Alpha Principal

by Preston Walker

They followed the bright shape of her dress as she led them through Viola!, past all the other diners and to a secluded little corner. Pleased, Nathan made a mental note to mention this whenever he gave the restaurant a review. He had specifically requested they be as far away from the other patrons as possible, and they had certainly come through with that for him.

  Once they were seated, the hostess offered them two slender, shimmering menus. “Your server will be along shortly. I hope the two of you very much enjoy your evening, and if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Thank you,” Nathan said.

  The hostess smiled broadly at them, as if his thanks actually meant quite a lot to her on a personal level. She left, a beacon of red in the fashionable darkness, and then she turned the corner and was gone.

  Nathan looked across the table at Simon, who was browsing through the tiny menu. “What do you think so far?”

  “It’s about what I expected.” Simon shrugged. Nathan’s heart sank a little. He’d been hoping for a more favorable reaction. “I feel kind of like a fish out of water. I’ve never been in a place like this before.”

  “Never?”

  “I’ve been to some teacher’s luncheons before but those have always been at some rent-a-hall with catering. Nothing like this. It actually makes me feel a little nervous.”

  Nathan’s heart gave a tweak inside his chest, sympathy flooding through him. “A big guy like you, nervous? That doesn’t seem right.”

  “I can scream in the face of a referee with the best of them, but this just isn’t a situation I’m used to.”

  That’s true.

  “Well, try not to be nervous. These people won’t really remember you after you’re gone, no matter how friendly they might seem. You’re just another face out of a thousand that they see every week. And it’s not like you’re having tea with the Queen. There’s not a whole lot of faux pas to worry about.”

  “The Queen doesn’t have anything to do with France, Nathan. You’re mixing your metaphors. I’m not even an English teacher and even I know that.”

  Nathan narrowed his eyes while looking at the wolf sitting across from him. It was difficult to glare, even in a playful manner, because of how simply handsome Simon was tonight. The gentle light caught so gently along the lines of his facial structure, making him seem almost like an artwork himself. “You get what I mean,” he growled.

  Just then, footsteps approached and a waiter emerged from the darkness. He was a young, handsome man in a crisp long-sleeved red shirt and black vest, with a crooked bow tie he occasionally fiddled with as he talked. He bowed at the waist, then came up again beaming. “Good evening, gentlemen. Did you see that sunset earlier?”

  “We did,” Simon replied, cutting Nathan off as he opened his mouth to speak. He blinked a little with surprise because he hadn’t expected Simon to be so ready to conquer his nervousness; maybe he felt that he had something to prove. Even if that was the case, Nathan felt his sympathy warm into pride. “We came across the river.”

  “That must have been beautiful,” the young waiter exclaimed. “I happen to live here in Norfolk, so I don’t often get to cross the water so late in the day. My name is Pascal, gentlemen, and I will be your server for the night. Would you like to start off with drinks? Perhaps a fine burgundy? Or, we have quite the selection of handcrafted cocktails. And of course, if you have any cocktail of your own that you would prefer, our kitchen is equipped for just about anything.”

  Nathan mused for a moment, then glanced down at the menu. He wasn’t a fan of wine. It always tasted like he was drinking straight olive oil disguised under various names. A cocktail was more his style, although he didn’t regularly consume those either. Getting drunk, or even buzzed, made it hard to catch his stride again come the following morning. Working the job that he did, didn’t really allow for such liberties.

  “I’ll have the Dogwood,” he said, naming the one that caught his attention first. It was also one of the few he could properly pronounce. Despite what he’d told Simon, he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. He didn’t want to become a kitchen tale, where the waiters laughed forever about that one guy who didn’t know how to pronounce L’Oie Noir.

  “Very good, sir. One of my favorites.”

  Pascal didn’t look old enough to drink, but maybe that was his lack of a beard or moustache.

  “And for you, sir?”

  Simon hesitated, then said, “I’ll just have water.”

