Chapter 2 - Bronson
brONSON
I should’ve known something was up when my mother, out of the blue, called and said that she wanted to take me to the hottest new restaurant in town.
It wasn’t that my mother and I didn’t get along.
We did, for the most part. Sharing a meal together wasn't unusual for us, especially lunch at her favorite sandwich shop. But this? This was different.
My mother was a lot of things. Being on the cusp of a trend wasn’t one of them.
In a lot of ways, she was very old-fashioned.
She and her other retired friends had their routines.
It worked for my mother, especially since losing my father.
She had her knitting group every other Wednesday, her tea and book club on Thursdays, and every Sunday, she went to brunch with the same group of friends at the same restaurant they’d been going to for twenty years.
Having her ask me to take her to a hot, new East-meets-West fusion restaurant? Yeah, that hadn’t sounded like her. Not at all, and still, I agreed without a second’s thought.
When I called to let her know I was on the way to pick her up, she said, “Oh, I’m already on my way.” That was sign number two that this wasn’t simply my mom wanting to grab dinner with me. I ignored the flashing neon sign telling me this was a set-up and went to the restaurant.
I didn’t see her car in the lot when I arrived. Strange, but also, I lived closer to this place than she did, so I let it go. I went inside to get us a table, leaving my name with the host and letting them know my mother was on her way.
The place was pretty cool, I’d give it that. It was a fusion of Italian and Japanese, something I’d never tried before. The menu was absolutely magnificent… so magnificent that I got lost in it. I was only half paying attention when the server told me my other guest was here.
“Mom, I could’ve picked you up…” I looked up, and my jaw dropped. Sitting across from me was not my mother. It was a man, probably fifteen years older than I was but wearing clothes I’d expect to see on a college kid trying to get into the club.
“I’m sorry, I think there’s been a mistake,” I said.
“Bronson, right? I’m Kyle.”
Crap, there was no mistake. Arggg, my mother was at it again. She was very old-school and thought that all omegas should be married and start their families by 25. Why 25? I had no idea. She hadn’t had me until she was nearly forty.
The worst part was that I talked to her about trying to “help me” get a husband. I didn't want nor need her help. The first few times, she'd been upfront, asking me if she could set me up with a friend’s son. I missed those days. I could deny her request and then move on with my day.
Then came what I called her phase 2, where she would have a random man with her when we met up or when I came over for dinner.
Those sucked because I was stuck there having to play nice, while wanting to get up and walk out.
I wouldn’t, though. It wasn’t Kyle’s fault my mother hadn’t told me about the plan.
He was just as much a victim of the situation as I was.
“Don’t tell me,” I said, sinking back in my chair. “My mother told you that we were here for a blind date… and that I knew about this date.”
“Well, not in those words, but yeah. You didn’t know?”
I shook my head.
“Do you want me to leave?”
Did I? Heck yeah. I wanted to get up right then and there and walk out, but this poor guy... he didn’t know he’d been part of my mother’s scheming. He probably planned on having a nice evening at a yummy new restaurant.
“No. You don’t have to leave. But this would be a shared meal, nothing more. I’m not dating right now,” I said.
My words were mostly true. I wasn’t dating anyone, but also… I wasn’t closed off to dating. What I was absolutely, positively closed off to was being sideswiped with a random date I hadn’t asked for.
“Sorry, I didn’t know,” he said. “But since you offered and we are already here, I’ll take you up on the offer… if it still stands.”
Now I felt like a real jerk. “Sure.”
We ordered our food and had some of the most awkward date conversation I’d ever had.
It felt like I was being interviewed for a job as a boyfriend, one I never applied for.
But weirder than that was the way he replied to my answers, almost as if he were auditioning for the role of the “hot older single guy” on some sort of reality TV show.
Nothing about the two of us meshed, but the food was delicious, so there was that.
When the bill came, I went to pay for it, and he let me, which was fine. Splitting would have been better, since I hadn’t known it was a date. I wasn't one of those alphas-always-pay kind of omegas. There was nothing innately wrong with him getting his meal paid for.
