Their table was nicely out of the way of the rest of the restaurant, and Bruno held the chair for Clarice. The centerpiece was Christmas themed, with a fake candle flickering a little too perfectly.
“Oh, wow. Thank you. Gosh, this is so fancy!”
Bruno sat down opposite her and put his napkin in his lap before he could forget to.
“Can I get you started with some drinks?” the hostess asked.
“Oh no,” Clarice said. “I mean, I’d better not. I can barely walk in these heels as it is.”
Bruno waffled. A beer would be good, and he knew that the relaxing aspects of alcohol would be welcome, but he didn’t want to be the only one drinking. “Root beer,” he said firmly.
“Oh, I didn’t even think about a soda,” Clarice laughed nervously. “I’d love a ginger ale. Please.”
When the hostess had gone to take their order to the bar, Clarice played with her napkin. “I don’t drink a lot. Of booze, I mean. I’m kind of a lightweight. Not that I’m really lightweight. And I have to drive home, of course. Not that I couldn’t drive home after one drink and a whole meal. But I like to play it safe. Arrive alive!”
“Better safe than sorry,” Bruno agreed. “You look great.”
It was odd to see her eyes without glasses, and they were larger and brighter than Bruno had expected. He wasn’t sure how much of that was the magic of makeup, but she looked unsettlingly different and he found that he liked her both ways. Her dress had a low enough neckline that it was an effort not to let his gaze drift down.
“It’s a thrift store find,” Clarice said, tugging on one of the shoulders. “Las Vegas has some amazing second hand stores. Lots of show costumes, of course, but also plenty of fancy clothes. I always wonder if someone pawned something this nice because they lost all their money gambling. I like to make up stories about some of the things I find. Sorry, it’s silly.”
“I think it’s charming,” Bruno said honestly. “Maybe it was owned by a foreign duchess who fell in love with a male escort in Las Vegas and sold her wardrobe to elope with him.”
Clarice gave a laugh of pure delight. “Maybe they got married by Elvis and moved to Ohio, where they now have seven kids. Do you think she has regrets?”
“No,” Bruno said confidently. “She’s still madly in love and is a soccer mom and member of the PTA. She’d be very glad that her gown was being worn on a first date in Montana, now.”
Clarice smoothed it down over her lap. “I love it!”
Bruno couldn’t help but watch her over the top of his menu as they discussed the meal options. When she let go of her nervousness, she was funny and quick-witted.
“Good evening! I’m Theo and I’ll be your…waiter tonight.” The little hiccup was as the man put their drinks down and recognized Bruno. Theo was the father of Darius and Jackson, and one of his clients. Bruno told himself this wouldn’t make things awkward at all, then realized that Clarice’s ears were bright red again. Theo was very handsome, he thought jealously.
“Do you need a little more time with the menu?” Theo asked lightly.
“I’d appreciate that,” Bruno said before he thought to consult with Clarice.
She took a sip of ginger ale as Theo left, coughed, and laughed awkwardly. “Bubbles!”
Bruno studied the menu while she caught her breath.
“I had to look up the menu in advance,” Clarice admitted. “I like to come prepared. I had completely settled on the asparagus-stuffed chicken breast, but now that I’m here, the shrimp pasta looks so good.”
Bruno selected a roast pork dish and Clarice decided on the shrimp.
“You said you liked to cook,” Bruno said, after their orders had been taken. “What do you like to cook best?”
“Baking is probably my favorite,” Clarice said. “Brownies. Cookies. Sourdough bread. My sourdough’s name is Frank, short for Frankenstein.”
“I love that,” Bruno said honestly. “The only things Ibake are the biscuits in tubes and frozen pizzas.” Food was a safe conversation topic. Bruno frequently started his sessions with the harmless subject. He recalled his promise not to diagnose her. Did using professional techniques for conversation starters count? Could he ever truly turn theshrinkpart of his brain off? Tracy certainly didn’t think he could.
“Sorry,” Clarice said, just as Bruno was feeling guilty for thinking about his ex. “I just…I’m really sure I met our waiter in Las Vegas. He was hired for a birthday party I was at.”
Bruno had been taking a sip of his root beer and he nearly spit it out. “Theo is a?—?”
“Not a stripper,” Clarice hastened to explain. “He was just an escort. He made sure no one got separated from the party at the casino or taken advantage of while looking like arm candy. He probably made a hundred dollars in tips off of all the tipsy girls. I doubt he recognizes me. I’d be mortified. This is soawkward!”
Bruno could not help but laugh. “Well, I’ve been not only his shrink, but also his teen son’s so I probably win if there’s an awkward competition.” That much wasn’t violating any confidentiality, and he knew that it would set Clarice at ease…and he was right.
