by Nella Tyler
“Maggie, get out of there…come on. We should invite him to eat with us."
I nearly banged my head on the table trying to make eye contact with Savannah to tell her that if she did, I'd kill her, but at that very moment, Savannah was scooting out of the booth and making her way out toward the front door. Crap. She was waving, calling out Ben's name, trying to get his attention. There I was, still scrunched under the table practically on my hands and knees, when I heard the door of the diner open. I was trying to extricate myself from the table and back onto my seat when I saw Savannah slide into her seat, followed seconds later by a pair of jean-clad legs.
I finally squeezed my way back up into my seat, straightening my hair, as I acted surprised to see Ben sitting there. Savannah just grinned at me like the Cheshire cat. "Oh, hello, Ben," I said, feigning surprise. "Where did you come from?"
"Outside," he grinned. “Your friend here flagged me down, told me you were in here eating an early dinner." He lifted an eyebrow. "What were you doing there under the table?"
I quickly glanced at Savannah and knew she wouldn't give me up. "I dropped my fork," I blurted. At the same time I placed the napkin I clutched in my left hand over the fork sitting next to my plate, hoping desperately that he hadn't already seen it.
Oh my gosh, I had never been so embarrassed. At the same time, I wasn't quite sure if I was miserable that Savannah had dragged him in here, or whether I felt excited. I hadn't behaved that way in so many years I couldn't even remember. What the hell? What had propelled me to dive under the table like a school kid who just seen her favorite crush walk into the cafeteria?
"Would you like to order something to eat?" I asked him, trying to capture the attention of the server. "We just got our food, and as you can see, we haven't even begun to eat yet, so if you'd like…?"
"No, I ate a late lunch today," he said.
When the server came to our table to see how our food was, she also asked Ben if he would like to order something to eat, but he shook his head.
"I'll take a cup of coffee, though, please."
After that, Ben smiled, glancing between Savannah and me. I felt self-conscious eating my food. Savannah was able to eat or fish in a relatively dainty manner because it was so flaky, as was the rice and the diced carrots.
Me? I had a big slab of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, both slathered with brown gravy, and the green beans were long. While normally I wouldn't have, I grabbed a new pair of silverware, placed the napkin over the other fork, just in case, and then proceeded to cut all the beans in half. I couldn't eat like I normally would with Ben sitting across from me, watching every move. In fact, my stomach was in such an uproar, my nerves jangling, that I wondered if I could eat at all.
The last thing I needed was to be unable to swallow a bite of meatloaf. I envisioned it getting stuck in my throat, then having to cough, and then even worse, getting stuck to the point I couldn't breathe. I imagined Ben jumping out of his seat and coming to my side, turning me around, and then wrapping his arms around my abdomen and giving me a Heimlich maneuver. The meatloaf flying out of my mouth to land on the table. Shit. I cut my meatloaf into very small pieces. At this rate, it would take me forever to eat my dinner.
"You guys working tonight?" he asked.
We both nodded. Actually, Ben and I didn't do too much of the talking, as Savannah pretty much monopolized the conversation. While I ate, one careful bite at a time, all the while trying to keep any gravy from dripping off my food and onto my chin or clothes, I politely nodded and smiled when appropriate when Savannah said something, even though my eyes strayed again and again to Ben. It wasn't like I stared at him the entire time I ate. No, we just glanced at one another, and sometimes I saw him smile as he lifted the cup of coffee to his lips. He politely listened to Savannah, but I wondered how much of what she said he was tuning out to focus on me.
Because Ben was sitting right across from me, I didn't clean my plate as normally, no doubt about it, I would have, but I didn't want him to think I was a pig. I left a little bit of meatloaf, about a quarter of the mashed potatoes, and a few green beans, then leaned back in the booth, pretending like I was stuffed, even though I had been looking forward to a piece of warm blueberry pie for dessert. Savannah finished eating, as well, and several moments later, the server came by, asked as she could take our plates, and then invited us to order dessert. I shook my head, and after only a brief bit of hesitance, so did Savannah.
