Chapter 6 It’s a Date
It's a Date
“You have to call him,” Naomi said.
They were standing in the back of the textile room. It was a sewing room with sixteen sewing machines set up in two rows of eight, but the school administration felt “textile room” was artier and less home ec-y.
“Don’t you have a class to go to?” Abby glared at her friend.
“I’m in it. I’m here to confer on the designs for the spring showcase.”
Abby rolled her eyes. They’d already conferred on the costumes. “You’re here to gossip.”
“I am here to lend emotional support to my very good friend who, although beautiful, witty, and charming, is socially stunted. You only have one more day to call him, and then he’s coming for you.”
Naomi fake shivered. “Ooh, I get all tingly just thinking about it. It sounds so… so…”
“Creepy? Psychotic? Predatory?”
“Sexy,” Naomi finished.
“Jesus. You’re worse than I am.”
“Ms. Abby?” Armando called out, his hand raised. “My needle’s jammed.”
Abby helped him fix his machine and adjust the tension for the fabric he was sewing and spent several minutes looking over a few more students’ work. When she returned to the back of the room, Naomi looked up from her phone with a guilty expression.
No. Not her phone. Abby’s phone.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“I’m sorry,” Naomi said. “Actually, I’m not—you were never going to do it. You guys have a date Friday night.”
“What?!”
The noise stopped as all the students turned to look at them.
“It’s okay,” Abby said. “Keep working on your projects.”
She snatched her phone from Naomi. “What is wrong with you?”
“So many things. Which is good for my therapist’s investment portfolio. Seriously, Abby, you need this. You need to get out there. Not every guy is a douchebag.”
“I don’t know anything about this guy. He could be a serial killer.”
“I don’t think Veterans Against Child Abuse would let a serial killer ride with them,” Naomi said.
“Well, obviously he hasn’t been caught yet.”
“Abby, you have a hot guy who wants to take you out to dinner. Who cares if it’s a bust and he’s not the one?” she said with air quotes. “Whatever that means. Think of him as practice. Flirt a little, rip off the Band-Aid, break the seal.”
Abby glared at her.
“Not like that. Although if you do, please tell me all the dirty details, especially if he really is good with his hands.”
Would it be so bad going out one time with a guy? He was hot. And relatively amusing. And it had been a long time since she’d been on a real date.
She scrolled through the short text exchange.
Hi. This is Abby.
Hey. I didn’t think I’d hear from you.
Why did you give me your card then?
I was hopeful.
You want to get drinks sometime?
I’m not much of a drinker
Are you an eater?
Of food?
Yes
Yes.
How about dinner Friday?
Sounds like fun
Want to meet somewhere or you good with me picking you up?
You can pick me up
Cool. See you at 6.
Abby stared at Naomi. “You told him to pick me up?”
“It’s a date. We’re doing it the old-fashioned way,” Naomi said.
“What is this we? You’re not going on a date with him.”
“The colloquial we.”
“I can’t.” She shook her head. “I can’t.”
Her phone pinged and she jumped, fumbled the phone like a hot potato, and managed to bounce it toward Naomi, who caught it.
“Jumpy?” Naomi asked.
“Just…cancel. Tell him I came down with the flu. Or smallpox. Something contagious. But not Ebola, that’s too contagious.”
Naomi held the screen toward her.
Need your address.
Are you allergic to anything?
“Serial killers don’t ask if you’re allergic to anything,” Naomi said.
“Unless they want to make sure the drug they slip you doesn’t kill you before they can.”
“Stop watching Dateline.” Naomi glanced at the students and said in a low voice, “Melanie thinks the world of him, and if anyone should be wary of men, it’s her. Kids are good judges of character. You are doing this.”
Abby had to concede her point about Melanie. “Fine. But if he kills me, I’m haunting you until you die.”
“Does anyone know what’s wrong with Tink?”
Tinker glanced across the room to the bar where Harrison and Angie sat. From an outsider’s perspective, they looked like any other couple on a date, but their vantage point gave them a clear view of the front entrance of the restaurant and the hall to the restrooms.
