by Kilby Blades
Lauren pulled out her phone and got to work snapping pictures. She’d edit them later. The whole room, soft focus, click. The three-course prix fixe menu, excluding the prix, click. The classically-elegant table setting with white china, polished silver, and the splash of a red rose against the white linens, click. Classic Valentine’s Day.
The shots were good—would be better once filtered—but they weren’t quite right. Something was missing. Or someone. As Cash bustled back through the room, arms loaded with soups and salads, she caught his eye and beckoned with her head. He nodded and carried on.
Floating from table to table with athletic grace and a brilliant smile, he delivered his plates without interrupting the romantic cooing going on between each couple. She marveled at the way his shoulders shifted, straining against his shirt while he kept everything balanced. The tendons in his hands flexed and released with ease. Had she ever noticed the strength in those creative hands before?
She shook herself. The romance was so thick in the air that it was going straight to her head. That had to be it. How could she be ogling her friend just after breaking up with another guy? She was on a break!
It was definitely Valentine’s Day’s fault. She couldn’t say she was overly surprised that things with Devin had ended, but the timing really sucked. Cash wove his way back to her table, and she gestured to the other chair.
“Sit down a minute.”
His eyes bulged wide. “You’re crazy. I’m working, Lauren.”
“I know but I need a date, and a glass of wine wouldn’t hurt either. These shots of an empty chair feel too… lonely.”
“You want... Okay. Jesus, okay. Give me five.”
He ran a hand over his tightly cropped curls and down his fade to pinch his neck as he whirled away again, and she couldn’t help but admire how good he looked in those black pants as he rejoined the ballet of servers tending tables full of couples in love. He could’ve been a dancer. She’d seen his moves. But his poet’s soul spoke louder than his fancy feet. She knew that he had a few new things out on submission, but the rejections seemed to be hitting him harder lately. He was frustrated with the path to publication and the day job he had to rely on. She just hoped he didn’t give up before his big break came. And she knew it was coming. He was too good to fail.
True to his word, within five minutes he was back with a glass of red wine. He sat in the chair across from her and let out a deep sigh.
“God, my feet are killing me. What do you need me to do?”
Lauren was already framing and snapping her photos, male torso now nicely filling the negative space. It made all the difference.
“Hold my hand,” she said without looking up from her phone.
“What?”
“Across the table. Just hold my hand.”
He stretched his right hand across the table, and she gripped it lightly with her left, almost missing the gentle caress of his fingers across her knuckles as she framed the shot with the phone in her right hand. Almost. She certainly didn’t miss the resulting tingles that raced up her arm. That was new and…interesting.
“What exactly is going on here?”
That’s what she’d like to know as well, her eyes jerking away from Cash’s towards a very tall man in a full suit standing next to their table, who was glaring at her date. Cash stumbled to his feet. Oh shit. This was the manager. What was his name? Mr….Marinetti. Her brain supplied the name Cash had often ranted about just in time.
“You must be Mr. Marinetti. I’m Lauren Sykes with The Windy Wendy. Maybe you’ve heard of us?” She stood and pumped his hand in a firm handshake. “I’m doing a feature on the best places to fall in love in the Windy City, and I’d love to include Le Petit Mort on the list.” She watched his face smooth into what she recognized as a service mask. No one would know he’d been seconds from losing his temper with an employee. The man was a pro.
Lauren pushed forward with her pitch now that she had his attention. “I know it’s a busy night, but I convinced your server to let me take a few photos before he bothered you. If you have a few minutes, I’d love to ask you a few questions.” She linked her hand through his elbow, still chattering away. “I know the couple for this table is on the way. Maybe we could move to the bar?” She waved her hand at Cash behind her, but she needn’t have bothered. He’d already cleared her wine glass and was gone.
“Of course. I can answer any questions you might have. Perhaps you’d like to take some photos of our featured Valentine’s Day cocktails?”
“That sounds divine. So Le Petit Mort, is the food really orgasmic?”
