It’s 7:15 pm. He’s been waiting here for her for fifteen minutes. Earlier today he’d been surprised to hear from Kenna, and all had been well in the world. Even six days later he knew her voice as soon as he heard it. Truth be told, he had almost given up on the thought that she was actually going to call him. Now he almost wished she hadn’t.
The Valle D’Aosta is a wonderful little Italian restaurant where Caleb’s had many a first date, but this is the first one who’s ever had the balls to stand him up. He leans back in his chair, nursing his second glass of water, and carefully watches the people on the sidewalk outside walk past, hoping to spot the amazing red-head he was waiting for.
7:23. “She has seven minutes,” he mumbles to himself.
It's 7:26 when a 1986 Mazda 323 comes zipping around the corner. It looks as if it was originally silver, but now it's a dull gray with spots of rust scattered across it. The car skids to a halt in front of an open space across the street, then jams into reverse.
The back bumper stops less than a quarter-inch from the front bumper of the car parked behind it. The wheels spin to the right and the car jerks forward, quick. Perfect park job.
And the redhead immerges.
She'd be stunning in her slinky green cocktail dress and strappy heels if she wasn't cursing up a storm-- in several different languages-- as she realizes she's parked next to a fire hydrant.
And with the sight his anger disappears, and a smile creeps across his face. He’d have strongly preferred she have been here on time, but this was worth waiting nearly a half hour for.
Kenna climbs back into the car, swearing the whole way. As she climbs inside it looks as if she drops something, and her head ducks out of view for a moment. She pops back up, keys in hand and still, obviously, cursing.
Her face falls as she realizes the vehicle that just stopped on the street in front of her is a delivery truck... and it's rear-end is blocking her in. A hopeless sigh and she rolls down the window, leaning out to call down the driver of the truck. A few sweet words yelled across the street and the driver falls over himself to move his vehicle.
The little mazda pulls out, u-turns in a business driveway at the end of the block, and disappears from sight.
Minutes later, Kenna enters the restaurant. She's shown over to the table and she gives Caleb a polite but tight smile as she sits down. "Sorry I'm late. Ye would not believe--"
"I think I might, actually." With a nod he gestures to the large window at the front of the reasturant. "I caught part of the show. When your face was to the resturant, I could even lip-read some of the more inventively combined expletives."
"Oh." She looks slightly embarassed, but no color comes to her cheeks. She just smiles and shrugs. "Hope it doesn't offend. Ye know how we Irish are... drink like a sailor, curse like a sailor. Which, speaking of--"
Kenna reaches for the wine list, perusing over it for a moment before she decides. "Know anythin' good? And no LPRs, either."
LPR - Liquid Panty Remover. It refers to a type of wine - usually a white wine - that is both highly alcoholic (by the standards of white wine, at any rate) and yet doesn't taste so. Usually it's so delicious that you just keep having more and more and more until either you're relaxed enough to admit you want to, or so drunk that you'd say yes to Oscar the Grouch. And Big Bird. Simultaneously.
And what's more, this place carries Caleb's favorite three LPRs, too.
His face is alight with pseudo-innocence, as he firmly presses his open palm against his chest in mock-insult. "My dear, whatever do you mean?"
She shakes her head and sighs. Either he's playing it cool, totally clueless, or just plain stupid. Or, he thinks she's stupid.
"Let's get right down to it. Ye're a nice boy, Caleb." She smiles at him, fully aware that this is one of those conversation starters that usually ends with two people parting ways.
"But I'm not stupid, either. I know yuir type. I know how ye operate. I'm not one of those girls, though. I like ye well enough. I'd like to know ye better. But let's not kid ourselves about the real reason ye asked me out, shall we? I hate being patronized, and f'r all that, it's pointless. So why don't we cut the crap?"
The smile vanishes from Caleb’s face as he sits back and gives Kenna a serious look, though it’s obviously not intended to be either angry or annoyed. Merely serious.
“If, uh … if we’re both putting all of our cards on the table, then, allow me to draw attention to two pieces of information.
“First of all, you’re right, I am interested in you physically, but that’s hardly the only reason I’ve asked you out. Quite frankly you interest me.
“Second of all, it was your belief that I was interested in a purely physical interchange, and yet you still contacted me.” The coy smile returns. “Is that because you have a similar interest, or because you share my ulterior motive?”
So he's only partially full of shit. It doesn't change things, at least not substantially. Not yet.
He's got her with his second little piece of information, but she has no intention of telling him that. She just grins and goes back to perusing the wine list. "I like ye well enough."
“Well, I’m certainly glad to hear that,” he says as he again leans forward, and examines his menu. This woman is giving him so many mixed signals that it’s absolutely maddening. Either she wants to sleep with him, or she doesn’t. Either she likes being around him, or she finds him to be an irritating little man. Maybe she doesn’t even know what she wants.
And yet, Caleb is even more intrigued by her for it. This Kenna is something of a mystery - and Caleb loves solving mysteries. The screaming orgasms that follow are just a sort of fringe benefit.
“Tell me, what, uh … Why are you so apprehensive around me? From the moment we first spoke you seemed as though you were ready to mace me.”
"If I was going to hurt ye, it wouldn't be with mace," she remarks casually. "It isn't very effective on people high on methamphetamines or heavily inebriated, and it does'nae work on animals. People can also build up a resistance to it. Pepper spray, too. S'why I don't use either."
Conveniently leaving out what her alternative is.