  “Would you perhaps like sparkling water? We have a variety of flavors.” Pascal immediately launched into a long, rattling list of various flavors of water, to the point where Nathan had to wonder if the man was repeating a few.

  Eventually, Simon picked grapefruit, and Pascal wandered away to get their drinks while giving them a further chance to look at the menu.

  Nathan was about to suggest that they look at the appetizers, but the pondering look on Simon’s face stopped him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “Do you think his name is actually Pascal? That he’s actually French?”

  Nathan laughed a little. “That’s not exactly very important to the experience tonight, is it?”

  “I was just curious. You know how in Mexican restaurants, it’s usually all Latino and Latina servers. I just wondered if it was the same here.”

  “You could ask him,” Nathan suggested.

  “I think that would be a little rude. I guess I’ll just have to take him at his word.”

  They looked at the menu together, musing back and forth about the entrees on offer. Their conversation was light and mostly unimportant.

  Nathan didn’t feel very light, despite the fact that Simon made him smile with nearly everything he said. The weight of the jewelry box in his pocket seemed to be trying to drag him down through the chair, through the floor and eventually the crust of the earth itself. The anticipation was killing him, and he just wanted to get it over with, to know truly and fully that their future together was cemented in place.

  All the same, he knew he couldn’t rush this. This moment was so incredibly important that it had to come at the very best time. He would need to wait, to continue to pretend to be absolutely calm and relaxed even though he was so pent-up and nervous on the inside that it was a wonder he didn’t just implode.

  When Pascal returned with their drinks, Nathan ordered an appetizer of mussels and ordered the sea scallops and sweet pea risotto for his dinner. Simon chose the chicken and pasta, with mushroom cream sauce.

  Pascal thoroughly approved of all of their choices, exclaiming how each one was his favorite, or a specialty of the chef tonight. He left and returned only a few minutes later with the mussels, which came with triangular slices of pita bread.

  Their conversation abated momentarily as they ate. Nathan was hungry but he held back a little, letting Simon have his fill. Really, this was Simon’s night. It was his first experience with this, his first adventure into this sort of atmosphere. If he liked it, Nathan would ensure there was a lot more of it in the future.

  And if Simon hated it, well, there was always McDonalds.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  Nathan looked up to find his partner’s eyes glued to him, questioning and warm. Grabbing his cocktail, he took a deep gulp and hoped for some of that liquid courage everyone was always going on about. All he felt was a burn that went down his throat and exploded in his stomach before abating, leaving him feeling no different than before. Ah, well. It had been worth a short.

  “I was just hoping that you were enjoying yourself.”

  Simon glanced over at the platter of mussels, melted parmesan cheese on top slowly congealing into delicious, fatty clumps. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m hungry or because the food is good, but I think I am. I don’t even normally like seafood.”

  “Well, there’s plenty. So, eat up.”

  Simon didn’t have any qualms about obeying that command. By the time their dinner
arrived, he had nearly finished off the last of the mussels on his own.

  They ate their dinners leisurely, feeding each other little bites. Pascal kept dropping by to ask if they needed anything else, to share with them his wishes that they were enjoying themselves. However, his visits started to taper off so that he was bothering them less and less, and Nathan knew that the waiter was following yet another of the requests he had made when making his reservation. He didn’t want to be in the middle of his very important task tonight, only to be interrupted in an incredibly unromantic way by a waiter taking their dirty plates away.

  Simon didn’t seem to notice that anything was amiss. He wore the dreamy, sleepy expression of a satisfied wolf, one who would like nothing more than to nap for a few hours. The atmosphere had lulled him finally into a state of calm and acceptance, allowing him to really enjoy himself. They were just at any other restaurant, any other place in the entire world, spending time together without worries or judgment.

  Nathan wished he could be feeling the same way. The more time that passed, the more pent-up and nervous he felt. Everything seemed to be a little too sharp, too potent, realer than real. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system, though he’d called it off after only two cocktails and had long since switched to drinking plain water. It felt like he was buzzing, vibrating. The dread from before resurfaced with a vengeance, summoned by his mood, and he could do nothing to rid himself of it.

