Atlas
I fucking hate KFC.
Not only do I know there is better chicken out there than what they serve here, but it's too...cheap.
I already have more money than I know what to do with it, why the hell would I spend a little amount on food I can get for better somewhere else?
"Because you don't need to pay $500 to even get inside." Sierra's words come back to me from the very last time she made me come here.
I'd much rather pay my way inside a great restaurant than eat at a restaurant that's open for everyone. Everyone but rich people, apparently. And the tips they're expecting of me here...god, might as well buy the whole menu twice.
But what's even worse are the people in here taking pictures of my wife and me. They all think I don't notice them taking some, but I do.
Now, I know I'm not some big celebrity, but people in Seattle and close around know me. They know my name and face to it. It's not that hard to have heard of me as I own almost every business here. Almost.
Just as Sierra and I take a seat, I can see one of the employees talk to another, pointing into our direction. I'm not sure why Sierra likes to come here.
"You probably don't know what to get, am I right?" Sierra smiles at me. It's a smile that instantly lets me forget we're at KFC and not some five-star restaurant I'd rather take her to.
"I surprisingly don't."
She chuckles, then quickly presses her lips to mine. "I'll go order for us. Don't yell at random people while I'm gone, okay?"
While she's gone? Where the hell does she think she's going?
As though she could read my mind—which she probably can—Sierra laughs. "You walk up to the register, order and they'll call out your number once your food is done."
So they're lazy too? What am I tipping for?
I grab her wrist, pulling Sierra back towards me as she's about to walk away. "Let me come with you." She shakes her head, still having a smile plastered on her face.
Normally I'd love this smile, but I know it's only there because she is aware of the people around us. She's well aware of people taking pictures and soon selling them to magazines. If Sierra doesn't smile in those pictures, the tabloids will talk me bad once again.
Like the do so very often when they get pictures of my wife, kids and me.
On Allie's birthday, for instance, Sierra and I took Allie and Vienna to a waterpark. Vienna started crying because she was too overwhelmed with all these people around. Now guess what the tabloids said?
They chose a picture of Vienna crying next to me, holding onto her favourite stuffed animal for dear life. Since I wasn't hugging my child and looked sort of annoyed, the headline read "Atlas Storm beats his daughters."
Like I would ever do that.
I know they get a hell lot of money out of this, but it's not fucking true.
The truth behind that picture; I was looking for Vienna's pacifier because I knew that would calm her down.
Sierra and I tried getting her off that thing for a while but as she wasn't even two yet and it did happen to soothe her, it was the way to go. All I wanted was to get Vienna to stop crying, and they made it out as though I was abusing my children.
Anyway, and picture of Sierra not smiling when we're together ends up talking me bad.
Yet another reason why I prefer my fancy and expensive restaurants. Privacy is valued there.
Sierra comes back, grinning mischievously.
"What did you do?" I ask, taking her hand in mine as she sits down next to me.
"I found out they sell salads here. So I got you a boneless banquet box meal."
I blink at my wife. "That doesn't sound like a salad."
Her grin widens, though in order to hide it, Sierra leans her head against my shoulder. "You're right. It's not. But you'll love it."
"I don't think I will." I bring her hand up to my mouth, kissing her knuckles. "Good thing my wife is like a trashcan when it comes to these foods."
Sierra laughs but it tones down when a group of eight walks into KFC, laughing and screaming, singing even. Heads turn towards them, eyebrows drawn together as though they're the biggest, yet most annoying attraction ever.
One of the eight women wears a bride-to-be sash, which is why I strongly assume this is their idea of a bachelorette party. Yet...while everyone of her friends, or whoever the other women might be to her, chant and laugh, the bride-to-be looks more worried than happy.
"let's make it a challenge," one of the women says, sounding a bit drunk. "We all order a menu that's supposed to be a shared one, and whoever doesn't finish will have to wear crazy earrings for the wedding!"
All of the other six women agree, except for one. The one not agreeing keeps awfully quiet, staring at the menu. I could swear sweat is dripping down her face as she reads the prices. "How about we get something less pricey?" bride-to-be asks. "This night has been more than expensive already."
"C'mon, Mira. You'll only ever have one bachelorette party!"
I look at Sierra, her expression falls as she hears the brunette woman talk. "I don't want to assume, but I do think their bride-to-be does not want to spend even more money." That's what it sounds like. "Oh god," Sierra gasps. "What if she just doesn't have enough for tonight and she's too embarrassed to say it?"