"No, thank you," Ben said. "Just the check, please."
The waitress stared at him for a moment, and I couldn't really blame her. He was one good-looking dude, no doubt about it. Now that the eating part was done, I finally noticed that he looked a little different tonight, or at least different than he usually did. Instead of a suit, he was wearing a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. The top couple of buttons of the shirt weren't done and I saw a peek of his chest and a few chest hairs. His arms were bare, not covered by the long-sleeved dress shirts he usually wore inside the casino. I noted how solid and firmly muscled they were. Every time he moved one of his fingers, the muscular threads and tendons between his wrist and his forearm danced. Savannah noticed, too. It was almost mesmerizing.
In a way, I was happy Savannah had invited him to join us – although the moment we were alone, I would tell her that I would never speak to her again! Still, it was nice to see Ben in a different environment. He looked more comfortable, more relaxed. He could've fit into any number of social circles. If I didn't know him, which I didn't, I would've guessed he was in some type of career that kept them outside most of the time. Construction? Mechanics? I didn't know. Yet something else I needed to know about this man who was slathering me with gifts and pursuing my attentions.
The server came back to the table with a little tray with our receipt for the food. For a moment, the woman was uncertain who she should give the tray to. After all, Savannah and I were here first. I reached my hand out for it, but Ben gently took it from her hand, slid his other hand into his shirt pocket, and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. He tucked it into the tray and then gave it to the server with a smile. "Keep the change."
I stared at him in amazement. Our dinner couldn’t have cost more than twenty-five dollars. He had just given that waitress at least a twenty dollar tip, if not more, without even blinking?" I shook my head. "Ben, you didn't have to pay for our dinner, and you certainly didn't have to leave the server such a generous tip-"
"It was my pleasure, ladies," he smiled. "Besides, my aunt made her living as a waitress. I grew up appreciating how hard she worked and the fact that many customers could be stingy when it comes to leaving tips. I always over-tip, and I have no qualms about doing so."
That was practically the first bit of personal history I had ever learned about Ben. So, maybe he hadn't inherited all that money. If it was family money, chances were that his aunt would not have been working as a waitress. His generosity was admirable and touched my heart. Maybe that's what he was all about. Maybe he was just a philanthropist, a guy who gave money or things to people he thought could use it.
"Well, it's been nice visiting you ladies, but I must be going. I have a few errands to take care of before I come to the casino tonight," he said, rising.
After shaking hands with Savannah, and then staring down at me for a moment before offering his hand, I grinned and shook his hand. It was warm and strong. Before he released my hand he gave it a gentle squeeze, and then winked at me.
"I'll see you later tonight, Maggie," he said. Then, he turned and walked away from the table, pushing open the door to the restaurant and disappearing down the street.
While I watched him go, I realized I was actually looking forward to seeing him later on. Then, I turned to Savannah. "Savannah, if you ever do that again, you're going to be in big trouble."
She just shrugged and smiled. "Shall we call the waitress back over and order our dessert now?"
We both laughed, and as we ate dessert, talked about Ben,
and then left the restaurant, we prepared for our upcoming shift. Actually, it turned out to be typical, nothing exciting or unusual. Ben sat at my table like he usually did, but he barely exchanged a glance with me. I knew he was trying to keep our relationship – or whatever it was – as unobtrusive as possible inside the casino, and I began to feel much more relaxed.
For now, he just seemed to be happy to be in my presence. I was content until one thought struck me. Sitting at dinner tonight, was it possible, could it be possible, that he had found Savannah more attractive and charming than me? Come to think of it, I had seen him glancing over to Savannah's side of the table several times.
My heart sank. Was I just imagining things? Taking things out of context and twisting it around? Did I care? Then, just before the other dealer came to change out the table, Ben turned to me and whispered.
"Will you go out with me tomorrow night?"
I stared at him a moment, captivated once again by those gorgeous eyes of his. "Yes," I said. "You know where I live now; you can pick me up there."
