Cafe Romance

by Curtis Bennett

  Nearing the final portions of her dessert Yvette paused as she caught a glimpse of a distant but familiar face walk briskly out of the restaurant, apparently after paying for his meal. It was an eternity before she finally came to life and her senses.

  Politely excusing herself from the table, she stood up and hurriedly made her way towards the entrance of the restaurant. This was not an easy thing to do during the peak business hour. By the time she appeared outside the man with the familiar face had rode off into the busy afternoon traffic on a familiar looking bike.

  It was him! She was certain of it. It was her rescuer from over a month ago. “Oh God!” she murmured, over and over. She wanted to call out to him but she did not even know his name. “I don’t believe this is happening to me again,” she said with a look of bewilderment. How could fate treat me this way, she thought? If only she had known, or had any idea, that he would drop by for lunch today she would have kept an eye out for him.

  Turning, she felt crushed. Perhaps he’d return another day. But before that thought could fade from view she felt a mild state of panic with her next thought. The menu! What if their pricey up-scaled menu had scared him off?

  In that one instance, she was horrified by the notion that he may have dined, for the first and last time, at a place he could not readily afford. If so, her chances of ever seeing him there again were slim. After all, this was one of the most expensive restaurants in the area.

  With that thought fresh in her mind, she immediately set out to quietly ask about his order from the waitress who had served him. Her findings revealed that he had pretty much ordered the same entree as she had, except for dessert he chose the brandy snaps with fresh Georgia peaches. Unfortunately, he provided no personal information about himself to the waitress...no name, no clue whatsoever to his identity or occupation.

  It wasn’t much but through discovery she now knew that he paid cash for his meal and she had only a sampling of what he liked to eat. What a bummer, she thought, then murmured, “Who can afford to pay with cash anymore?”

  Carlotta Jones, a young ex-Air Force member, came abundantly packaged with intelligence, charm, wit, and natural beauty. She had just completed a four-year tour with the Air Force three weeks prior to her interview at the job services center. She would have stayed Air Force had not her whole world came crumbling down around her, a result of an affair with the husband of her rather bitchy executive commander, which had come to light just days before her reenlistment, she told Kurt. As a result, she was demoted a full rank, fined, and forced out of the service. None of this would have happened, she thought, had her two-year old marriage not crumbled towards the midway point of her tour.

  Divorced from her husband two years into her tour, Carlotta had grown weary of being alone. She did not like the idea of being without a man. Some women are just that way. Better yet, why couldn’t her husband Chuck be faithful for the three lousy months she was overseas on special assignment, she pondered? After all, she had been. And it wasn’t any easier for her. As she told Kurt, “Had it not been for that goddamn Victoria “Vickie” Henderson, the off base housing slut, Chuck and I would still be together.”

  “How did this come about?” Kurt asked, mildly curious.

  “Well, as Chuck explained it to me…he was out jogging one morning, and their paths crossed. A conversation ensued, a statement by one of them about being hungry followed, and Vickie, in a gesture of neighborly kindness, invited him over for some refreshments. Problem is, Chuck wound up getting more than her initial offer.”

  “It seems that way,” Kurt added.

  Carlotta insisted that she would have never found out about the illicit affair had Chuck not dashed semi-nude into the night air as people peered out of their doors and windows to see what all the commotion was about, buck shots whisking by him as he made good his escape. Fortunately for him, his lover’s husband was a lousy shot. On the downside, however, Chuck and Victoria were the talk of the base for weeks. As she emphasized to Kurt, “I couldn’t take it anymore. So, a month later, I filed for divorce. But it doesn’t stop there. Somehow I got caught up in an interracial affair, of my own volition, with my bitchy superior’s husband. Damn right! I let her ass know that she wasn’t the only Black woman who could get white chocolate.”

  Kurt could not help but chuckle, as his brown eyes took her in. Fortunately, when she left the Air Force she left with a solid job skill in computer applications.

  After her unsolicited and graphically touching story ended, he paused to collect his thoughts. With great confidence, he said, “Carlotta, I don’t anticipate you having much difficulty finding work in the civilian world. The computer field is definitely wide opened,” he assured her.

