“Well,” he says after the waiter leaves, “interesting choice for an outfit tonight. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to seduce me.”
“Good thing you know better,” I say in response.
“Ah. So… you’re not trying to turn me on, then?”
“I like the dress. I think I look pretty in it. If you’re turned on by it, that’s hardly on me, is it?”
He smirks in response. The waiter returns with our wine and the second he leaves, I take a sip from my glass. A merlot… it’sreally good.
“I only ask about the dress because you said this was a business dinner. Just us discussing the club.”
“I did say that,” I respond. “And I meant it. I also would like a chance to get to know you a little better. How everything started off between us was… well, it wasn’t the way I normally like to connect. I was hoping for a chance for the two of us to actually get to know one another like normal human beings.”
He chuckles and says, “There’s nothing normal about this relationship,” he says. “In any sense.”
He’s got me there. “Still. Don’t you want to know anything about the person running your club? I’d like to know some things about my boss.”
He nods sagely. “Interesting. I would think a straight arrow like you would rather not know the dark and dirty details of my life.”
“True… but that doesn’t mean you can’t tell me about the lighter ones. Like your daughter. When I asked if you were married you said, ‘Once upon a time.’ Care to elaborate on that?”
He takes a drink from his glass as his expression darkens. “Sasha’s mother died when she was young,” he says flatly. Suddenly, I feel like I just stepped in it.
“Oh, um, sorry, I didn’t?—”
“Please,” he says with a gentle smile. “Don’t apologize. I’ve had enough apologies about it to last me a lifetime. Plus, it’s not like you knew about it.”
That’s fair. “What happened to her? I mean, if you don’t mind talking about it.”
He pauses, looking off to the darkness beyond the patio, back toward the brick wall several yards away across a small grove of flowers behind the restaurant. “She was killed,” he says. “Stray bullet during a party.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. A million questions shoot through my mind. He sighs.
“Whatever you’re thinking, you might as well ask it.”
“I’m thinking I probably shouldn’t have asked at all.”
“Yeah, it is kind of a mood breaker. In any event, I’ve been a single father ever since.”
“How old was Sasha?”
“She’d just turned five. It happened when she was very young.”
I swallow hard. “It’s probably a good thing that it happened when she was so young. Losing a parent is tough.”
He nods, then his eyes narrow a little. “You say that like you have some experience.”
I shrug. “My dad. He, uh, he was a cop. Died in the line of duty.”
Roman raises an eyebrow and asks, “How old were you?”
“Fifteen,” she says. “Sometimes, I wonder if it would have been better if I were little when it happened. Not as many memories.”
He takes a drink from his glass solemnly, as if to have a drink for my poor departed father. “If he could see me now,” I add, “he’d be breakdancing in his grave.”
Roman laughs. It starts as a low rumble and flourishes into a full belly laugh. The sound of it is infectious and suddenly, I’m laughing too. Jesus, what’s wrong with us? “That isn’t funny,” I say, covering my mouth shamefully.
“Well, no, it isn’t. But you have to admit the irony is amusing. Listen to us. Poor, lonely souls with tragic back stories. It’s practically a Dickens tale. It also explains everything I’ve been trying to figure out about you. Your high sense of justice and your work ethic?—”
