Chapter 5 #2
She circles the stand and gestures for me to follow her into the French restaurant. As we weave through the labyrinth of tables, my gaze darts to the secluded section we’re heading toward, and I freeze, a burst of anger coursing through my veins.
Unbelievable.
The hostess glances back at me, frowning. “Is something wrong, ma’am?”
“I need a minute.” I turn around and fish my cell phone out of my purse. I speed dial Amir. He picks up immediately. “You better be in the fucking restroom.”
He swallows. “Not exactly…”
I knew it. Asshole.
“I’m leaving, Amir. This is ridiculous. You can’t just set me up on a blind date without my consent.”
Amir sighs. “Live a little, Saf. It’s one dinner. It won’t kill you.”
I grit my teeth. “I don’t even know this man.”
“His name is Preston Crawford.” Even his name sounds pretentious. “He’s a surgeon. He works in pediatrics at St. Mary’s Memorial. He’s never been married, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t do drugs, and he’s not a member of Club Hades, I promise.”
“Amir—”
“One dinner, Saf. One meal. Please? For me? I…” He pauses. “I worry about you. It’s not healthy to be so… alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have you.”
He expels a small breath. “You know what I mean, Saffy. Please? Just give Preston fifteen minutes. Enough time for the appetizer to come. If you want to leave then, fine. I’ll even call you with an emergency.”
I begrudgingly mull it over. I’m starving. That’s the only reason I’m even considering this. I haven’t eaten all day. I haven’t had time. So, if sitting through a meal with snobby old money Ken is what I have to do in order for the hunger pangs to subside, then so be it.
“Fine. But you better call me in exactly fifteen minutes.”
“I promise.”
With a heavy exhale, I hang up on Amir and turn back around, the hostess growing impatient with me.
“Lead the way,” I say, forcing a smile.
As we approach the table, Preston, a man in his late thirties with alarmingly white teeth stands up, straightening his suit jacket.
I give him a quick once-over, surveying Amir’s selection for a possible mate.
Tousled light brown hair. Baby blue eyes.
Clean-shaven. By all intents and purposes, he’s attractive.
Not my type, but attractive enough to eat a meal with.
“Safia?” He extends his hand, grinning. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Preston Crawford.”
“I’d introduce myself but it appears you already know my name.” I shake his hand, and he rounds the table, pulling out a chair for me. I clear my throat. “Thanks.”
Preston sits back down, draping a cloth napkin over his right thigh. He gestures to a bottle of Riesling submerged in a wine cooler. “I ordered some wine. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” He pours me a glass. Keep them coming. I’ll need it. “So, Preston, do you often go on blind dates?”
He clears his throat, taken aback. “Uh… No, not really. I um… My schedule doesn’t often allow for dating, but when Amir told me about you and showed me your picture, I—” He pauses, red splotches creeping up his neck. “Sorry, I, uh… I don’t do this often.”
I smile in spite of myself. Interesting. I expected him to be arrogant and cocky, but he’s surprisingly… dorky. Non-threatening. I might not need to drink so much, after all.
“It’s normal to be nervous on a first date,” I say, swirling the wine glass around. “It’s a natural response to uncertainty and the desire to make a good first impression. What you’re feeling is rooted in our social instincts and fear of rejection.”
He swallows. “Rejection… Right.”
“Don’t worry, Preston,” I say with a grin. “Just be yourself and it’ll all be fine.”
There’s a set chef’s menu tonight at Chez Gustave.
Less active decision-making required. Preston is grateful.
He doesn’t like making decisions, a curious quality given that he’s a surgeon and required to make split-second decisions every day.
Perhaps he saves his judgment calls for the operating table.
He could prefer predictability and minimal choices outside of work.
This would allow his mind to relax from the constant high-stakes pressure.
I’m not like Preston. I like making decisions. I like having the ability to choose.
“Bird watching? Fascinating,” I muse as our server removes the empty appetizer plates from the table.
My phone finally rings. Amir is seven minutes late in calling, but I’m glad he remembered.
I ignore the call. Preston is proving to be a tolerable dining companion, although his hobbies could make a dead man fall asleep. “Do you, uh…have a favorite bird?”
Preston starts to drone on about his bird-watching trip last August. My phone rings again and again. All through the evening. I continue to ignore it. Preston might be slightly boring but the food tonight is simply divine. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
Just as dessert arrives, a shadow falls across the table, and I gasp, tilting my head up to find Agent Kane hovering above us.
His jaw sets as his cold gaze flicks between me and Preston.
"I've been trying to call you, Doctor Hadid.
" I blink, unable to comprehend that he's here.
How did he find me? Kane adds, "Another body's been discovered.
Would you like to join me at the crime scene or.
.." He glares at Preston. "Or do you need some dessert first? "
I blanch, flashing Preston an apologetic look. "I—"
"It's okay," Preston says, smiling courteously. "Go ahead. I'll call you."
I nod, puzzled by Kane's hardened demeanor. "Alright. I had a—"
"Now, Safia," Kane grunts. "Let's go."
He drags me out of Chez Gustave faster than I can catch my breath.