Of course I wasn't noteworthy enough to merit an audience with Casanova himself. I hadn't proved myself yet, and Mark was still suspicious.
I had a name, though-- Mark. Not much, but to me it was a guarantee that we'd speak again, and that was good enough for me. He'd taken my number and disappeared after saying he'd be in contact soon.
I'd been on edge until I got his text Saturday afternoon.
6pm. Tell me where to meet you.
Short and sweet. I responded within seconds, only realizing it probably made me look too eager once I'd hit send. Oh well.
Ricky's on Ash and 4th.
He'd meet Lana, he'd hear me out. If she and her cooking couldn't convince him to team up, no one could.
So now I was sitting at a table in Ricky's, watching the door that refused to spit Mark through. Lana was busy in the back, for the most part; and though she eyed me with sharp curiosity when she made it to the front, she didn't get a chance to interrogate me. A shaggy-haired kid with an apron that I'd never met before had brought me a coke ten minutes ago, and the glass was sweating as much as I was.
I was about to text Mark when he strolled in and, with barely a glance at his surroundings, headed straight to my table. He dragged the chair back and sat.
"Talk."
I blinked at him.
"You don't want to order first?" I asked after a pause.
"Not hungry. We won't be here long enough anyway."
Another pause stretched between us. Well then.
"Okay. Well." I cleared my throat. Now that it was time, I wasn't quite sure where to begin.
"I'm willing to bet you aren't a huge fan of Platt."
Mark grunted, his eyebrow lifting in an impatient twitch. I took a rushed breath and continued.
"Well the artists aren't the only group of people he's upsetting. Local business owners--"
"You mean the biggest supporters of the anti-graffiti movement?" Mark's condescending eyebrow was beginning to grate on my nerves. "That'd be the entrepreneurs. But, yeah, continue."
I glared at him. I was about to give him a piece of my mind when the shaggy-haired kid approached our table.
Mark lifted his hand. "We don't--"
"Two burgers with everything, please," I interrupted, my glare never leaving Mark.
He shot me an irritable frown. "I'm vegetarian."
"Then make it a veggie burger." I stared back at him. I was determined to regain the upper hand; I was done being talked down to.
He glared back at me but didn't argue. The kid left, promising it'd be quick.
I tilted my head. "You obviously don't like me, but Casanova wants to hear me out; so that means you get to shut up and listen."
Mark's eyes darkened for a split second, but then a tiny grin split his face.
"Alright." He leaned back in his favorite lazy position, crossing his ankles under the table. "I'll listen."
I paused, sipping my coke.
"I brought you here for a reason."
Mark still didn't look up at his surroundings.
"The woman behind the bar owns the place. She may hate Platt more than you."
"Unlikely," Mark muttered. But his eyes darted to the bar to land on Lana. "So she asked you to track us down?"
I shook my head. "She has no idea. She's just a huge Casanova admirer-- because of his responses to Platt."
"So, what then?" asked Mark.
"I think you guys should work together."
Mark's lips curled again, this time into an arrogant smirk. "I don't think she has much to offer us. She's not exactly a landmark."
"Make her one," I shot back.
Mark still looked doubtful. "This place..." He finally looked around and I saw it through his eyes. It was just a greasy diner, half-full on a Saturday night with dingy yellow lighting and sticky surfaces.
"It wouldn't hurt to try, would it?" I asked.
Mark's eyebrow was back to twitching. I was pretty sure it'd get stuck like that if he didn't quit.
"Right now, Cas can't take any chances. He's being scrutinized, he's being hunted," Mark leaned forward. "He doesn't have time to hand out favors to every local business owner around." He stood, pushing the chair back.
"Thanks for your time," he said with an ironic twist of his lips, "but I think it's time I head out. Hope you enjoy your burgers."
I didn't move. I wasn't going to chase him down, I wasn't going to look desperate. I said what I'd wanted to say and in the end, it wasn't enough.
Mark had turned to leave, but stopped after taking a step. He pivoted back on one foot. "Oh--" he pointed at me, as if he had to clarify who in the diner he was speaking to--- "don't call me. Switching numbers is a pain." And then he was gone.
In perfectly ironic timing, the kid arrived with the burgers.
"Is he--?"
"Just pack them both up," I sighed. "I'll take them home."
He hesitated before nodding and taking them away. I slumped over the table. Well. That was that, I guess.
I looked up when a body slid into the chair across from me.
"Do I need to chase after that boy with my butcher knife?" Lana looked at me, firey anger in her usually twinkling eyes.
Why did everyone think we were dating? But I couldn't help but smile. "Nah. It's not like that, we aren't dating."
"Well that much was obvious when he walked out, Honey Buns."
I smirked. "Yeah. he's just a little..."
"Self-centered?" She offered.
"I was going to say touchy. But yeah."
"Well your burgers are on the house, love."
"Lana, you don't have to--"
"They're on the house." She sent me a stern look, daring me to argue.
"Thanks." There was a pause. "Hey Lana?"
"Yeah Baby?"
"You know how you joked about putting some graffiti up on your building?"
She grinned. "I'm serious! I would if I could paint."
"What if I could find a graffiti artist to do it for you?"
Lana's grin widened. "If he's good? I'd gut the place and do the inside as well as the outside! Why, you know someone?"
I shrugged. "I thought I did."
"Well, don't stress about it. I'll find another way to get on Platt's nerves." The twinkle was back in her eyes. "Gotta get back to work, but enjoy your burgers and tell your Daddy I said hi."
She left me at the table just as the kid came back with the takeaway bags.
I sipped the last of my coke and stood. Well, I didn't have to cook for Dad now. He'd eat the veggie burger. I waved at Lana as I slipped out the door, only to stumble and stop short to keep from slamming into a tall figure who was waiting outside the door.
"Sorry--" I started.
"Claire?" The figure spoke, sticking out a hand, and I looked up to see that his features were shadowed by a hood. My heart lurched as I automatically took the hand offered to me and watched as he shook it. "Cas," he said. "Nice to meet you."
I didn't respond, just dumbly stared up at the shadow that was his face.
"I know you just explained it to Mark," he said. "But I'd like to hear more about your idea, if you don't mind."
OH SNAP. Reactions? Thoughts? Smart remarks? Send them my way in the comments after you hit the star! ;)
Chapter song is We Are Sick (Aaron Campbell Remix) by From Indian Lakes