JJ, if that was his real name, which even my possibly brain fevered self had doubts about, wasn't a horrible date. He kept his hands to himself, only holding my chair and the door for me. We'd walked, he'd convinced me that Enzo's wasn't far and the evening was pretty temperate, so I agreed. The entire trip was spent making idle talk, and me sharing more than he did.
He held the door of Enzo's open for me and the scent of tomatoes and garlic hit my nose so heavily that I started to have second thoughts about my possible brain damage. Could you smell things when you were knocked loopy? I considered that as the hostess led the way to a small table in a dark corner, and as I sat in the chair JJ held out for me I still wasn't sure. I mean on one side, it could be the memory of the scents that I knew Enzo's for, but on the other hand it was almost too strong to be a memory.
"You alright, Charlotte?" JJ had taken his seat across the small table from me, the tiny lamp that looked like the cliché candle in a wine bottle lighting his face barely. "It almost looks like-"
"If a person has a concussion or brain trauma can they hallucinate smells?" Cutting him off while also giving the waitress my drink order as she stared at me in surprise wasn't something I'd usually do, but this felt extremely important, plus the walk had made me thirsty.
Staring at me in shock as he gave his own order to the waitress, I waited for him to answer me. "I'm not sure-" he finally offered, glancing down at the menu. "What do you recommend?"
Brain damage, I thought to myself, since a normal conversation wouldn't easily be diverted from the curiosity of why I'd ask. "I prefer the chicken alfredo with broccoli, but I don't know if you're more a red or white sauce type of guy."
His soft smile made me settle back into the idea that regardless of whether I was completely screwed brain wise, at least I was safe. "I can eat either, actually I can eat damn near anything." I grinned and that started us off on what the grossest thing he could possibly stand eating could be.
The waitress returned, happy to see that the table seemed to have returned to normal. "Here Char," I looked up and realized it was Carrie DiMarco, Enzo's daughter waiting on us. Shit, how out of it was I? "You look a little more-"
"Myself?" I asked, wondering why she was waiting tables since normally she was the me to Enzo's version of The Little Drip. "Yeah, I had a minute. Why are you-"
A rueful smile and she told me that they were short staffed since two of the waitresses and one hostess had all gone out on maternity leave at once. I raised my eyebrow. "Good thing you didn't order the water, right?" I chuckled and started to order, but she rolled her eyes. "Char, you've been coming in here since you and I were toddlers, you're gonna have the chicken alfredo with broccoli, a half order of the garlic bread, and for the love of God," she crossed herself causing another giggle to escape my lips. "NO parmesan cheese." I smirked. "Now, what will you be having?" She'd turned her attention to JJ and waited, no pen or paper in her hand.
JJ went safe, spaghetti and meatballs, and he smiled at me and said he didn't mind parmesan cheese. She left and he studied me as I took a long drink from my glass. "What?" I was starting to feel self conscious with his attention on me. "Do I already have something on my face?"
Shaking his head, he sat back. "No, it's just-" He took a deep breath and asked me if I always lived in the little coastal town I was born in.
"Most of my life," I smiled as I moved the silverware a few centimeters over. "I went away for college, but my uncle wanted to retire and move to Florida, and he knew I loved The Little Drip as much as he did, so he asked me to take over for him." He knew I loved to bake, that I had no direction, and he wanted to be sure that I was safe and taken care of, I thought, but that wasn't something anyone really knew.
"Your uncle and you are close?" Carrie had returned with a basket of bread and I shook my head at the amount she'd brought.
"What? Just because you watch the carbs doesn't mean he does," she nodded toward JJ. "I mean look at him, he looks like he might need to keep up his strength." I grinned at her and saw JJ's eyes widen. Oh dear God, had he never been flirted with at all?
"Yeah, he might waste away and poof a good stiff wind will carry him away." I winked at JJ and saw him swallow hard.
"A damn shame if that happens," she was shaking her head as she walked away and I caught him staring at her swaying hips. I had to fight back another laugh.
"Yes," I answered, when he turned his attention back to the table. "My uncle and I are close." He'd raised me, after Mom- I pushed the really sad thought aside and pushed the bread basket toward him. "The bread here is amazing, I HAVE to watch myself with it because I'd fill up on it alone and then I wouldn't have room for the homemade pasta."
The rest of the date was much like the start of it. It was more like a friendly dinner, which was nice, if not earth shattering. We started back toward the shop, and I was about to ask him about his connection to Clay and the others, thinking that the few beers he'd had while we enjoyed Enzo's offerings might have loosened his lips, but I stopped when I saw the orange glow coming from the direction of The Little Drip. Orange and smoke. Shit.
"Is that-" I started moving faster, praying internally that I hadn't left the business that my uncle entrusted me with to a bunch of fucking psycho arsonists' hands. JJ kept up with me easily, that happens when you run with a giant, I guess.
I turned the corner to the street I lived and worked on and gave a relieved sigh that I felt immediately guilty about when I noticed that while The Little Drip was safe and untouched, the building across the street was not. I had no idea what the building was currently used as, it had changed hands so many times that it was hard to keep up, but now it was a smoldering ruin with police and firemen working to figure everything out.
I noticed, absently, that JJ was still with me, walking me all the way up the backstairs to my apartment, but I honestly couldn't say what we said in parting. I could still see what was left of the flames flickering up the building across the street, and sighed knowing that my bedroom windows faced it. The door was locked behind me, and in a fog I tugged off the dress and kicked off my shoes, pulling back on my ragged shirt and shorts and worked hard to make the blinds in my bedroom close enough to almost blur out the scene that was still happening beyond the glass. Almost, but even as I closed my eyes to try to sleep before my early morning alarm, I could still see the smoke and the orange tinge the sky had taken from the fire. And I could swear that the smell of smoke was soaking through the apartment and invading my nose.