“Our goal is certainly to leave you breathless with appreciation.”
Lauren followed Mr. Marinetti to the bar, where she dutifully asked and recorded random-ass questions about Valentine’s Day in the restaurant industry and snapped pictures of each special pink cocktail the bartender made for her. She did get some great pictures, and by the end of the interview she knew exactly how much had been spent on those roses, which were a gift to the diners. She was also on her way to Tipsy Tina after sampling the fun drinks by the time Cash came back to check on her.
“Sorry to interrupt, but Tish said there was a problem with the menus printed for the second seating.”
“Don’t let me keep you.” Lauren stood and reached for his hand and was pretty sure she didn’t wobble in her high heels. “Thank you so much for your help tonight.”
Once he’d made it to the front of the restaurant, Lauren let out a short laugh. “Oh God, you came back just in time. I’ve got to get some food in my stomach, or I won’t be able to feel my knees soon.”
“I’ve got you covered. Follow me.” Cash took off towards the back of the restaurant, and Lauren was oddly disappointed that he didn’t take her hand. She could still feel the way he’d caressed her knuckles, the warmth of his hand transferring to hers. His hands were always warm.
As they passed the restrooms, she gave in to her curiosity and reached for his hand again. The tingles were stronger this time, heat racing up her arm and making her heart beat faster. Or was that just a side effect of the alcohol hitting her blood stream? Either way, she wasn’t letting go.
He pulled her through the door labeled “Staff Only” and into a chilly service hallway for the building. White cinder block walls met with a dingy gray linoleum floor covered in scrapes and stains from years of deliveries coming in and garbage going out. Bags of dirty linens waited for pickup, and a stack of milk crates sat in the corner behind the door.
“Welcome to The Break Room, a.k.a. Smokers’ Alley.” He gestured to the Emergency Exit door. “It’s not alarmed so everyone sneaks smoke breaks back here.” He stacked two milk crates and covered the mini throne with a napkin pulled from his pocket with a flourish. “Milady…” he bowed and Lauren sat regally before breaking into tipsy laughter. This was so not how she’d pictured her Valentine’s Day. “I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared down the hallway at a sprint, and once again Lauren appreciated just how much he was juggling for her tonight. He really was an excellent friend. He’d never once let her down. Before she had time to miss him, he was back with a steaming plate of food.
“On prix fixe nights, we always plate extras just in case. The staff usually gets them as leftovers. You can have mine.” He handed her a fork and a plate with seared sliced hangar steak artfully arranged over garlic mashed potatoes, a crab cake, and crispy fried asparagus. Her mouth watered. Cash checked his watch.
“I’ve got another hour before I’m off. You’re welcome to hang out here, or duck out the back if you need to. I’ll text you when I get off, and we can head over to the benefit.”
She grabbed his hand one more time before he could run off, running her fingers over his knuckles this time. Could he feel it too, this static energy waiting to snap?
“Thank you so much for everything tonight. You totally saved my ass.” Was it her imagination or had his eyes flickered down to that particul
ar part of her anatomy? “I still can’t believe you managed to get us into the ball.”
“You know I’d do anything for you, Lauren.” When he met her gaze head on, the look in his eyes was different somehow. She let go of his hand to reach for her phone, intent on capturing his new expression to dissect later. But by the time she raised it, he’d hidden that raw expression behind a silly grin. Typical.
“You’re the best friend ever, you know that?”
His goofy expression fell, and he backed away toward the kitchen.
“Yeah. I’ve heard that. Listen, I’ll catch you later, okay?” And then he was gone, back into the fray.
Lauren ate her meal, and pondered what she’d said to make his face fall. As she sat on milk crates in a couture gown, she snapped some selfies of her meal and the ambiance that made her grin before tucking into the delicious food. Each bite was tastier than the last, and once the fear of Sloppy Sarah had passed, she got to work.
