1. Chapter 1 #2
She nodded enthusiastically at whatever was said on the other line. I tried to ignore the way my anxious heart palpitated.
“Perfect. See you soon.” She ended the call and tucked her phone back into her purse. “They’re already inside waiting for us.” She grinned, looping her arm through mine. “Let’s go!”
I followed as she zigzagged past the long line of patrons. A few people muttered their irritation as we skipped ahead, but Tara didn’t miss a beat. She pulled me past the host stand and into the restaurant’s elegant, dimly lit dining room.
Crisp white tablecloths, flickering candles, and plush floral arrangements. Several crystal chandeliers hung handsomely along the high ceiling. Ornate artwork adorned the walls. The sound of clinking glasses and soft chatter blended with the rhythmic noise of a metal cocktail shaker.
It was beautiful. Alluring. Expensive looking.
Tara stopped, scanning the room. “There,” she said, pointing.
Two men who looked to be in their late twenties, dressed in business casual, sat at a table in the middle of the room.
One had bright red hair, and the other was bulky and blonde.
They reminded me of some of the frat guys she would flirt with at the parties she’d drag me to throughout the school year–just a little bit older.
Yet something about them immediately sent my spidey-senses tingling in a way that made me want to grab her arm and head straight out the door.
It didn’t matter how good the food smelled around us from nearby tables, my gut was telling me we needed to get the fuck out of there. I reached out to tap Tara’s shoulder, but it was too late.
The blonde noticed us approaching and stood to greet us. I hated the way his gaze lingered at my chest, but his eyes switched to Tara as she reached her hand out to shake his.
I stalled behind her, unsure of what to do next. The redhead, still seated, glanced at me. Up close, I noticed his hair looked greasy and his beady eyes churned into a leer as they dragged up the bare length of my legs. I awkwardly adjusted the hem of my dress as they made their introductions.
We need to leave, a voice in my head urged.
“Tara–” I started.
“You must be Lucy,” the blonde–Chad–cut me off.
“Tara told me you want to be an architect. My buddy here has worked in the field for the past five years. I’m sure there’s tons for the two of you to chat about.
” He winked and bile rose in my throat, but I kept my mouth shut as Tara sat down at the table next to him.
Every instinct in my body was telling me to run, but obviously she was not getting the same vibe. Maybe I just needed to chill out. Get through the date. For Tara, I could do that.
Reluctantly, I pulled out the chair next to the redhead, and he watched as I slid into it. I hitched myself forward so that the tablecloth covered the sliver of my legs where my dress rode up before I turned to him.
“Hi there,” I said with forced cheer. “I’m Lucy.”
He blinked and took my hand with a clammy grip. “Gabe.”
Gross. I resisted the urge to dig the hand sanitizer from my bag as I pulled back. He said nothing else, just took a long sip of the dark drink in front of him.
“Let’s get you ladies some drinks!” Chad said from across the table, taking a swig from the dark liquor in his own glass.
A beautiful waitress with long black hair and bright red lips seemed to hear what he said and stopped at our table.
She balanced a tray filled with empty glassware in her hand, a polite smile plastered to her face.
It faltered a little when she glanced between Chad and Gabe, but she kept her features still as she looked at me and Tara.
“Good evening,” she greeted us with the hint of a southern twang. “Welcome to Ristorante Bellissima. May I get you started with some drinks this evening?”
“How about some champagne, ladies?” Chad jumped in before I could answer. “A bottle for the girls, and another round for us,” he added, motioning between himself and Gabe.
“Actually, I’ll just have a wate–” I tried to interject.
“Excellent,” the waitress cut in before I could finish. “I’ll get that started for you right away.”
She disappeared before I could argue.
I swallowed my frustration. I hated when someone else ordered for me, especially a near-stranger.
I couldn’t afford any wine, and I didn’t feel like drinking anyway.
I wanted to get this bullshit over with.
I kept my mouth shut as Tara and Chad chattered away.
I turned to Gabe, but when I saw he was picking at his cuticles, I decided to look the other way.
I let my gaze drift toward the bar. A lanky blonde bartender moved with effortless grace, flipping bottles, shaking cocktails, and pouring multicolored concoctions into elegant stemware.
He seemed to be having a great time, laughing with customers but never standing still.
Our waitress approached him and he ducked behind the bar for a moment before popping back out with a frosty, chilled bottle.
I tore my eyes away when she started making her way back toward us.
She set two more glasses of the brown liquor in front of Chad and Gabe, then placed empty champagne flutes in front of Tara and me. Behind her, a busser arrived with an ice bucket stand and positioned it beside the table. She balanced the champagne bottle on her arm with practiced elegance.
She twisted the cork with three precise turns until it popped gently, then poured the champagne into our glasses with care.
I watched the bubbles rise, expecting them to spill, but they settled just beneath the rim.
I refused to drink what I didn’t order, but Tara was already sipping the champagne after a quick tap against Chad’s glass.
“Tonight’s special is a fresh seafood cioppino,” she said shortly, avoiding eye contact before placing menus in front of each of us. “Let me know if you have any questions.” She didn’t give us time to ask questions even if we wanted to. She was already moving to the other guests in her section.
I hid myself behind the menu, grateful for a distraction. The dishes sounded beautiful yet unpronounceable. Agnolotti del Plin. L’anatra Arrosto con Risotto Selvatico. I didn’t know what most of it meant, but the ingredients sounded amazing.
I’d never eaten at a place this nice. My parents didn’t have much money, and the only reason I could even go to SFUD for college was because of my scholarship.
My meals were 60 percent instant ramen and 40 percent ice cream.
The menu didn’t have prices on it, but I was starting to get so hungry I didn’t care at this point.
Either the small amount of cash I had would cover what I ordered, or this meal would have to go on my already maxed out credit card.
I seriously needed to find a summer job.
When the waitress returned, I ordered the special and tried to strike a conversation with Gabe despite the unease that plagued my system.
“So, uh, Gabe, you work in architecture?” I coughed as I glanced at Tara from across the table.
Chad had the bottle of bubbles in his hand and was topping off her glass.
Something about his movement didn’t sit right with me.
I wanted to urge her not to drink it, but she had already taken down a big gulp.
I kicked her beneath the table, and she shot me a sideways glance but ignored me as Chad continued talking to her.
“Not exactly,” Gabe said. Okay? Sweat plastered his bright red hair against his forehead, and I tried not to feel queasy. “Aren’t you going to drink that?” He nodded at the full glass in front of me.