What was wrong was the way he reached for my hand as I got out of the chair. I’d been very clear about my intentions, and here he was, full-on ignoring them.
“I told you, I’m not dating,” I said. I felt bad rejecting him so bluntly, but he wasn’t taking any of my hints throughout the night or my words at face value. I didn’t have time for that.
“Who said anything about dating?” And then his hand went to my ass.
Oh, fuck no. “I’m going to go and make some reservations for my mom,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to keep me inside while he left, and there was no way I was going to encourage him any further by walking out with him. Not that I’d been actively encouraging him to begin with.
“That’s fine. I’ll wait with you.”
“No, you can go.”
And then, the creeper tried to kiss me right there in the restaurant. I dodged him and walked to the front counter. I was not dealing with that crap.
“Do you need anything?” the host asked.
“Yeah, I need this blind date not to be my blind date,” I said it lightly, but meant every word. “Between you and me, I never agree to this one, and he still thinks it’s leading back to his place.”
“Oh, trust me, honey, I know how that is.” He leaned in closer and whispered, “I’ve got a grandmother who thinks I should’ve been married long ago. She’s relentless. Do you need me to walk you out?”
It was tempting, very tempting, but I could take the guy if I had to. I just didn’t want to deal with any of it.
“I’m just out back,” I assured him, and off I went. My sorry excuse for a date was still there. I just went straight to my car and left, pretending I didn’t see him wave. I had no patience for Kyle, tonight or ever.
I had my mother on speakerphone before I turned onto the main road.
“Did you have a nice time, dear?”
“Mother, how could you do that to me? We’ve talked about this.” So many times I couldn’t begin to count them. It was a good thing she was an amazing mother in all other ways, because argh.
“What? I helped set you up for a future.”
“A future? That guy was almost fifteen years older than me and he thinks he’s twenty.”
“A youthful spirit is great for raising children.”
“Mother, do we have to have this conversation again? The one where I tell you to stay out of my personal life, and you tell me that it’s a mother’s job to take care of her children, and I say it’s not your job to take care of my social life?
And then we both get mad at each other and don’t speak for a week? Is that what we’re doing now?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
I hated to pull out the big guns with the “not speak for a week” threat, but it was what I needed to do, apparently.
“I love that you and Dad had a great marriage and that you loved each other very much, and I know that you’re lonely now.
That doesn’t mean that’s the life everybody chooses or the one I want you to choose for me.
I can find my own dates.” In theory. It had been a hot minute.
“At least you got a dinner out of it,” she offered.
“A dinner I paid for, Mom. One that felt like a freaking job interview.”
“Oh. I thought he was nice when I met him.” She sounded remorseful, and for a split second, I thought I was being too harsh on her.
“About that… where did you meet him?”
“In the waiting room at the dentist.” And that split second was over.
Of course, she did.
“I’m going to hang up now, drive the rest of the way home, and in the morning, I’m going to pretend like tonight never happened.”
She apologized again, and I appreciated it, but I’d appreciate it more if I believed that she really wouldn’t do something like this again. Last time, it had been a few months. So… progress?
I went inside, exhausted, and hopped in the shower. I loved the food, but they served a lot of sizzling plates, and I didn’t want to smell like it all night.
When I came out, I had a text notification.
I swear to the goddess, Mom, if you gave my number to that guy, I’m going to scream.
But it wasn’t from him. It was a text from an unknown number, one that didn’t get flagged as spam. I tapped it open, assuming it was something from work, and on the screen was a picture of a panther at what looked like a party.
Oh, fuck no.
At first, I thought it was photoshopped or maybe AI-generated, but then I saw the caption: “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.” It got me thinking that maybe this was something much worse.
I looked for all the typical signs the photo had been doctored and found none. It was real. Somebody had a panther just chilling at a party.
Who is this? I shot back and waited.
Nothing.
What you’re doing is illegal.
Again, no reply.
I’m going to report you.
I don’t know why I said that. I had no way of finding out where this guy was, but maybe if I scared him enough, he would stop? Wild animals were meant to be wild, not kept as some sort of party favor. Who does that?