  Carlotta smiled but said nothing. She was content to observe Kurt in silence, as he quietly went about completing his paperwork.

  "You know, what this office needs is a woman's touch," she chanced to say unexpectedly aloud, almost as if it were an afterthought. She was a woman who believed in the straightforward approach. And she knew where she was headed with this.

  "A woman's touch?" he mused, glancing up at her.

  "Yes, a woman's touch," she echoed. "You have nothing on your walls or your desk. No pictures, no certificates, no clues. There's nothing here that's revealing about you."

  "Perhaps that's because I am a very private person, Mrs. Jones," Kurt replied politely, returning to his paperwork.

  "Are you married?" she asked, leveling her eyes at him until he acknowledged her gaze.

  "Yes, I am," he said, after a brief pause.

  "Then you should have a picture of your wife on display."

  "Well, actually, we're separated," Kurt paused to say, only to return to his typing at his computer terminal.

  "I’m sorry. I didn't mean to go there.” Like hell she didn’t.

  There was an ominous pause.

  "It's okay. No apologies necessary," Kurt said, breaking the ice.

  "Well, since you put it that way I guess that means there's still a chance," she quipped in a seductive tone.

  "A chance for what, Ms. Jones?" he said sitting more erect on the edge of his chair, his fingers poised an inch above the keyboard.

  "A chance for me," she said playfully, as she gave him another wanton gaze.

  “Ms. Jones, are you flirting with me?”

  “Just making conversation. At this time, that is.”

  "Speaking of time, Ms. Jones," he said, redirecting the focus of the conversation back to business, "You’ll need to stop by the Veteran's Affairs representative's office, down the hall, before leaving. He assured me that he has two very good and very solid leads for you. I hope you remembered to bring your DD214 form along with you.”

  "Thank you," she said, rising up. "And yes, I brought my form."

  "Great! Anyway, good luck and I hope the best for you Ms. Jones in your job search."

  Turning to face him, she smiled, adding, "It’s Carlotta and I want you to remember this one thing. When I walk out this door, you're looking at the best. Remember that in your search."

  "I really don’t remember saying that I was searching for anything. Just the same, you have a great day," he smiled nervously.

  There was a spark of interest in his eyes, she was convinced At least a passing curiosity, she was sure. Carlotta could only hope that her words, as well as her body by Jake, had left a lasting impression on him.

  Two appointments later, Kurt glanced down and checked his timepiece. It read a few minutes before noon. Reflecting on his morning schedule he smiled and shook his head. It had been quite hectic, however, the likes of Carlotta Jones and Maria Lopez made it interesting. Well, perhaps more than interesting.

  Chapter 10

  After hitting the fast food circuit for most of the past week, Kurt had grown tired of greasy cheeseburgers, salt-coated fries, factory made salads, and syrupy colas. Only twice that week had he bagged what could be considered a healthy lunch. Now it was that time to indul
ge in some fine cuisine. It had been a week since his last visit to Café Le Soir, so he decided to return there today.

  By taking a late lunch, Kurt avoided the heavy crowd he had run into head-on during his last visit. Once there, a diminutive college-aged hostess escorted him to a cloth covered table where he sat down. To his surprise, the waitress who served him on his first visit appeared. Once again, she presented him with a glass of water, a lunch menu, and wine list before she spun off into the distance. After a courtesy review, he looked up from his menu.

  Leveling his eyes, his gaze swept slowly around the room. Entering the dining room area were three older couples. All six were dressed like business professionals, like most of the others there. Only a handful of customers were casually dressed. Still, they looked like big money.

  Clearing his throat, he leaned back in the chair and opened the menu wide to sort through it and this time with deliberation.

  It was Friday, meaning it was fish day. For many high end family restaurants in the Tampa Bay area this meant deep fried Catfish nuggets, Cajun-cooked Ocean Trout, Grilled Fillet of Perch, Savory Baked Halibut, Neptune Fried Squid, Broiled Lobster Tail, Fried Jumbo Shrimp, O’Brien Potatoes, filet of fish sandwiches, burgers, and curly fries, for the kids. Clam Chowder and tossed salad, light appetizers, were probably available to jumpstart their menus. Nothing but the ocean's best for the average paying customer.

