No Surrender | Eddie Munson

Chapter Twenty-Eight: You Win

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: YOU WIN

DIAMONDS ON THE SOLES OF HER SHOES — PAUL SIMON

She was physically forgotten
Then she slipped into my pocket
With my car keys
She said you've taken me for granted
Because I please you
Wearing these diamonds

TW// Alcohol, drunk character

——————

The car screeches to a halt on the curb. Almost tripping over my long skirt and heels, I do a half-hobble, half-sprint towards the restaurant. Dusk shade is quickly replaced by warm, atmospheric lighting. My sudden appearance turns a few heads.

Remembering the purpose of tonight, I take a deep breath before strutting towards the front desk with my head held high. My black nails — freshly painted during red lights and stop signs — somehow add to my confidence and I ring the bell. A rather snooty-looking man in a smart suit answers, "Welcome to Enzo's, Ma'am. Seven o'clock, I presume. What name is your table under?"

"Munson... Sir. O-Or perhaps Smith?"

He looks me up and down, as if trying to assess some kind of nagging detail in my appearance. "Well, which is it?"

My resolve is wavering. I look around the restaurant, my gaze landing on a familiar set of silver rings peeking around a menu in the far corner of the restaurant. The smile that takes over is immediate. "Never mind. I see him."

I start forwards but a tap on my shoulder pauses my movements. "May I have your keys?"

"Huh?"

He raises a grey brow. "Your car keys. For the valet."

"The what?"

His patience is wearing thin but he keeps a tight smile. "The valet, Ma'am. He will park your car for you. Don't worry, you'll get them back once you are finished."

My façade is already crumbling. Awkwardly handing over Robin's keys with a wince at the sharp jangling of at least a dozen sports team keyrings. I point the way and allow myself to be led to my table.

Eddie lowers his menu. We both pause, taking in each other's appearances. He wears a black and white tuxedo complete with the bowtie — something that looks so incredibly alien on him. He has clearly made an effort with his hair, too. His usual mane is far more tamed and some more defined ringlets shine with what I assume is some kind of gel. The rings and a thick chain around his wrist do well to add a little more of his personality to the outfit.

He lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank fu— God. Thank God." Grimacing, he waits for the man to leave before speaking again. "Thought you might've forgotten or something."

I am grateful for the blush already tinging my cheeks when he suddenly jumps up, racing around — still in his Reeboks — to pull out my chair. "Such a gentleman."

"Finally!" A few patrons send him scathing looks on his way back to his own seat. "I mean... of course. I-Indubitably."

"Guess that's the whole point of this, right? Act fancy, see if we last the night without you getting us kicked out."

The boy raises his eyebrows, amused by my remark. He slouches lower into his seat. "Oh, yeah. 'Cause I'm totally the one who flailed when they asked for the keys."

With a loud groan, I bury my face in my hands. "God, I felt so stupid!"

"'Stupid' is you driving here. You can leave that car here tonight, I'm taking you home. And don't you dare say—"