  I need to just do it. I need to get it over with. Before he starts noticing. I’ll hate myself if I fuck this up.

  He reached for his pocket so many times that Simon actually asked him if he was playing with himself under the table. After that, he tried to be more discrete, but that also meant he had fewer opportunities to go after the little jewelry box. That should have worked in his favor. He should have been able to psyche himself up for it, snatch the thing out, and get to business like a pro.

  The opposite actually happened. Left to think and think and think about that jewelry box, he started to worry himself out of his mind. Now he wasn’t the only thing buzzing. The entire world seemed to be pulsating around him, reverberating with empathy for his emotional conflict. He wanted to do this so badly. He needed to do this. He had everything set up perfectly. This was his chance. He wouldn’t get another opportunity quite like this.

  But he was paralyzed by his own desire, and it was going to tear him to pieces if he didn’t do it soon. Of course, that added more pressure on himself, which only continued to add to his dilemma. He had become a self-fulfilling prophecy, a vicious cycle of anxiety and more anxiety.

  Pascal came to take away their dinner dishes, and Nathan winced on the inside as he mentally ticked off all the chances he’d lost so far. They had crossed over the hump and were on the downward slope, and now he had very little time left to do what he so desperately needed to do.

  Pascal lingered. “How do you gentlemen feel about dessert?”

  “I specifically came here with him just for the dessert,” Simon replied.

  Laughing softly, Pascal nodded with appreciation. “That’s always my favorite part of any meal. Does it show?” He patted his firm stomach with one hand, yet another gesture that would have seemed overdone and trite, if the man hadn’t already proven himself to be so friendly and enthusiastic.

  Simon glanced appreciatively at the young waiter’s firm stomach, which made Nathan burn slightly with jealousy. Of course, he didn’t really have anything to be envious—especially if he actually managed to get that damn box out of his pocket—but maybe that was just a product of the roiling brew of emotions stewing inside him.

  The way to fix that is to do what I came here for, to get his attention on me. Goddammit, Nathan. You’re 40 years old. Just get your ass in gear and do it before you die of old age.

  “Tonight, we have three luxurious dessert choices for you,” Pascal said. “We have a beautiful crème brulee, completely made from scratch. We even make our own caramel. We also have a light, refreshing lemon sorbet, which I recommend for you, sir.” Pascal nodded towards Nathan. “It would be such a perfect pair with your scallop dinner. And lastly, but certainly not least, we also have a chocolate mousse. It’s creamy and delectable, but, I should warn you, also very rich.”

  Rich.

  Nathan froze. His breath stopped. Everything inside him completely jerked to a halt, like he had been in a car wreck and his head had snapped back. He could almost feel his joints creaking, popping, crackling with astonishment.

  Rich.

  Richard. Richard Cox.

  The man that had supposedly sent Tobias Noble after Simon. The man Nathan had said he was going to look into. And hadn’t.

  For months. He had forgotten for months, swept up in all his other duties that came with starting up the school year. There was no telling what that bastard had been up to through all of this time, no telling where he was. Simon could have been hurt at any point during these long weeks and it would have been all Nathan’s fault.

  “Are you okay, sir?”

  Pascal’s voice was very distant, as if he was calling from the end of a tunnel. Except, it wasn’t a tunnel. It was a hole, and Nathan was at the very bottom, in the dark, with soil and grit constantly sprinkling down on top of him. If he made the wrong move right now, the darkness would crash down on top of him and bury him.

  “Nathan!”

  That was Simon, sounding equally far away.

  Then, there was a touch on one of his hands, which was knotted in the tablecloth. He looked at his fist, wondering when exactly he’d made it. Broad, gentle fingertips stroked over his knuckles, trying to catch his attention.

  “Nathan.”