He nodded, and then I got busy changing out. After that, and without another word, I walked to the break room, clocked out, and made my way to my car. Still, the question about exactly who Ben was more attracted to – me or Savannah – kept swinging back and forth in my mind. I just wasn't sure and the question bated me the entire way home, while I took my shower, and then, when I climbed between my sheets to go to sleep.
Tomorrow was my day off. I decided that I had no control over what Ben did, and to be honest, if he latched onto Savannah, maybe my life could go back to normal. Still the thought of him being more attracted to her than me did cause me to feel a bit of the old green monster rising up from the depths. Plus, I knew she would take advantage. As much as I tried to push the idea out of my head, it lingered. Oh crap. I was in trouble. Because it was at that moment that I realized I had started falling for Ben.
Chapter 4
I slept in late, which I didn't do very often, but I was feeling quite content and lazy this morning. I expected Ben to text me or even call me at some point to let me know what time he was picking me up, although I didn't think it would be until early evening. I had no pressing errands or chores today.
In fact, as I lay there, comfortable in my own bed, I stared up at the ceiling, thinking that I was actually looking forward to going out with him again. I wouldn't admit it to anybody, not even Savannah. Still, I knew I deserved a break. I had always been very fun and outgoing, but since the divorce, I realized I had become severely introverted with two basic settings: work and sleep. Repeat. Now I had a chance to do something different. I guess it didn't really matter to me how it all ended as long as I didn't get hurt, but I wouldn't allow myself to be. I determined then and there that I would enjoy Ben’s company and companionship, but I wouldn't expect anything from him. As long as he knew the boundaries and didn’t expect anything from me in return, and knew that I wasn't going to be making any promises, I supposed it would be all right.
I had already firmly reiterated the fact that he was not to spend money on things or stuff just to get me to go out with him or impress me. Maybe tonight I could reaffirm my feelings about that. To me, a good guy wasn't someone who could just buy me things, but one who made that mental and emotional connection to me. A kind of guy that appeared to really care about what I thought, my feelings, my beliefs, and my attitudes. The more I compared Ben and my ex-husband, the more I realized how different they were. I couldn't even bring money into that comparison because they were at such different ends of the spectrum it wasn’t even funny. Nevertheless, in the beginning, I had been content with my husband. We didn't have a lot, but we had enough.
Ben had everything he wanted, probably at the snap of his fingers. How many zeros were in his bank account? I couldn't imagine having that kind of money. I would've been happy if I had a few thousand dollars tucked into my bank account for a rainy day, but as of yet, any money I had left over in my bank account had no more than two zeros attached to it.
At any rate, I began to look forward to going out with him. I wondered where we would go, what we would do. Later that afternoon, he did text me.
Heads up, wear something nice, but it doesn't have to be formal. J
I’ll pick you up at five o'clock, your place.
I texted back that I would be ready and then made a beeline to my closet, wondering what I should wear. I didn't want to wear the same thing I had worn the first time he had asked me out, and so, I pulled out a pair of light tan colored slacks that draped and flowed almost like silk. I matched it with a light blue rayon-polyester blend top that tied at the waist, draped gently at the shoulders, and wasn't too low cut. I decided that would have to do, because to be quite frank, I didn't own a closet full of cocktail dresses that I could choose from every time we went out.
At five o'clock, I heard a knock on my door. I grabbed my purse and walked over to it, looked through the peephole, and saw that it was indeed Ben. I opened the door and slipped outside, closing the door quickly and firmly behind me.
"You're not going to invite me in?" he said with a grin.
"Nope," I said, smiling. "Where are we going?"
He took my hand as we walked down the hallway and toward the stairs that took us down to the lower floor and the exit doors of the apartment building. I didn't mind him holding my hand. It was large, warm, and strong, and my hand pretty much disappeared inside it. It gave me an odd sense of comfort.
