What happens in vegas

Chapter 5

I walk through the door of the fanciest restaurant ever. I'm still wearing my clothes from work, but it's a skirt so who cares. I did remove my glasses and let my hair down though. I go to the hostess "Mr. Draven's table please?"

The hostess leads me to a back room with fewer tables that are more private. With the exception of the wait staff, I'm alone in the dark and intimate room. "Can I get you a drink, miss?" The waiter asks.
I smile. "Do you have strawberry lemonade?" The waiter nods and walks away. I check my watch. I'm a few minutes early, but Mr. Draven, Fredrick is a punctual person.

I look over the menu while I wait. There are fancy dishes that I've never heard of. What catches my eye the most is that there are no prices.

"Have you been waiting long?" Fredrick sits across from me. "Not at all. I've only ordered a drink."

The waiter brings my lemonade and a drink for Fredrick. He must have ordered it when he walked in. Fredrick unbuttons his suit jacket, but leaves it on. He pulls out the black ring box. "I would like you to wear your ring so other men know you are off limits." I guess that's a reasonable request. I slip it on. My hand feels noticeably heavier. The waiter comes over to take our orders. I pick up the menu again. I can feel Fredrick watching me. I glance at him and he smirks. I haven't made up my mind when I hear "the usual" from Fredrick.

I place the menu down. "What's the usual?"
He takes a quick drink his eyes never leave my face. "Beef Wellington and scotch."
I nod. "I'll have the Wellington also, no scotch for me." The waiter nods then leaves us. "I want to thank you for taking care of my father."

He shakes his head. "It was part of the deal."

I sip my lemonade. "No, it wasn't. Paying off the medical debt, yes. But moving him to a closer, better, facility was not. So, again, thank you."

He nods. "You're welcome."

The silence feels awkward so I think of a new topic. "You must come here pretty often."

He raises his eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

I give him my duh look. "The usual? I wonder how many other people have a usual."

He shrugs his shoulder. "It's the best." The waiter brings our food and it look amazing. It looks like a dish you see on the celebrity chef cooking shows. "Are you going to take a picture of it?" Fredrick asks.

"Why would I take a picture of it?" Weirdo.

"So you can post it." He puts a bite into his mouth.

"I'd rather just eat it." I say as I take a bite. My mouth dances with flavor, no wonder it's his usual. The meat is tender and juicy. I'm practically humming, it is that good. I almost want to close my eyes and focus just on the food in my mouth. In no time I've already eaten one of the two pieces on my plate. I take a sip of my lemonade and quickly regret it.

I must have made a noise or a face because Fredrick asks; "what's wrong?"

I wipe my mouth before answering. "My lemonade. It tastes funky with the Wellington."

Fredrick signals for the waiter. "What would you like instead?"

I bite my lip. "I don't know. What goes good with it?" Fredrick raises his glass and gives me his 'duh' face. I crinkle my nose and shake my head. "Perhaps try a red wine."
I shake my head again. "I don't drink alcohol. A dear friend of mine was killed by a drunk driver, so I don't..." Fredrick nods his head in understanding. In the end I settle with water.

Our meal goes by smoothly. We chat about random things. Fredrick is and was raised by his father. His mother was a model and she left to pursue her career, before overdosing on crack. He took over the business from his father when he was
tell him about my Dad. He's a Lieutenant Colonel. He finished tours in Iraq and Afghanistan before my mother left him because of his PTSD. He wasn't diagnosed and was able to take another tour, where he took shrapnel to his spine. He's paralyzed from the waist down and one if his arms is weak. His mental health is what keeps him in the facility. "When do I get to meet him?" Fredrick asks.