She scrolled, filtered, captioned, and tagged her favorites shots from the restaurant with #WindyCityValentine2019 and #LoveItOrLeaveIt. She waited for the comments to start pouring in. Eating in a drafty dirty hallway that smelled like old cigarettes was a far cry from the five star treatment she’d planned with Devin, but she could honestly say that she was quite happy with how things were working out. She had true friends she could count out. What more could a girl want? Sure, an orgasm or three on the most romantic night of the year wouldn’t go amiss, but she wasn’t going to split hairs.
The phone in her hand buzzed as Wendy texted her a thumbs up.
W: Photos look great! Glad to see you worked it out. Can’t wait to read your feature.
Reminded that she wasn’t done with her job, Lauren sat her plate on the milk crates and pulled her thoughts back from her personal struggles. She buttoned up her coat, covering her formal gown and headed off to her next photo spot. She couldn’t afford to get distracted now.
Millennium Park sparkled as a fresh dusting of snow fell and covered the grey, grimy mounds of snowplowed ice left over from the last big storm. The city lights twinkling through the crisp cold air as dancing snowflakes swirled past, click. Couples bundled up in layers of scarves, hats, gloves, and each other, click. A pair of Chicago cops on horseback patrolling the park, their horses nickering with their noses close enough to kiss, click. So far, so good for the “romantic stroll through the park” segment.
When she’d pitched the story, she had imagined this would be where Devin asked her to move in with him. They’d been seeing each other exclusively for six months. Now she had to wonder how exclusive he’d been if he could drop her for an actress over night.
Thank God she’d realized that he was an asshole before she’d given up her lease. Her little one bedroom apartment might not be much, but it was hers. Being able to afford her own place had been a big deal to her, a real step towards independence. And she’d almost screwed it up. Shaken by her near miss, she resolved to be more discerning with her next boyfriend. She’d serial dated for years, hating to be single, and where had it gotten her? Alone and drifting on Valentine’s Day. So she’d step back and take a break.
At least her work instincts had been spot-on. Winter at the oasis in the heart of the city was picture-perfect and full of lovers. She cued up her digital release form and began approaching couples, formulating a piece on the face of love on the spot. Old, young, gay, straight, every ethnicity that called Chicago home… She could see it becoming a visual testament to the diversity of the city she loved.
As she wandered, capturing small gestures of love with her camera phone, she felt her own loneliness more keenly. Even when she’d been with Devin, she couldn’t say she’d felt the connection, the love she saw on the faces around her. Had she really been so caught up in the flashy lifestyle that his money had allowed her to experience that she’d completely missed his lack of substance? She hated to think that she’d been that shallow, but the evidence was staring her in the face.
Lesson learned. She’d pick substance over style next time. Bonus points for finding a guy with both.
She switched her camera to video as she approached the Bean, hoping to get a good clip of lovers strolling. Maybe she could do some graphics or voice overs, put together a little piece. Video was good on social media.
Formally known as Cloud Gate, the Bean was a mirrored landmark in the shape of a kidney bean and was a favored backdrop for Chicago skyline photos. As she got closer, a young man and woman strolling arm-in-arm, pulled to a stop at the center of the platform. Lauren watched on her screen as the man dropped to one knee and pulled a small black box from the pocket of his black peacoat.
Oh. Oh, how sweet. She was too far away to hear what they said, but the way his girlfriend was nodding frantically and tugging at her scarf was clear enough. In the heart of this bustling metropolis, he was offering his into her keeping. From the way the girlfriend pulled him off his knees into an exuberant kiss from her now bared lips, Lauren judged the feeling was mutual.
Her own heart squeezed in her chest. That’s what she wanted. Suddenly, she felt every gust of wind coming in off the lake, the wet wind chilling her to the bone. The couple tugged off gloves so he could put the ring on her finger to the applause of the strangers surrounding them. Lauren snapped a few stills and approached them as they laughed and waved to the crowd.