  Kurt knew better, though. It wasn’t even a tossup. Not with the delectable choices he had before him. For patrons of the five-star Café Le Soir, fish day meant: Roast Monkfish with Caramelized Onions and Tart Cherry Sauce, Grilled Tuna wrapped in Swiss chard with Anchovy Sauce, and Green-lipped Mussels and Manila Clams with Spinach Spaghettini and Garlic Sauce. The midday dessert menu: Pears and Prunes in Zinfandel syrup with Cinnamon Dumplings, Muscat Ice Cream in Ginger Tuiles, and Orange Raisin Tea Cake with Sweet Wine Glaze. Kurt decided on the green-lipped mussels and manila clams with spinach spaghettini and garlic sauce. For dessert he ordered the orange raisin teacake with sweet wine glaze. Since he was on the clock the rest of the day, he ordered a virgin Strawberry Daiquiri to drink.

  Yvette tapped a pencil on the desk, thoughtfully. Leaning slightly forward in her chair she placed both her pencil and reading glasses on the wooden surface then powered down her computer. Sinking back into her chair, she closed her eyes momentarily.

  Christine, an assistant manager, who preferred to be called Chris, was seated to her left. Both had been busy. A weekly routine, Chris had dropped off several business reports to Yvette, who was responsible for inputting them into the computer. While Yvette typed in the data, Chris casually reviewed the food purchase order for the upcoming Memorial Day weekend.

  "Hey, how did we do yesterday on the health and sanitation inspection?" Chris asked, honking her nose into a tissue. It was the fabric of the chair, again. She was allergic to anything fibrous or close to the texture of wool, as she had acknowledged in the past.

  "As far as I know, we passed with flying colors," Yvette replied tersely, and then as if an afterthought, "That's right, you were off yesterday."

  "You bet your ass, I was!" Chris shot back, reaching down to retrieve a loose sheet of paper, then added, "And it was a well-deserved day off, too. Bought me an ice-cold six-pack after lunch yesterday, went home, and got fuck’n ripped. That end-of-the month inventory kicked my Norwegian ass the other night."

  A stoic Yvette, replied, “Must be nice.”

  Chris was not one of Yvette's favorite people. The woman was far too rough around the edges and wasn’t known for having a warm friendly personality. What she was known for was her foul-mouth, short temper, and arrogance. But Chris was good at what she did. She knew the restaurant business inside out. And Yvette respected that. But knowing her dislike for the woman, she usually kept her distance but today was one of those days she just grinned and bared it. Those reports had to be inputted into the computer, although she did everything she could to keep the encounter brief, business-like, and straight to the point.

  As Chris wrapped up her purchase order, Yvette pulled open her bloated purse and withdrew a small mirror and comb. As one hand combed her hair, her free hand patted it in place. After a few adjustments she restored her vanity tools.

  Opening one of several magazines on the wooden desktop to review, she quickly thumbed through it. In a little while she would head downstairs to have lunch. The restaurant had been open for business for nearly an hour earlier. And the aroma of gourmet food was having its effect on her. Having skipped breakfast, she had decided on an early lunch, but was running behind schedule.

  After flipping through several more pages Yvette looked up and was startled to see Angelique, one of the newly hired waitresses, standing silently at the door entrance.

  "Girl, you just about scared the liv'n shit out of me!" Chris blurted out, having nearly jumped three inches out of her seat. “For Christ’s sake, say something the next time, gal.”

  Yvette chuckled, as she collected herself too. "Angelique, feel free to knock or make some kind of noise when you enter," she said as she continued to chuckle. She was more tickled by Chris' reaction than Angelique's unannounced appearance. She’d only wished she could have captured Chris on video when she practically leaped out of her chair. She was sure she could send it to one of those humorous television shows. Maybe win a prize. Comedy just didn't get any better than this, she thought.