Tink sat at a table for one on the far side, where he had a clear view of the dining room and the kitchen entrance.
“He looks fine. Why do you think something’s wrong with him?” Nash asked. He and Addison were on the other side of the restaurant.
Their earpiece communications link let them talk to each other without making it obvious.
“He keeps smiling,” Harrison said.
“So?” Addison asked.
“So, it’s not his usual shit-eating smirk. It’s an actual, honest to god, smile,” Harrison said.
Angela gasped. “Did you ask her out?”
“Ask who out?” Nash asked.
“Y’all can stop talking about me like I’m not here anytime now,” Tink said.
“Oh my god! You did!” Angela squealed in his ear, and he grimaced. From across the room, she looked incredibly happy.
“While I’m enjoying the potential deep dive into Tink’s dating life, target number one walked in,” Paige said. She and Graham were sitting outside the restaurant since they’d met their target previously.
“Angie, can you adjust camera three down slightly?” Graham asked.
Angie fiddled with her phone on top of the bar. “Good?”
“Yup.”
Tinker stared over the top of the menu and watched their target follow the ma?tre d’ through the dining room to a table close to his own.
“Remember, he has to pass the packet before we can grab him,” Paige instructed. “Our client wants hard proof and wants this done quietly.”
“I still don’t understand why he didn’t go to the police,” Nash said.
“It’s hard to believe your own son would steal from you and sell secrets to the competition,” Addison said. “He wants to see it with his own eyes. He’s probably hoping he’s wrong and this will all be for nothing.”
“The gambling debt didn’t sell it for him?” Tink asked.
They’d started investigating Arthur Nathan Clark IV about two months ago, when his father had noticed money being siphoned out of smaller companies’ business accounts.
“Guess not,” Paige said. “Target two is at the entrance.”
A slightly overweight older man walked through the dining room and joined Arty IV. He waved off the waiter when offered a menu.
Tink couldn’t hear what he said. “Paige, you got comms on them?”
“Yeah, it’s recording.”
The team remained quiet, waiting for the handoff.
“He’s reaching into his jacket.” Angie had the benefit of watching the feed from the cameras they’d installed earlier in the day, thanks to a few hundred slipped to the manager.
Sure enough, Arty pulled a long manila envelope, folded in half lengthwise, from his suit jacket pocket and laid it on the table.
“Wait until Lewis takes it,” Graham said.
As soon as Lewis, their second target, put his hand on the envelope and pulled it across the table, Tink was up. He made it to the table and grabbed the envelope from Lewis’s hand before he could tuck it away.
“Excuse me,” Lewis said with a thick Southern accent. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“The guy hired to stop you from buying your competitor’s intellectual property.” Tink looked at the other man. “Arty, your father and the Board of Directors would like a word with you.”
Tink knew the minute the wide-eyed man decided to bolt. He sighed. “Runner.”
Arty dodged between tables. Angie hopped down from her barstool and appeared to stumble right before she body-checked good ol’ Arty to the ground.
“Good job, Angie,” Addison said.
Angie flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Thanks. I’ve been practicing.”
Lewis, still in his chair, sputtered, “You can’t prove anything.”
Tink slapped him hard on the shoulder and squeezed. “Sure thing. Mr. Clark III’s lawyers will be in touch.”
He tucked the envelope into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and buttoned it at his waist. Ignoring the stares from the other diners, he joined Harrison and Angie while Nash and Addison spoke with the manager.
“You know you didn’t have to body check him, we can’t arrest him,” he said.
Angie shrugged. “I know, but it was fun.”
Arty looked up from the chair Harrison had helped him into. “You mean…you’re not cops?”
Tink scowled. “Do I look like a cop?”
“Then you’re not taking me somewhere?”
“Why would you think that?” Harrison asked.
Arthur pointed at Tink. “Because he said—”
“I said your daddy and BOD wanted a word with you.”
“Then I can…I can go?”