When we got outside and I looked for his car, I didn't see it. He pointed toward a sleek, long, black car near one end of the parking lot. A limo? I glanced up at him in question.
"My driver, Steve, is going to chauffeur us around tonight. You mind?"
I shook my head. "Not at all." I had never ridden in a limousine. Boy, another experience to add to my list. Once we were seated in the back of the limo, I sank into the comfortable leather seats, casting my fingers lightly over leather. A divider offered privacy between the rear of the limo driver. Two long seats ran the length of each side of the car, and in the bottom portion of the divider was a wet bar. It was already open and lit with the dull glow of tiny blue LED lights, displaying a number of bottles and glass of different sizes and shapes.
"Would you like a cocktail before we get to the restaurant?"
I looked over the liquor bottles and spied a white wine. "I'll have a glass of wine," I nodded. I watched as he deftly reached for the bottle of Riesling, carefully opened the cork, and poured the wine into a tall, fluted glass, but only halfway full. He looked at me and grinned.
"We're going to start with halvsies, okay?"
I laughed and agreed. He poured himself about a half-inch of Jack Daniels into a round shot glass. Tapping the glasses, he offered a brief toast.
"To the most beautiful girl in Atlantic City…my Queen of Hearts."
I smiled and then nodded graciously with the complement. We rode in comfortable silence for several minutes, and then the car slowed and pulled into a long driveway. I couldn't quite catch the name of the restaurant marquis, but it looked fancy, if the brick, the trailing ivy growing up its side, and the number of brilliantly lit windows gave any clue.
I was right. As we walked inside through a side door, I realized just by looking, that this was an expensive restaurant. The aromas floating through the air smelled delicious. The minute the maître d' saw Ben, and he approached and gestured for us to follow him. We were escorted to a private room where a table was gloriously set with shimmering crystal glasses, fine china, and heavy silver flatware.
Ben helped me into my chair and then sat down in his.
"I hope you don't mind, but I have already ordered dinner for the two of us. It should be ready in just a few minutes."
He then reached for the bottle of champagne on ice that had been left on a side table. He looked at me, eyebrows raised, and I nodded. "Okay, I'll have a glass, since we’ll be eating soon." I had to be careful not to drink too much, remembering what
had happened the last time I had done that. I didn't really want a repeat…did I?
While I didn't know what kind of food been ordered, I was sure it wasn't going to be meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I just hoped it wasn't something like caviar or escargot or so-called delicacy like that. I also didn't like a lot of seafood. I could eat fish, but not shellfish. Come to think of it, shouldn't he have asked me if I was allergic to anything before he ordered?
"You're not allergic to any foods, are you?"
The question startled me. Sometimes I got the distinct feeling that Ben could read my mind. "No, but please don't tell me you ordered any shellfish."
"No," he said shaking his head. He offered a slight frown of distaste. "I don't like the rubbery texture of many types of shellfish."
I smiled. "Me, either."
Before long, two servers appeared in the private room carrying platters of food. A lovely garden salad was placed beside each of us, along with a small decanter of what looked like balsamic vinegar to dribble on top of it. Then, our plates were placed down in front of us. I looked at it and surprise, then up at Ben, who grinned.
"I got the impression that you were a meat and potatoes type of gal," he shrugged.
No, it wasn't meatloaf, but a thick slice of filet mignon and a baked potato, along with a side of French-cut almond green beans. The aroma of the steak and the potato wafted toward me, and for a moment I worried that my stomach would growl loudly in response.
"Medium rare okay for you?" he asked. "If you want it well done, they can take it back to the kitchen for another couple of minutes."
I glanced at him and then at the server, glancing down at me. "No, medium rare is just fine, just the way I like it." I turned to Ben. "Thank you."
"Would you like any sauce or condiments?" the server asked. “Steak sauce, mushroom sauce for the steak or potato?"
I looked up at her with a smile and shook my head. "No, thank you.” She asked the same of Ben and like me, he declined. Moments later, both servers left the room and we were once again left staring at one another.