Psychiatrists

Ch. 3: Girls' Night Out

    After changing and doing our makeup, Rachel and I hopped in my car and drove to the restaurant. Rachel had chosen a sleek, sparkly black dinner dress, while I had picked out a navy blue cocktail dress. Throw in some classy jewelry, and I'd say we looked rather fabulous.
    We pulled up to the hotel, but there was no parking lot in sight. I was about to panic when a valet came up and informed me that he would take my car to the parking lot behind the building. Oh. Well, excuse me for being a commoner!
    It took about half an hour to finally be seated. To celebrate that achievement alone, we ordered a whole bottle of Moscato Primo.
    "Hey Rach, did ya hear the news?" I asked, taking a sip of my wine.
    "What news?"
    "You know..." I lowered my voice. "About you-know-who..." When she stared at me blankly, I sighed. "Bruce Wayne, hellooo?"
    "Oh!" Her face scrunched up, as if she were disgusted by the name. "Yes... I heard...."
    "I'm surprised you haven't gone to see him yet," I remarked. "From all the stories you told me about him, I would've thought you'd be spending your evening with him instead of me."
   "Well, I've been busy," she snapped. I looked at her in shock, taken aback by her random outburst. She saw my expression and turned guilty. "Sorry..." she mumbled. "Anyways, let's figure out what to eat!"
    We glanced over the menu about 50 times. Eventually I decided to be a bit bold and ordered grilled salmon, while Rachel played it safe and went with chicken parmesan.
    "Sooo," I began as we ate, "Is there a particular reason why you seem a bit testy Mistah Wayne?" She sighed, and set her fork down.
    "It's just.... Seven years, Sasha. He's been gone seven years without any contact, and then he just shows up! It's like he thinks nothing's changed. I don't know whether to be happy or angry!"
    "Well Rachel... If it were me, I'd give him a chance. Yes, you'll have every right to be angry at him if he acts like nothing's different. But, you shouldn't immediately be hostile for his lack of contact. You don't know what he's been through the past seven years. Maybe he was someplace he had no way to contact you!"
    "You really think so?"
    "Trust me, hon. You can't judge a person for their actions until you know the motives behind it."
    "Ok, ok," she laughed, "Sheesh, you sounded like my law school teacher just then!"
    "Great minds think alike!" I teased.
    "Oh shush!" We laughed, not caring if we drew any attention to ourselves. This was our night to have a bit of fun.
    Rachel asked me if I wanted to get a dessert. I took a peek at the dessert menu... and was appalled.
    "15 dollars?!" I nearly shouted. "Who pays $15 for a piece of cake?!"
    "Ok, now that's just ridiculous," Rachel retorted, disgusted.
    "I'll say!" I huffed, tossing the little menu across the table. "Forget that!"
    "Hey ladies," a voice purred. We both slowly looked up to see a guy in a cheap suit hovering over us. "Who is this prick?" I thought.
    "Ummm. Can we help you??" I asked slowly.
    "You can help me... by letting me buy you girls a drink," he responded, apparently attempting to be flirtatious. I gave Rachel a look that said, "Is this guy for real?"
    "Sorry," she lamented. Reaching across the table and grabbing my hand suddenly, she gazed up at the prick innocently. "Hate to break it to you, but we're kinda, you know, together."
    Whaaaa??? When did we reach that stage?! Rachel winked and mouthed, "Play along." I stared at her in confusion for a hot second before realizing her game. Oh.
    "Yeah," I continued, matching Rachel's innocent look. "You shouldn't waste your time." If we said that we didn't care for guys like him, he'd just come up with something lame like, "we've never met a guy like him." Might as well just say we don't care for guys at all.
    We watched with amusement as the wannabe gentleman's expression deflated. He mumbled an apology, and scurried away. Rachel and I looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
    "Oh my God," she cried, "That guy actually thought he had a chance!"
    "I know," I giggled, "He's not even close to my type."
    "Oh yeah?" Rachel took a gulp of wine. "Pray tell," she inquired, "What's your type? You've never told me."
    "Oh, you know..." I drawled. "Charming, calm, cool and collected. A bit on the mysterious side... Someone who can read me; someone perceptive. If they're loyal and have a romantic side to boot, I'll be sold."
    We finished up our wine, split the check, and exited the building. I offered to drive Rachel home while the valet fetched my car. She accepted quite eagerly.
    "I have no doubt that I've made an enemy out of Falcone for prosecuting his men," she explained, "So I'd rather not travel by myself unless I have my taser with me."
    After she said that, I was definitely taking her home. I would never forgive myself if she got hurt when I could've done something to change it. Once the valet handed me my keys, we were gone.

    "So like I said before, I'll fax you the warrant you need to examine Zsasz," Rachel said as I pulled into her driveway. "It should be in your office when you get there in the morning.
    "Alright, alright," I sighed. "I can't believe I'm actually going to do this."
    "You'll be great!" she reassured me, "And I promise, I'll never ask you for another favor this big."
    "I'll hold you to that!" Rachel laughed and leaned over to hug me. I gave her a quick squeeze before shooing her out of the car. She waved goodbye and headed to her front door. I waited until she was inside before I drove away.
    Upon crashing into bed, I should've fallen asleep instantly. Instead, I spent about two hours lying wide awake; my train of thought going about 60 mph.
    I'd never done something like this before. Honestly, I felt like a bit of a baby for freaking out over a task that was really quite trivial. I told myself that it was no big deal, and that Dr. Crane couldn't be as horrible as Rachel made him out to be. Finally, after repeating that about 20 times, I was lulled into dreamland, alleviated from my worries for the next 8 hours.