It was an understated kind of upscale restaurant with exposed brick walls, black built-in cabinets with wine, dark wood chairs and tables draped in white linen.
We were led to the centermost table by a server in a white shirt with black slacks and a black vest. He handed us each a menu and asked Milo about wine.
“Do you want something else?” Milo asked me, likely remembering my words from the night before.
“Red sounds good,” I said with a soft smile. When Milo finished ordering, I shrugged. “I don’t like my boss thinking I drink,” I admitted.
“I get that. He and his friends are… a lot.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it,” I agreed, offering the server a smile as he came back with the wine, pouring Milo a taste, then giving us each a full pour.
“How long have you been singing there?”
“Just shy of a year.”
“Have you always been a singer?”
“Yes. My mom put me in beauty pageants as a girl. Singing was my talent. But beauty pageants eventually led to modeling. So singing was just something I did in the shower or car for years.”
“But you loved it.”
“It was all I ever wanted to do. I knew that modeling had an expiration date. And it was getting closer every year. I wanted to give my dream a try.”
“In Atlantic City.”
“I know,” I said, shaking my head. “I think I was a little scared of failure. I wanted to try my luck in a smaller pond.”
“You’re better than you think you are. What’s the plan when you see that?”
“Maybe a different city. New York. Vegas. If that doesn’t work out, there’s always… teaching singing. Enough about me. What do you do?”
“Business. Not nearly as interesting as singing.”
We each flipped open our menus, and I tried not to panic that it was the kind of fancy where the prices weren’t even listed.
Milo ordered the sausage carbonara.
I went for the pasta in vodka sauce.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked once the server walked off.
“Sure,” I agreed, taking a sip of wine that was both sweet and tart at the same time.
“What do you think of your boss?”
“Frank?” I asked, wondering if this was a situation where I should be honest or not.
“I’m not trying to get you in trouble,” he clarified. “To be perfectly honest with you, I can’t stand the guy.”
“That’s the right instinct. He’s… slimy. Out for himself. Abuses his power.”
“Saw him almost grabbing ass last night.”
“He thinks that his employees belong to him. Especially the women.”
“Except he can’t have you. And that makes him want you more.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
