I step inside the dimly lit restaurant and ask the hostess if Brian has arrived yet. He hasn’t, but she mentions that he’s reserved a table for us and invites me to sit down and order a drink while I wait. She walks me past a heavily stocked bar and into the main dining area. I am blown away by what I see. The interior of the restaurant is made from exotic wood, including the walls, ceiling, and the table tops themselves.
There’s a stage where two young musicians are setting up - a young Asian girl wearing white cloth overalls and sporting a half-shaved head which exposes a gauged ear, her silky black hair hanging to her chin on the other side. Her African-American partner wears a gray fedora to match his suit coat, paired with a casual undershirt and blue jeans. The stage has an array of instruments ready and I wonder if the two of them will be playing that many gizmos in one night.
We cut through the small dance area in front of the stage, past a game room where people are playing billiards and shuffleboard, to finally reach the table reserved for Brian and me. The hostess tells me he specifically requested this spot because it’s in front of a large window overlooking the river that rushes through the flower gardens out back.
She lights a candle on the table and tells me she will return with a glass of their finest wine. I start to protest, but she assures me that Brian will be okay with it.
“The Millers are some of our best customers at the Matterhorn. Mr. Miller always treats his guests to the finest items on the menu, and we deliver the finest service to him and his friends in return. I’ll be back with a decadent Italian Merlot and some French bread for you, Miss. Mr. Miller should be arriving shortly, and if there is anything else I can get you in the meantime, please let me know.”
I thank the waitress and sit admiring the view out the window. After a little while, the hipster duo begins to play music, drawing a few couples out to the floor to dance. This is definitely not like the dive bars I’m accustomed to because the patrons are quite a bit older, mostly in their thirties and forties from the looks of it. They’re well-dressed, the men in suits and the women in elegant work-appropriate dresses. Yeah, this is really different from the loud music and raucous beats at the places I usually frequent.
I’m beginning to grow impatient; it’s already ten to eight and still no sign of Brian. I hold off on pouring a second glass of wine. I’ll be damned if I make the same mistake I made two months ago.
Finally, I see my manager swaggering towards me. He’s dressed nicely, with his black locks brushed back casually. I suppose he looks good at first glance, when that raven hair and tall frame. However, I can’t help but notice how rail-thin he looks tonight. The suit really accentuates his body’s gaunt appearance.
He’s taking his time making his way back to our table, just as he took his sweet time arriving tonight. He’s stopping at every couple of tables to greet someone, patting them on the back or leaning in for a handshake, like he’s a Mafia don. The problem is that he’s way too young, and even from here, I can see a dot of red cystic acne on his chin.
Once he is finally close enough to the table to make direct eye contact with me, he decides to show off by swiveling around on his heels and doing a finger gun motion in my direction.
“Megan, you look ravishing tonight. Clearly, someone’s trying to impress me,” he says with a wink. I intentionally dressed as professionally as possible, trying to somehow spin this date into a work-related dinner. I should have known better because Brian’s floating in his own fantasy. This boy thinks he is hot shit, but he’s actually acting like a total tool. His navy blue fitted suit brings out the red tint flushing his face, signaling to me that he is already drunk. This explains his late arrival, not to mention his ridiculous demeanor. Unfortunately, pre-gaming is probably pretty standard for Brian.
“Oh, it’s just what I wore to work today. Thank you though,” I say tightly.
He sits down and pours us both a glass of wine. He holds his glass up gesturing that he would like to propose a toast.
“To finally getting back together.”
I smile politely, and clink my glass to his before taking a big gulp of wine. The alcohol does make me feel better at least.
The waitress comes back around and chats with Brian for a few minutes as if he is an old friend. He stares at her cleavage the whole time, and she has got to notice this happening. He must tip very well for her to not cover up every time he is seated in her section.
He orders us an appetizer platter: an assortment of meats, cheeses, crackers, fruit, and a variety of jams and other dipping sauces. I will say, while the date itself is not ideal, the wine and the food are fantastic at least.
Unfortunately, conversation between us feels forced, but does my date realize? No. Brian is explaining grand ideas to me such as successful business strategies, building diverse stock portfolios, and even the overall meaning and purpose of life, like he’s some kind of wise guru.
“You see, we must help drive the economy forward. If we aren’t contributing to the monetary flow that keeps our society afloat, what kind of world will we leave behind for our kids, not to mention our grandkids?”
“What about the environment?” I counter, thinking this an obvious point. He shoots me a pitiful, patronizing glance.
“Megan, what good is a beautiful backdrop
