Page 23

23

PATRICK

I t’s been two days since I’ve seen Michael and over a week since we had our sexy shower. I'm getting twitchy for more. We’ve planned a romantic dinner at a fancy restaurant. Honestly, I was hoping for something more affordable since I'm on a budget, but when I suggested McDonald's, he offered to pay.

Never one to turn down a free meal, I also don’t want to seem like a mooch. I would agree to pay anything if I had to, but I don’t want to blow my entire food budget on one meal and eat ramen noodles at home for the next week. Thankfully, Michael is a gentleman and offered to pay. I have to plan exactly how I’m going to make it up to him. Judging from our last shower encounter, I have an idea of what he likes.

My stomach rumbles because I haven’t eaten all day. Not only am I too nervous to eat, but the shirt I plan on wearing is one sandwich away from not fitting. If I'm going to bust out of this shirt, I’d better be in the middle of a good time. Flashes of Michael’s sexy, wet, muscular body fill my mind. That man is an Adonis, but he doesn’t even seem to know it—making him even hotter in my eyes.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I finish putting a bit of gel in my hair. Not too much, but enough that I won’t have to worry about it the rest of the day. Clearing the counter of products, I shut the vanity drawer and take a long hard look at myself in the mirror. It’s not about making sure my hair is perfect, my skin is moisturized, or my shirt is pressed properly. I look into my own eyes, into my soul, concentrating on my feelings and wants.

Staring back at me is a man who has never felt true love before, never experienced more than a couple of dates with the same person before running away or being turned off by the other man’s opinions, quirks, or mommy issues. There’s a sadness in my eyes I hadn’t noticed before. It’s not sagging skin or wrinkles; I’m far too young for that. It’s a feeling inside me wanting to emerge.

Is that hope?

It’s not that I need a man to feel happy or content, but there’s definitely something about finding your own person. Someone who loves you and whom you love back. A man who thinks about you when you’re not around, looks forward to seeing you when he has to work late. So, while Michael isn’t the reason for my happiness, like in some kind of movie-land fairytale, he’s someone who gives me hope. Hope that I can have what I want in a partner.

The alarm buzzes on my phone. It’s time to meet Michael at the Fortune Garden. I’ve never eaten there, mostly due to the price and the fact that there’s always a waitlist to get inside since they opened three months ago. I don’t know how he managed it, but Michael says he knows a guy and we have a table for two. I grab my keys and rush out of the apartment. I lock the door behind me and pause for a moment.

I still don’t feel safe at the apartment since my keys were stolen, but there haven’t been any more incidents of break- ins or murders. Granted, the police haven’t solved anything, but maybe whoever was guilty of the crimes has moved on somewhere else. Either way, I’m ready for a nice Chinese dinner and no one is going to stop me from seeing Michael tonight.

Shit, I have twenty minutes to get there and on a good day the GPS says eighteen. Fingers crossed, I hop into the car and speed away from the curb. After breaking at least a few laws along the way, I make it to the restaurant just in the nick of time to meet my law enforcement boyfriend. The irony of this is not lost on me as I hurry to the front door.

Once inside, my vision quickly adjusts to the low light in the waiting area.

“Do you have a reservation?” a beautiful young hostess asks.

I’m about to answer when Michael steps over to me and wraps an arm around my back, pulling me into him. “He’s with me.”

As I look up at him, he leans down and kisses me on the lips. Sparks fly just as they have every time our lips meet. He pulls away and addresses the hostess once again, while I continue to gawk at him like a love-struck fool. I can’t see myself, but I swear I’m having an out-of-body experience.

“We have a table for two,” Michael says. “The name is Borne and the reservations were made by Mr. Fong.”

She nods and smiles. “It would be my pleasure to seat you. Please follow me.” The hostess takes us to our seats, motioning for us to sit. “Your waiter is Ethan, and he will be here momentarily.”

“Thank you,” we both say as she turns and walks away.

“How did you get us reservations for this place?” I ask. “This has been the most exclusive restaurant since it opened in West Hollywood months ago.”

“Mr. Fong told me that I will always have a standing reservation under his name.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“I caught the man who murdered his wife,” Michael says, leaning closer so he can whisper the rest. “His wife was killed by the Yakuza. They’re basically the Japanese version of the mafia.”

“And you solved her murder?” I put my hand over my mouth for a second. “That’s incredible… and dangerous. I can only imagine.”

He nods. “The main thing is Mr. Fong and his children are safe now. I wish we would have known she had a hit out on her life earlier so we could have tried to prevent it from happening in the first place.”

“Oh, man.” I sit back in my chair. “I almost wish we had this reservation for another reason. That’s intense.”

“I know,” he says. “I’ve learned as a detective that all our lives are fragile. It takes one person to upend what we have and change our existence forever. Honestly, it’s taken me a while to learn to let things go… allow bad things to happen that are out of my control. No one can stop everything bad from happening. My goals are now to help as many as I can, feel content with the good I can do, and keep those close to me safe.” His eyes linger on me a little longer with that last statement.

