Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
EMMA
Walking into Simone’s, I take a quick peek at the tables to see if the other writers are here. I don’t see anyone, meaning they’re probably late.
“May I help you, miss?”
Turning my head to the hostess, I smile and ask her if there’s a reservation under Samantha’s name at eight thirty.
She slides her finger around the touchscreen computer, and I wait, tapping my white stiletto heels, anxious that she won’t find it.
“Here it is. She has a table booked for seven at eight thirty. You’re the first to arrive, but I can seat you while you wait.”
I tilt my head to the side. First one here, and I’m five minutes late. Maybe they got held up at the paper.
“Sure, that’d be great.”
The hostess takes a stack of menus and leads me to the right side of the restaurant, where a round table sits near the booths.
A man—who I’m assuming is the waiter—approaches and pulls out my chair.
I nod in thanks, hang my purse on the corner of the chair, and tuck my dress under me as I sit down.
The hostess hands me the food and drink menu while placing the other ones around the table.
“Your waiter will return soon to take your drink order.”
“Thank you.”
Flipping through the food and drink options, I decide to wait for everyone else to get here before ordering any appetizers, but a glass of wine won’t hurt.
Something my dad taught me is to look for good wine at a restaurant. I scan the menu and see only great wines. However, one in particular stands out to me.
“Good evening.” I look up and see the older man who helped me with my chair a few minutes ago. “Can I get you anything to drink while you wait for your party to arrive?”
I nod. “Yes, please. I’ll take a glass of the Lagrange 2009.”
“Of course, miss.” He starts to walk away when I think about everyone else who’s set to arrive.
“On second thought, make it a bottle and put it on a separate tab, please.”
He bows his head slightly. “Very well, miss.”
I smile and play with the sleeves of my dark blue cocktail dress.
When I was looking through my closet, I knew I had to find a nice look for the restaurant, but didn’t want to come off as trying too hard.
This dress is understated with a semi-high neckline and reaches mid-thigh.
Pairing it with braided hair and white stilettos was a perfect combo.
The waiter brings the bottle of wine, uncorks it, and pours a glass for me. I take a sip of the dry red wine and immediately know what I’m going to order.
My phone vibrates on the table, and I look to see a text from Kami. I haven’t seen her since her birthday two nights ago, and our schedules have been so hectic.
Kami: Hey, are you up for a girls’ night in?
Me: Can’t, sorry. I’m at Simone’s waiting for my coworkers. Rain check?
Kami: Ooo fancy. And sure, I’m just happy they finally invited you out. See you tomorrow. Love you xoxo.
Me: Love you too xoxo.
Checking the time on my phone, I see that it’s eight fifty, and I wonder if I forgot about an emergency meeting at the paper.
I send my first-ever text to Ben. He’s the only person on the paper I’ve gotten the number from, which, in hindsight, wasn’t a great move. I should’ve asked Samantha for hers.
Me: Hey, it’s Emma. I was wondering if there was an emergency meeting at the newsroom tonight?
I set my phone back on the table while waiting for his response. Thursdays can be hectic at the paper. Heck, any day can be. I’ve spent long nights there until one in the morning, but that’s only when we’re behind, or a big story has broken out at the last minute.
My phone screen lights up as I’m sipping my second glass of wine.
Ben: Hey, Em. Nope, nothing to report here. It was an early afternoon. No big stories on campus this week.
Reading his message again, I check the time and see that it’s nearly nine.
I’ve been here for almost half an hour, and the waiter has come by twice since pouring me the first glass of wine to ask if I wanted something to eat while I waited.
The kitchen closes in half an hour, and they’re still not here yet.
What the hell is going on?
Me: Did you see Samantha and the other reporters when you left?
Today was one of those days when I had to leave early to finish some homework before getting ready to come here. Before I left, I confirmed the time and place with one of the writers for tonight. They reassured me that all the info I had was correct and that they’d see me later.
Ben: She stopped by to drop off her work for tomorrow, but only stayed for a couple of minutes, saying she had a date with some guy or something along those lines.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
I’m getting stood up…and it’s by my coworkers?
Me: Thanks for letting me know, Ben. Sorry I bothered you so late.
Ben: Is everything okay?
Definitely not.
Me: All good! Just a misunderstanding about a deadline.
Ben: If you need any help, I’m here.
Me: Thanks, Ben.
I slam the phone down and rub my hands down my dress.
Was this some kind of prank? I should’ve known better than to trust her. She’s never been kind to me, but what about the other five reporters? Why? I’ve never been anything but courteous to them.
How could I be so blind? I bite my lip to hold back the tears gathering behind my eyes.
I will not cry. I. Will. Not. Cry.
My thoughts are interrupted when the waiter comes back.
“The kitchen will be closing in fifteen minutes, miss. Would you like to order something before then?”
Clearing my throat and wiping away the lone tear that’s fallen, I look back at the bottle of wine I ordered. A three-hundred-dollar bottle of wine. Thank God I didn’t order the most expensive one on the menu.
It’s sad to see it go to waste, but it’s even more tragic to drink it alone.
I look up to the kind waiter whose name tag has been hidden until now. “I’ll just take the check, please, Charles.”
He bows his head, and I see the pity in his eyes.
I turn around to hide from the few people left at the restaurant.
It’s quiet, and it seems like only two couples are left.
I thank whoever’s watching over me for that.
That is, until I hear a group of men laughing, coming from what seems to be the back of the restaurant, where special events are usually held. Their deep chuckles catch me off guard.
The back room must have thick walls and doors to hide those kinds of laughs and voices. Then again, I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings while getting stood up.
I keep facing forward and tip my glass, pouring myself my last glass of wine for the night.
I’m about to take a sip when I look up at the ceiling, where a small chandelier hangs. I lift the glass just a little, thinking of my cousin. “To you, Charlotte.” I take a big gulp. “I’d appreciate it if you’d show me a sign that this semester will be better than it is now.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, Charles’s shadow appears. Only when I look up, I don’t see a short sixty-year-old man, but a six-foot-three, perfectly shaped body.
“Professor Hayes?”