Ten Evelyn
I arrived five minutes late, having spent an hour fussing over what to wear and an additional half hour stuck in traffic. Against my better judgment, I sat in the car for an extra few minutes, planning how to join the table without making a scene.
Eventually, I took a few deep breaths and walked inside.
The restaurant was extravagant, with its high ceilings, countless chandeliers, and walls adorned with old French-style paintings. Wandering around to find them wouldn't be appropriate, so instead, I approached the hostess stand, asking for the table under Kimura.
As she was finding the table number, a soft hand landed on my shoulder.
Quickly turning my head, I came face to face with Vanessa.
"Evelyn," she smiled, wrapping her soft arms around me, pulling me into her.
“Happy birthday.”
Her hair tickled my neck as she pulled back, still keeping a hand on my arm and giving me another smile.
"Here," I breathed out, handing her the gift bag. Her nails brushed against my palm in the process.
"Thank you, sweetheart, you really didn't have to.” She tilted her head, giving me a soft look.
The room got a few degrees warmer before she turned her head and gave the hostess a polite nod. She turned her attention back to me again, running her hand down my arm until her fingers interlocked with mine.
"Come," she whispered in a velvety voice that gave me chills.
She began walking, leading me toward the table. She looked so beautiful in the silky red dress as she guided me along with conviction.
My brain shut off as I let her pull me.
When we got to the table, she slowly let go of my hand, leaving my fingers tingling in her wake.
She introduced me to her friends, who all gave me warm smiles. There were about twelve other women, and they all looked pleasant enough. Scanning the group, I spotted Lillian, who shot me an ‘I told you so’ look.
"Evelyn, why don't you sit next to me?" Vanessa suggested, gesturing toward the empty seat. "We just put in our first drink order, so you didn't miss appetizers." Her warm breath fanned over my ear as I nodded.
"Evelyn, right?" asked the golden-blonde-haired woman next to me as soon as I sat down. She was pretty, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, looking to be in her mid-twenties.
"Yes, and you are?" I was glad to engage in small talk with new people, not wanting to be a burden for Vanessa to entertain.
"I'm Elizabeth," she smiled back. "So how do you know Nessie?”
"I work at Vector Line as well,” I answered, processing the peculiar nickname. “What do you do?" I asked, sure she held a position just as remarkable as these other businesswomen.
"I'm a designer," she answered, flipping her blonde locks.
Asking her more, it turned out she had her own label, apparently specializing in dresses and lingerie, which she shared with no discretion.
When the waiter came over, I panicked, realizing I hadn't taken the time to look over the appetizers. Opening up my menu, it quickly became apparent I'd never seen any of these dishes before. The fact they were in French didn't help either.
"Evelyn?" Vanessa whispered, grabbing my attention as the waiter began taking the first few women's orders. "If you're in need of a recommendation, the grilled leek aubergine or the foie gras parfait are my personal favorites," she suggested, pointing to the items on her menu.
"Um, yeah, I'm sure they are wonderful." She sensed my hesitation, pointing to another dish with a name I couldn't pronounce.
"This one's just high-end aged cheeses with different artisan spreads. It's simple, if that's what you're after," she advised.
It was, and I felt relieved knowing I wasn't getting some rare animal I wouldn't be able to swallow down. "That sounds like a safe option."
She rolled her eyes playfully at my predictability. "I'm expecting you to be more adventurous with your dessert," she teased, her volume lower as she gazed across at me, making it harder to breathe.
"No promises," I shrugged, trying not to overthink Vanessa’s words as the waiter approached her.
She recited the name of her French dish flawlessly. I found myself watching the way her lips formed the unfamiliar words until the waiter looked at me.
My mind went blank. I had absolutely no idea how to pronounce what I'd chosen.
Without missing a beat, Vanessa smoothly ordered it for me.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. Partly because I felt like a child who needed help ordering off a menu, and partly because French somehow sounded unfairly attractive in her voice.
As the waiter walked away, she glanced over at me with a small smirk, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
"Vanessa, that's not impressive when you speak French," Elizabeth chimed in after placing her order with nowhere near Vanessa’s grace.