He’s referring to me when he speaks of keeping those close to him safe. My belly flutters with butterflies again. Usually, I avoid things that make me nervous, but this is different. The attraction I feel for him is on a level I’ve never felt before and it’s intoxicating.

“Good evening,” the waiter says as he walks up to the table, menus in hand. He opens and hands us each one before beginning his spiel. “My name is Ethan, and I’ll be your waiter this evening. Have either of you been here before?”

I shake my head no, but Michael just smiles and says, “We’d love to hear about the specials.”

“You’re in for a treat tonight, I can assure you,” he says, without opening a menu to reference. “Our special tonight is Kobe beef. It is served shabu-shabu, with a side of sticky rice, imported vegetables, and traditional ramen. I can give you a few minutes to look over the menus if you need?”

I glance across the table to Michael who isn’t even holding his menu. “Did you already know what you’re going to have?”

“Usually, I stick with the special and tonight’s sounds delicious.”

Ethan turns to me with expectant eyes. Clearly, it’s I who will either hold up the show or go with the flow. “I guess we will both be having tonight’s special.”

“Fantastic,” Ethan says. “You won’t be disappointed, I can assure you.” He points at the menu in my hands. “If you turn to the back, there is a list of wines, spirits, and traditional fare.”

“I’ll let Michael order that for us,” I say.

He smiles and addresses the waiter. “We will have your sake, warm, and two waters, please.”

“Perfect choice,” Ethan says with a slight bow of the head. He turns on his heel and hurries away from the table.

“Shabu-shabu?” I ask.

“It’s how the Kobe beef is prepared. Thinly sliced and flash-boiled in water. It tastes like butter. I promise.”

Someone comes by and drops off water at the table. I take the glass and sip the filtered water. “Nicer water than I get at the apartment, that’s for sure. I think they use the same reverse osmosis system we do at the club.”

“I can’t believe Los Angeles thinks the water we drink out of the tap is healthy. There’s got to be a higher than allowed level of chlorine at the very least.”

I take a moment to look around the restaurant. People of all ages, races, and backgrounds are enjoying their food while soft Japanese music and the faint sounds of nature play. The one thing everyone seems to have in common, other than me, is money. There’s no way a working schlep like myself would set foot in here if they had to actually pay for their meal. Sudden panic sets in. I didn’t even check the menu for the price of my meal—not that a place like this has dollar amounts listed. Shit, I know he said he was going to pay, but this is too much to ask. I feel a little uncomfortable.

“Is everything alright?” Michael asks. “You look worried.” He turns and looks over his shoulder for a moment. “Is someone here making you feel uncomfortable?”

Should I just lie? Or be honest and explain that I will probably never be able to afford to take him out for a meal like this? I hear Tina’s voice in the back of my head telling me to be honest. If you really like this guy, don’t start figuring out ways to lie to him already. Save that for when you’re married and you spend too much online and have to hide the packages as they’re delivered in the mail.

“I hate that you are going to pay for dinner and I will never be able to pay you back by doing the same… at least not in a place like this.” There it is. I’m being honest and vulnerable. Probably, for the first time this early on in a relationship.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t comfortable paying. Not to mention, there’s something sexy about getting to pamper you like this.”

I try to cover my smile with my napkin, but there’s no way he can’t see my blush even in the low lighting.

“Hope that’s okay with you?” he adds.

Reaching across the table, I take his hand in mine. We look into each other’s eyes, and I swear I see him blush a little bit too.

“What do we have here?” A skinny, flushed-faced Twink in tight jeans and a half-shirt says as he walks up to our table.

I pull my hand away from Michael’s and turn to the intruder. I’m about to ask him if he’s lost or needs directions to the nearest STD clinic, but the twit speaks first.

“Michael,” he says. “I can’t believe you haven’t returned my phone calls.”

He knows Michael?

The intruder continues, “There’s still time to make me an honest man, big guy. The last time I saw you, you were practically begging for it.” He turns and glances at me before he addresses Michael again. “Don’t tell me you’re cheating on me with that.”

Michael’s dating him? What the fuck?

I stand and toss my napkin on the table.

“No,” Michael says, holding up his hand toward me trying to get me to stop. “It’s not what you think. I’ve...”

“Save it,” I say. “I should have known this was too good to be true. People like you and me… it never works out.” I grab the water glass on the table, toss it in the intruder’s face, and walk away.

As I leave, I hear Michael say, “Blake. We are not together. What the hell are...”

I pick up the pace and leave before I can hear any more. What’s the point? Clearly, they had a thing and Michael is trying to keep it a secret. Weirder scenarios have happened, why am I so shocked by this one?

As I walk down the sidewalk, I book a ride-share to pick me up at the next stoplight. By the time I arrive, it’s there waiting for me. After opening the door, I look back toward the restaurant, half expecting Michael to be running down the street to stop me from leaving.

Nothing but streetlights and car headlights zooming past. I get into the vehicle and shut the door. Another chapter in my life now closed as well. Fuck my life. I really thought this was going to be something.