
The dread I feel must be apparent because Andrea’s concern returns tenfold, and she mouths, “What is it?”
“Who put it out?” I ask Oliver.
“I haven’t figured it out yet. Still looking into it. I wasted hours trying to find you guys.”
“Thank you for letting us know. I’ll handle it.”
I hang up and take my wallet out as I put the phone down on the table. Then I take out four hundred dollars and lay them next to it. It should be enough to cover our dinner and the tip.
“Lex, what’s going on?” Andrea asks.
“I’ll tell you in the car. We need to go now.”
I stand up and come around the table to help her do the same. “You’re scaring me,” she says, slipping on her kimono over her blue dress.
“I know.” Telling her would scare her even more, and we’re not wasting a few precious seconds while she processes everything.
We get our coats back and then head out without putting them on. It’s raining again, and the cold drops help soothe my racing mind a little, grounding me. As soon as we’re in the car, I urge Andrea to get in, and follow her with our things.
“Drive us back to my place,” I tell the driver. “Quickly.”
This can’t be fucking happening. Not when everything was going so perfectly with our lives, not when I finally got her back.
But it seems like my past isn’t done haunting us. And to my dismay, we’re in this together, for better or worse.
By the time the driver pulls up in front of Lex’s building, he has explained everything to me, using sign language so the driver wouldn’t hear it all. And with every new motion of his hand, my guts twisted with more worry.