She was there. She was always there on Tuesdays.
No, not the redhead, thank god.
I scowled, thinking of Lexi—her messy clothes, her unruly red hair, leaving me notes in my underwear drawer.
“Good to see you again, sir,” the bartender greeted me.
Behind me, I heard her laugh.
“Could I have today’s menu?” I asked in a low voice.
He slipped the embossed cardstock across the bar to me.
“Take your time.”
I didn’t actually study the menu. I wasn’t going to eat what I’d order anyway.
Isn’t this the mark of insanity, to do the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result?
“I’ll have the spinach salad,” I said when the bartender came back over, “the baked chicken, and the risotto.”
“You know,” the bartender said, “you can call ahead to order, and we can have it waiting for your assistant. You must be a busy man.”
He seemed slightly apprehensive when I frowned, thinking of Lexi at the restaurant, with her toxic positivity, glitter, and the slightly too-tight clothes.
I relaxed my features.
“I never know what I want to order until I arrive,” I murmured, not wanting to draw attention to myself. “But thank you for the suggestion.”
I waited and watched the mirror while the chef prepared the food, twisting a glass of water around on the coaster.
“Couldyou add dessert to the order?” I asked the server when he came out with the food.
At the table behind me, the children were laughing as the grandfather told a silly joke.
“Yes, sir. Any preference?”
“Whatever is on hand.”
“Cake? Cannoli?”
“Cake is fine.” Anything was fine. This was just an excuse to remain a little longer in the sumptuous space.
The clock ticked as one of the servers carefully cut a slice of chocolate cake for me.
“Thank you,” I said. “Oh, and could you add desserts for that table over there? Put it on my card.” I inclined my head slightly.“Just please tell them that it was compliments of the chef, not me.”
“Of course, sir.”
I lingered as I pretended to calculate the tip in my head and signed the receipt. Then I collected the bag of food I wasn’t going to eat and exited the restaurant.
“See you next week!” the hostess chirped.
The experience had left me drained. I set the food in the back of my car and sat there in silence.
“You still have more items on your list,” I said aloud. I wanted to go home. I was exhausted. But it wasn’t like I’d be able to sleep.
I turned on the car and wrapped a navy scarf around my neck and jaw.