  Nathan blinked, looking closer at his fist. It felt like he had been having an out-of-body experience but was now slowly returning to himself. Sensations filtered back in and he tried to focus on them, particularly the warmth of Simon’s hand on his. “Sorry,” he said. His voice croaked, and he cleared his throat, then winced as it occurred to him that was a rude thing to do at the dinner table. Judging from the way Pascal and Simon were looking at him, they didn’t much care about such mistakes at a time like this.

  “Sorry,” he tried again. “I just thought about something. Zoned out a little.”

  “I’ll…” Pascal stammered a little, then managed to find his stride again, though his enthusiasm was muted. “I’ll get you that sorbet, shall I? It’s very refreshing. I’m sure it’ll help clear your mind. Good food can do that, you know.”

  “And I’ll have the mousse,” Simon said, looking suspiciously in Nathan’s direction.

  “Very good.” Pascal left them alone, though he didn’t serenely drift away; this time, he was practically running.

  Simon placed both of his hands on Nathan’s. It felt good to be held, even if it was just a relatively small part of himself, and Nathan leaned towards his companion for the comfort provided. “What the hell was that?” The roughness of his tone contrasted with the sharp edge of his words. “What happened, Nate?”

  “It just occurred to me that I completely forgot to check up on Richard Cox.”

  Simon’s shoulders suddenly went limp and relaxed. He leaned back and heaved an enormous sigh of relief. “Thank God, that’s all. I thought you were having a stroke or something. I got scared for a moment that I was going to have to raise this baby on my own.”

  Nathan straightened up a little. “Never. I’m sorry that I scared you. It won’t happen again.”

  “Do you really think that whole thing is so important?” Simon asked. “It’s just one stupid guy who probably steals shit for fun. It’s not like he’s going to be some sort of criminal mastermind. He sent Toby after me because Toby had a vague connection to me. How many other former students of mine do you think it’s plausible for him to know? Because I’d have to call that kind of reasoning a stretch.”

  “All the same.”

  Nathan stopped as Pascal returned with their desserts. He made an effort to sound normal whe
n he thanked the other man, and Pascal managed to smile in return. Some of the peaceful symmetry of before was returning, however gradually.

  Picking up his spoon, Nathan poked at his lemon sorbet. He twirled the spoon around in the dish, disturbing the perfect yellow circle. “All the same, I just remembered about him and it occurred to me that I meant to look into him and I never did. I panicked for a moment. It occurred to me that my neglect could possibly have put you in danger.”

  “Nate,” Simon said. His voice was blurry as he spoke around a mouthful of thick mousse. He swallowed thickly, then tried again. “The past is in the past. Nothing’s happened. I’m okay and so are you. You didn’t neglect anything, and you can still look into him later on.”

  “You’re right.” Pulling in a deep breath, Nathan tried to calm himself down. “Of course you’re right. You always are.”

  “You should say that more often. I really like it.” Simon smiled at him, then scooped up more of his dessert.

  Nathan looked down at his sorbet, which was melting from his spoon and dripping back into the dish. He put the spoon in his mouth and let the sweet, almost-overwhelming tang of lemons pull him right back into reality. It was refreshing. Pascal had been absolutely right about that. Whether or not this level of flavor could be considered light was another story.

  “I also like it when we have fun like this.” Simon looked at him with his serene green eyes, a gentle smile on his lips. There was a smudge of chocolate at the corner of his mouth and Nathan marked its position for later, so he could kiss it away. “You’re not as much of an old fuddy-duddy as you first seem.”

  “I think I owe that to you.” Nathan gazed intently into the eyes of his companion, not looking away. “You’ve helped me to loosen up through the time I’ve known you. There’s never anyone that I’ve actually been able to just talk to before. It’s always had to be ‘communication.’ Never just regular talk. Never just for fun.”

  Simon smiled more, until it stretched nearly ear from ear. He seemed to almost be glowing from joy. “The truth is, I think what we found is better than anything we really ever could have hoped for.” There was a strange sort of certainty in Simon’s voice when he spoke, as if he knew more than he was letting on. Nathan thought back to their conversation on how there was something Simon needed to tell him, but couldn’t figure out exactly how to do so. Could the two things be related?