She closes the wine menu, leaning back in her chair as she sets the menu down. "Let's just say I've had a bad experience with... immigrants. By my nature, I've also..." She fidgets, looking extremely uncomfortable with her next words. "Met a few bad apples. And as they say, one bad apple ruins the bunch."
His mind may have begun to try to figure out if this woman was some form of martial artist or owns a gun, but it takes less than a second for his curiosity to get the best of him.
“Would, uh… Would I be going too far if I inferred that your alternative means of self-defense is a direct result of one or more of these bad apples?”
Too bad Caleb doesn't know Kenna well enough to understand what a big opening he just gave her. People have called her many things in her years, but 'braggot' has to be the truest one. Well, next to 'thief', 'double-crosser' and 'amazing sex Goddess', at least.
"Not all of it," she says. Her eyes roll to the ceiling as she thinks. "Only thhhhheee... Hapkido. Pa Kua, Tai Chi. Regional Capoeira was my favorite, it worked well with my speed, but I'm not sure why I took that up. I never thought I had the power f'r it."
So, it’s martial arts then. Makes sense, given how well built she appears to be. So much the better.
“Oh, only those? I, uh …. it must have taken quite a while to master all those disciplines.” He smiles the whole time he says that. It’s not a mischievous or a phony smile, more of a surprised one.
“Still, rotten shame you found yourself in a position to need to know all that. Seems silly that in this day and age that we still have so many people about without the civility to solve their problems without resorting to violence.”
Ye don't know the half of it... she thinks bitterly. There's a sadness to her eyes, but she just shrugs. "Well." She swallows a little hard. "Time will pass. And in time, all things heal."
The Valle D’Aosta is a wonderful little Italian restaurant where Caleb’s had many a first date, but this is the first one who’s ever had the balls to stand him up. He leans back in his chair, nursing his second glass of water, and carefully watches the people on the sidewalk outside walk past, hoping to spot the amazing red-head he was waiting for.
7:23. “She has seven minutes,” he mumbles to himself.
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The back bumper stops less than a quarter-inch from the front bumper of the car parked behind it. The wheels spin to the right and the car jerks forward, quick. Perfect park job.
And the redhead immerges.
She'd be stunning in her slinky green cocktail dress and strappy heels if she wasn't cursing up a storm-- in several different languages-- as she realizes she's parked next to a fire hydrant.
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Her face falls as she realizes the vehicle that just stopped on the street in front of her is a delivery truck... and it's rear-end is blocking her in. A hopeless sigh and she rolls down the window, leaning out to call down the driver of the truck. A few sweet words yelled across the street and the driver falls over himself to move his vehicle.
The little mazda pulls out, u-turns in a business driveway at the end of the block, and disappears from sight.
Minutes later, Kenna enters the restaurant. She's shown over to the table and she gives Caleb a polite but tight smile as she sits down. "Sorry I'm late. Ye would not believe--"
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Kenna reaches for the wine list, perusing over it for a moment before she decides. "Know anythin' good? And no LPRs, either."
Reply
And what's more, this place carries Caleb's favorite three LPRs, too.
His face is alight with pseudo-innocence, as he firmly presses his open palm against his chest in mock-insult. "My dear, whatever do you mean?"
Reply
"Let's get right down to it. Ye're a nice boy, Caleb." She smiles at him, fully aware that this is one of those conversation starters that usually ends with two people parting ways.
"But I'm not stupid, either. I know yuir type. I know how ye operate. I'm not one of those girls, though. I like ye well enough. I'd like to know ye better. But let's not kid ourselves about the real reason ye asked me out, shall we? I hate being patronized, and f'r all that, it's pointless. So why don't we cut the crap?"
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“If, uh … if we’re both putting all of our cards on the table, then, allow me to draw attention to two pieces of information.
“First of all, you’re right, I am interested in you physically, but that’s hardly the only reason I’ve asked you out. Quite frankly you interest me.
“Second of all, it was your belief that I was interested in a purely physical interchange, and yet you still contacted me.” The coy smile returns. “Is that because you have a similar interest, or because you share my ulterior motive?”
Reply
He's got her with his second little piece of information, but she has no intention of telling him that. She just grins and goes back to perusing the wine list. "I like ye well enough."
Reply
And yet, Caleb is even more intrigued by her for it. This Kenna is something of a mystery - and Caleb loves solving mysteries. The screaming orgasms that follow are just a sort of fringe benefit.
“Tell me, what, uh … Why are you so apprehensive around me? From the moment we first spoke you seemed as though you were ready to mace me.”
Reply
Conveniently leaving out what her alternative is.
She closes the wine menu, leaning back in her chair as she sets the menu down. "Let's just say I've had a bad experience with... immigrants. By my nature, I've also..." She fidgets, looking extremely uncomfortable with her next words. "Met a few bad apples. And as they say, one bad apple ruins the bunch."
Reply
“Would, uh… Would I be going too far if I inferred that your alternative means of self-defense is a direct result of one or more of these bad apples?”
Reply
"Not all of it," she says. Her eyes roll to the ceiling as she thinks. "Only thhhhheee... Hapkido. Pa Kua, Tai Chi. Regional Capoeira was my favorite, it worked well with my speed, but I'm not sure why I took that up. I never thought I had the power f'r it."
Reply
“Oh, only those? I, uh …. it must have taken quite a while to master all those disciplines.” He smiles the whole time he says that. It’s not a mischievous or a phony smile, more of a surprised one.
“Still, rotten shame you found yourself in a position to need to know all that. Seems silly that in this day and age that we still have so many people about without the civility to solve their problems without resorting to violence.”
Reply
She goes back to the wine menu.
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