Sighing, I hand Sierra my credit card. "You know, if you want to pay for them, you have your own credit card."
She shakes her head. "It's still your credit card. You gave it to me and never wanted it back." Should I remember that?
"What card did I give you?"
Sierra laughs. "Your american express black card? Like, on the day I told you I was pregnant with Allie."
Nope, doesn't ring a bell. "I was that generous?"
She slaps a hand to my arm which causes me to smile. I can faintly hear someone gasp before a camera clicking is to be heard. Sierra and I both turn towards the sound, looking annoyed. We've both had it with these people.
"God, I hate them," Sierra says as we watch Sir Take-pictures run away like he'd never done anything. "What do you think will the tabloids say?"
I chuckle, turning around to look at my wife. "Probably that I'm so bad, my wife beats me and I get off on it."
Sierra raises her eyebrows before her eyes land on my crotch. She's about to speak when our number is being called. I give her a sweet and innocent kiss before I walk off to get our food. Sierra ordered, so I'll go grab it.
As I walk up to the register, about to pay, I notice the bride-to-be, Mira I think was it, standing next to me. She lets out a deep breath before shaking herself out. Her eyes land on the two one hundred dollar bills in her hands, then back up to the price lists.
Can't fucking believe I'm about to do what I'm about to do.
"That'll be $25.98, Mr. Storm," the cashier tells me, smiling at me softly. Anxiously.
I can feel miss bride-to-be stare at me and when I turn my head to look at her, I notice the realisation on her face. Of course she would know who I am.
I turn back to the cashier, handing her my credit card. "I'm paying for her order as well," I say and point at miss bride-to-be.
She gasps, shaking her head. "You can't do that, Mr. Storm. That's far too much."
I take the tray with Sierra and my food, turning back to Mira. "Congratulation on getting married."
"Thank you. But, Mr. Storm, I mean it. I can't accept that from my boss."
Boss? Now that's interesting. I can work with that. "See it as your wedding gift. Every single one of my employees receives one of those." I may not be the nicest to my employees, but I am not an asshole.
Most of my employees receive triple their monthly income as a wedding gift. That is, if I know they're getting married. They're not always handing in the real reason for their absence.
Anyway, I know how expensive weddings can be, plus honeymoon and such...it's the least I can do. The amount of extra money always depends on what they make monthly.
As I get my credit card back, I go back to my wife. Sierra smiles at me widely. "Look at you being all nice."
—
As soon as we get back home, I blurt out the one question that has been lingering in my head ever since the bachelorette party of Mira's stormed inside of the restaurant. "Do you feel bad we've never had an actual wedding?"
Sierra shakes her head instantly. "We had one."
"We didn't," I object. "You can't count a yacht, some guests and you not having any other choice as a real wedding."
Sierra takes my hand in hers, interlocking our fingers. "I did have a choice, and I chose to marry you. You paid god knows what for the venue, and we actually got married. It was a real wedding, Atlas."
I strongly disagree. "We didn't even stay."
Sierra shrugs. "In all honesty?" I nod. "I did wish for a better one. I was upset that I didn't get the kind of wedding I was dreaming to have. But then I remembered that I never really even envisioned getting married in the first place, Atlas."
"Hypothetically, if we were to get married in a week or so, what would you imagine it to be like?" Sierra tips over on the couch, laughing like my question is the most ridiculous one she's ever heard. "What's so funny?"
"You."
My eyebrows knit together. "How so?"
"'Hypothetically,'" she air-quotes. "You asking like that means I'll be getting it."
"Yes."
"No, Atlas." Sierra sits up, crawling onto my lap, straddling my legs. "I don't want a second wedding. Our first one was as perfect as it could have been. I don't want to replace this unique memory with another." She brings her hands up to my face, holding it. "Though I would like a real proposal."
I smile. "That I can do. What would you like? Dinner and roses in the office?"
Sierra scrunches up her nose, shaking her head. "A proposal on a rollercoaster sounds exciting."
"You're out of your mind, wife." She shrugs like it's not surprise to her. "Might just take you out to Disneyland and propose there."
"Too basic. How about in the ocean."
"In the ocean?" I repeat, needing to make sure I understood that correctly.
"Yes. We're going for a dive and then, boom, you propose."
Interesting...but not good enough. I need something...more valuable.