She showed them the video and offered to email it to them. She made a mental note to reach out to them for a follow up, another feature brewing in her mind. She had trouble turning off her ambition. Story ideas constantly bombarded her brain. Tonight, however, they weren’t quite enough to distract her from the reality that in a city full of lovers, she was flying solo.
She wished the couple well, promising to be in touch, as she headed for the Park Grill, desperate for some hot coffee to sober her up and save her from her maudlin thoughts. She’d forgotten that it was right next to the skating rink. She dutifully snapped more pictures of couples in love doing cute things. When she’d pitched this assignment, she hadn’t realized the torture it would be. Warming her hands on her cup of coffee, she found herself wishing for a warm pair of hands to heat them with instead. God, she wished Cash had been able to come with her. Her resolve was fading fast. It wasn’t even seven o’clock, and she was already dreaming of being home in her jammies wrapped up in bed with a “good cry” romance. Cash would have cracked a joke and made her laugh at herself or at the lovebirds awkwardly trying not to fall on their asses on the ice. Or maybe he’d just have held her hand again. When had she started craving that?
She fished her phone back out of her pocket and called Alexis.
“Hey, how’s the plan going?” Alexis asked.
“Lovers in love and the other’s run away. It’s great, and crushing my soul at the same time. Why did we think this was a good idea?” Lauren watched as a woman in a knee length body-con dress stumbled past on rented skates, clearly wondering the same thing.
“Because you wanted to save your feature and Cash is brilliant?”
“Right. Saving my job. I don’t get why I feel so upset. I mean I’m well rid of Devin, and I know that. So why do I feel like I’m missing him right now?”
“Have you ever spent a Valentine’s Day alone?” Alexis said something to someone in the room with her, and Lauren felt like a heel. For the first time in a long time, her best friend was NOT alone on Valentine’s Day, and here she was interrupting.
“Not since high school.”
“Well, there’s your answer. You don’t miss him. You miss the idea of him. But don’t despair. Cash is almost off work, isn’t he?”
“Are you suggesting that I treat my best friend as a stand-in for a boyfriend just to pacify my insecurities?” That sounded terrible even to her ears, but Alexis’s extended pause left her room to think.
“You could do a lot worse than Cash. In fact, you have. Why not give him a chance and see how it goes?”
“What? What are you saying?” The
idea of Cash as her boyfriend burrowed into her brain, tunneling through his firmly established friend identity, and breaking it apart with potential. “Why would I mess with a friendship that means the world to me?”
“You’re right. Why on earth would you want to date a guy who knows you inside and out and still likes you? I don’t know what I was thinking.” The sarcasm broke thickly through the phone. “Listen, Bree and I are gonna be late for our movie. You’ll be just fine. Just stick to the plan.”
“Yeah, okay. Have fun tonight. Love you.”
“Love you, too, babe.”
She couldn’t say she felt better after the phone call, but she sure as hell wasn’t thinking about all of the couples in love surrounding her anymore.
Cash? As a boyfriend? The more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Why hadn’t they in all the years they’d been together? Sure, there had been moments where she’d wondered, but she’d never gotten that vibe from him. Had she missed it? Should they? Could they? And what if it all fell apart? She didn’t know what to make of all the deep thoughts ricocheting around her skull, but she sure wasn’t miserable anymore. Mission accomplished.
Finally off shift, pocket flush with tips, Cassius ducked into the now empty back hallway. He picked up Lauren’s plate in one hand and his phone in the other, texting her to see where she was. He grinned again as he slid her plate into a dirty tray, thinking of the cover story she’d spun to cover his ass. Quick thinking.
Sure, he’d gotten chewed out by Mr. Marinetti for not clearing it with him first, but at least he’d kept his job. And he needed to keep this job. Waiting tables wasn’t a job he wanted to turn into a career, but he had bills to pay and student loans to cover. He didn’t mind it, and it was decent money. Plus the hours spent on the el or the bus gave him time to think, time to write. Now, if he could just get someone to buy his writing…