Angie waved him away like an annoying fly. Arthur bolted from his seat and sprinted for the door.
“Why are there so many of us here? This was an easy job,” Angie said.
“Tink was here as muscle. You were here to control the video and audio. Harrison was here to keep you from getting hit on,” Paige said through comms. “Addison sweet-talked Graham into including her and Nash so they could get their dinner paid for.”
“Ooh, putting that psych degree to work by manipulating the boss. Nice,” Angie said.
“I heard that,” Graham said.
“Someone had to be here to smooth things over with the manager. Besides, we’re expensing it to the client.” Addison raised a glass of wine in their direction before taking out her earpiece.
“Tink, Graham will meet you in the lobby to get the packet,” Paige said. “Y’all are clear for the night. We’ll debrief tomorrow—nine a.m.”
Harrison held out his hand and slapped Tink on the back. “I’m hanging around. I made reservations for me and my girl. I’ll catch y’all tomorrow.”
Angie joined Tink and slid her arm through his. “So…where are you taking her?”
Tink glanced down at her. He wanted to be annoyed at her meddling, but she was as much a sister to him as Dani was. Not that they weren’t both annoying most of the time.
“I don’t know yet.”
Angie tugged on his arm. “What do you mean you don’t know? You have to know. And you have to tell her where you’re taking her.”
“Why? I asked if she had any allergies.”
Angie stared at him like he’d said the moon was a giant helium balloon. “Because she has to plan what to wear.”
“What does it matter what she wears?” He was thoroughly confused. This was the book thing all over again—which he still didn’t understand.
“What does it—? Graham, tell him.”
Graham sauntered up to them. “You gotta tell her where you’re taking her. At the very least, you need to tell her to dress nice or casual.”
Tink pulled the packet from his jacket and handed it over. “How do you even know what we’re talking about?”
Graham took the envelope and tapped a finger in front of his ear. He saluted with the envelope and left.
Tink scowled and yanked the device out and handed it to Angie. Stupid earpieces.
Angie released his arm and faced him. “If she dresses up and you show up in jeans and one of your black tees, it’s going to be awkward and embarrassing, especially for her. Same goes if you show up in this and she’s in jeans and a tee.” She gestured to his suit.
“This is why I don’t date—too many fucking rules.”
“The rules are easy. Number one.” She held up her pointer finger.
“Pick the restaurant, unless she invites you out. Don’t ask her what she feels like or where she wants to go.
Number two, tell her where or tell her how to dress: black tie, dressy, casual, or plan on getting dirty.
Three.” She continued to tick off fingers.
“Be gentlemanly but take her lead on opening doors. Number four, don’t get smashed.
No one likes a sloppy date. Number five, be yourself, be honest, but don’t tell her your whole life story. ”
He stiffened at that last rule.
Angie placed her hands on his shoulders. “That’s not what I meant. No one wants to hear their date’s baggage on the first date, regardless of what it is. Guarantee there are going to be things she doesn’t share with you right away. Some things take trust, and that takes time.”
This was getting complicated. He’d asked Abby out on a whim. Hell, he couldn’t even explain why he’d ridden to the school to see her again. Some compulsion had him checking his watch and pointing his bike toward West Ashley instead of home.
He hadn’t actually thought she’d get in touch with him, and he’d already decided he wouldn’t try to track down her info. She was a SERIOUS RELATIONSHIP, and he was not. He should cancel and save them both the hassle.
“Don’t,” Angie said.
“Don’t what?”
“Cancel. Don’t try to deny it, either. I can see it on your face. Something told you to ask this woman out on an actual date. And Harrison was right, you’ve been smiling to yourself all night.” Her gaze softened. “Give yourself a chance, Christian—you deserve it.”
He disagreed with her on that part but decided to go with it. “Fine. Any suggestions on where I should take her?”
Angie grinned and slipped her arm back through his. “So many! Does she like seafood? What about shrimp and grits? Or you could go for soul food—but you don’t like collard greens.”
Tink sighed. He may not regret the date, but he would definitely regret asking Angie for advice.