"You speak French?" My eyes widened, turning back to Vanessa.
"Un petit peu. I did international marketing for a year there," she answered, ignoring Elizabeth.
"Sukunakutomo, dareka wa kanshin shiteru mitai." Lillian muttered under her breath. It didn't take a genius to know that whatever she said in Japanese was meant only for Vanessa's ears, most likely meant to piss her off.
"Yokei na osewa da," she berated, turning back to involve herself in conversation with a few others.
I tried not to watch her, instead continuing to talk to Elizabeth and the woman next to her.
Vanessa watched with obvious amusement as my plate was set down in front of me.
The dish was plated with a random leaf and designs from several colored sauces, arranged with suspicious precision.
For thirty-eight dollars, perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised.
Still. It was artwork.
Carefully, I took a bite.
Vanessa let out a soft laugh at how relieved I looked when it tasted delicious.
"Oh," I said before I could stop myself.
The flavors danced on my tongue, unlike anything I'd ever had before.
So this was what rich people liked about places like this.
My attention drifted to Vanessa's plate.
Her meal looked even more unusual than mine. It had colorful rose petals and vegetables or fruits I couldn't recognize. It looked like something straight out of Alice in Wonderland.
Tilting my head curiously, I eyed it like a new art installation, having little idea what to make of it.
"Sweetheart, if you want to try it, you can just ask."
I wasn't going to be rude and make her share when I easily could have been less boring with my choice. "It's just so impressive how they plated it," I answered, intentionally neither rejecting nor accepting her offer. Doing either felt impolite.
She adroitly cut a small piece of her dish and, to my surprise, placed it on the side of my plate.
"I can see the way you're looking at it. Go on, try it," she encouraged, now cutting herself a piece with the same well-mannered ease.
With her encouragement, I brought the fork to my lips. It wasn't as sweet as it looked and instead had a prickly flavor. It was good—like, really good. My eyes lit up as I licked my lips, savoring the flavors.
She raised her eyebrows. "Next time, listen”—her voice dropped an octave—“without questioning me, Evelyn," she added in a whisper.
Everyone else was too busy with the main conversation to overhear the way or words she was speaking to me.
But there was nothing abnormal about them; the only thing abnormal was my reaction.
No one else would be as affected as I was right now over some innocent words that just happened to be so... demanding.
As she talked to other people, I focused on savoring my flavorful appetizer, praying she didn't notice how silent I’d gotten at her words and just assumed the conversation died naturally.
As everyone began ordering drinks that would go with their second course, I glanced at the wine menu, hoping Vanessa would take the hint and help translate.
She did not.
I would've seized the opportunity to try a rare white wine, but Vanessa shot me a sharp warning look the moment the waiter neared me. I likely wouldn't get another opportunity to try traditional French wine. Was she seriously going to object to one glass?
Technically, she couldn't stop me, but I wanted to respect her wishes.
I wasn’t even capable of disobeying her right now.
"No, thank you," I told the waiter politely, before looking back at Vanessa.
I shot her a sarcastic ‘aren't you proud of me?’ Look.
The corner of her mouth twitched.
She mouthed something in return.
I stared.
Surely I hadn't read that correctly.
Good girl.
Now, I was definitely not ordering a drink.
I was more adventurous with the next two courses, and neither dish disappointed me. Spending this much on a meal wasn’t something I’d feel comfortable doing if Lillian hadn't made it exceptionally clear that this amount of money meant nothing to her and that she was glad to treat everyone.
The rest of the night was filled with comfortable small talk and funny stories. The women seemed to like me, and a part of me was hopeful that maybe Vanessa would invite me to go out with them all again—if not alone.
I’d exchanged numbers with several of the women by the end of the night, which felt particularly ironic given that I still didn't have Vanessa's.
It was wonderful to see Vanessa outside of work. Maybe it had been the drinks, but she seemed a bit looser; it was a nice look on her.
As everyone began heading out, she pulled me into another embrace, surrounding me with the familiar scent of vanilla.
"I'm glad you came. I mean it," she whispered into the hug.