  "Please, forgive me," Angelique promptly apologized. "It wasn’t my intent to startle you. Matter-of-fact, I was hoping one of you would look up. I thought if I spoke too suddenly I would startle you for sure, so I just waited while you combed your hair, hoping that you would notice me."

  "And boy, did we," Yvette smiled. "Don't worry about it," she added thoughtfully. "Like Chris said, next time, just say something. Or just rap on the door."

  "Okay."

  "Now, how can I assist you?" Yvette asked.

  "What I came to tell you was that your friend has return."

  "My friend?" Yvette pondered. She couldn’t think of anyone she was expecting for lunch.

  "The one you inquired about the other day. You remember, don't you?"

  Yvette began to breathe arduously, as she slowly rose from the desk. "You mean the man on the bike that got away from me?"

  "Yes, I believe that's the one."

  "Sounds like someone special," Chris added, wiping at her nose again.

  "It's just someone I met recently, that's all," Yvette said, almost defensively.

  "Just go with the flow, girl," Chris retorted, leaning back in the chair and crossing her legs in a manly way.

  Yvette started to fuss over her hair, all over again, then said, retrospectively, "Is he alone?"

  "Yes, I believe he is," Angelique replied dutifully.

  “Hey, this friend of yours, does he have a sister, by chance?” Chris asked, with a mischievous grin. “My type, perhaps.”

  “Excuse me?” Yvette replied, locking her gaze onto Chris.

  “Don’t give me that weird look. I know you’ve must have heard that my ole lady and I broke up recently. I’m just keeping my options open,” Chris returned, as she leaned further back into the chair.

  “I don’t know if he has a sister or not,” Yvette said, then added, laughing, “But if he does, she’s probably too much for you to handle. May not even be your type, come to think of it.”

  “Now how would you know that?” Chris shot back, as she boldly eyed Yvette’s round bottom before focusing on her eyes.”

  “Just trust me.” Yvette quipped. “And Chris, I’m not your type either. Try your best to remember that.”

  “Can’t knock a gal for trying, now can you,” Chris smirked.

  “I’m outta here." With that a nervous Yvette hurried around the vast desk and descended the carpeted stairs, arriving in the dining room area breathless and anxious.

  Up above, soft piano jazz played over mounted miniature speakers positioned throughout the Café. But th
is did little to put her at ease.

  Having caught up to Yvette, Angelique guided Yvette's eyes beyond the flurry of business to where her mystery man sat alone eating. Yvette thanked the waitress again, pressed her dress down with her hands lightly and took a deep breath. Then she took the first step towards the reunion she had not given up on, but thought no longer possible.

  As she made her approach she hurriedly exchanged pleasantries with the customers whom she knew, some she hadn't seen in weeks. As she refocused on her handsome Knight, she sauntered towards him, holding him in her line of vision until she found herself standing nervously before him.

  "Hello. I am Yvette Roberts," was all that she could manage to say at first, with a smile and a touch of nervousness. The man was more handsome than she remembered. She wondered if he was available. But she quickly reminded herself she wasn’t look’n…wasn’t in the market.

  Kurt glanced up bewildered at first as his eyes froze on her lean and voluptuous form. In the meantime his mind pondered whom this familiar face belonged to. Then it was as clear as the day it happened. Her enchanting dark eyes and gaze gave her away. But before he could respond, Yvette beat him to the punch.

  "You may remember that I am the woman you rescued over a month ago, unless this is something you do on a regular basis."

  "Well, well! What a pleasant surprise this is!” he said, as his eyes caught and held hers.

  “Please forgive me Ms. Roberts. I do apologize for not recognizing right away. And no, I am not in the habit of rescuing people on a regular basis," he chuckled. "Are you dining with someone, or here alone?”

  “No, I’m not with anyone,” she answered, her voice full of entreaty.

  “Would you care to join me for lunch, then?" he said rising up.

  "Why thank you," she replied, seating herself gracefully into the booth facing him.

  "Do you come here often for lunch?" he asked, taking a generous sip of wine.

  "Five days a week," Yvette answered.