Take her to an upscale buffet, Diego thought. What could go wrong, he thought? Ladies liked picking toppings for salads and selecting tiny squares of cake, and pretty little Mia Fey was a lady so she'd definitely find something on the buffet to enjoy nibbling.
It was when Mia finished her first plate of prime rib and sides in under a minute that Diego began to realize his mistake.
"Shouldn't be long on that second prime rib coming out of the oven," Mia chirped, returning with another heaped plate. "The buffet attendant said ten minutes and I'm going to hold him to it."
"You don't want to wait a bit before Round 2, kitten?" Diego asked.
Sitting down, Mia stared quizzically at him. "And let this food get cold? That's not happening." She then began packing that plate in, bite by bite. "So," she said around a mouthful, "what's the problem with the Guntherman case?"
This was technically a business lunch, if old man Grossberg bothered to ask. So Diego supposed he could stand to do a token few minutes of business. Pushing his once hearty-looking but now damn near emasculating plate to one side, and taking reassuring hold of his coffee mug, he pulled a folded packet of trial notes from his back pocket. "Well, the problem isn't the witness. She's got her head in the clouds … but the view from up there can't be beat."
"Mmhmm."
"And what we're thinking now is that her sister was managing the hedge fund, which would mean … that …"
How could Diego be expected to concentrate on some case when Plate #2 disappeared in less time than an opening statement? Just gone. And Mia was dabbing gravy from her lips with a napkin, still looking fresh as a daisy.
"Her sister knew about the updated will, right?" She swallowed, and pointed to Diego's plate with her fork of destruction. "Aren't you hungry?"
Leaning onto one elbow, Diego replied, "Y-You can have it if you want, kitten."
Mia laughed. "That's cute, Diego. You're cute." And with the adorable smile of a woman bent on destruction, she left the table again, headed back to the buffet.
The second her back was turned, Diego sucked back a gulp of the bitter black comfort that was his coffee while scrambling for his phone. Eight minutes. They had walked through the door eight minutes ago and Mia wasn't even slowing down. She was piling mashed potatoes on a plate like a snowdrift in Antarctica, topping them with an entire lobster, and returning to the table as determined as could be.
Across the room, two waiters whispered to one another — and one of them pointed to Mia. They had probably just never seen a beautiful, well-toned woman like her go back for a third helping this quickly. Yeah, hopefully that was it.
"So," Mia prompted him as she sat back down and took the big, armoured lobster between her delicate little hands, "The witness's sister…?"
Diego very smoothly glanced to his notes to remember what the hell was happening.
"The sister must have known about the deal. Bet the farm on that. But when you bet the farm, sometimes the cows can…can … uh." Over the snapping of shells, he croaked, "Hey, kitten, how's that tasting?"
"Not bad. The garlic butter's nice." Mia flicked her bangs out of her eyes, and turned that lovely smile to Diego for a blessed moment. "But, you know, they only put out seafood in the shell to try to slow people down."
"Ha…! Doesn't look like it's working."
"Oh, no, they'll need to try much harder than this." Mia popped a last morsel of lobster into her mouth, shoved the defeated shells onto her previous plate, and picked up a spoon to tear into the potatoes.
How was she even idoing/i it was what Diego wanted to know. There was an efficiency to her movements, like a world-class eating competitor. iWas/i Mia a world-class eating competitor? Look into that, he noted to himself as Mia stacked her empty plates and left for a refill.
Diego then threw back the last of his coffee, which meant that he needed a refill — and that was when he caught sight of the two waiters across the dining floor. They were talking to a balding, manager-looking man — who was narrowing his eyes in Mia's direction. She didn't catch it, with her back to the manager and her attention on carrying the hefty pile of glazed ribs on her newest plate.
"They have prime rib and barbeque," she enthused as she sat back down. "That's how you know a buffet is worth going to."
The manager had disappeared, which was either a good thing or a terrible thing. Hopefully the first one. Diego looked twice into his empty coffee mug and said, "If you can do both and do them well, always do both."
"That's a good way to look at it," she replied.
However impossible it was, Mia was still going. Really leaning into the "all-you-can-eat" part of the experience. The important part, Diego supposed, was that this special lady was happy. He could make that rule if he wanted. He tucked the trial notes back into his pocket and leaned in. "Only the best for you today, kitten."
She put a sauce-glistening beef rib into her mouth and sucked it entirely clean, god he was terrified and just a little turned on. "Thanks for suggesting this place," Mia said. "I'm having a great time."
There, now his plan was working. Got through it like a pro. With a rakish smile, Diego said, "Why don't we make a regular habit of it."
She shook her head. "Probably not."
"Come again, kitten?"
She pushed a plate of squeaky-clean bones aside. "Well, not at this restaurant, I mean. Sneaking back in just once is easy, and that's exactly what we did. Um, Diego? You should finish your plate if you're going to."
"...Sneaking in," he started just as he spotted the manager — headed toward them, across the sea of set tables. In the man's hand was a sheet of paper with a layout like a wanted poster and a centered picture of someone who sure looked like Mia.
"Ms. Fey," the manager intoned.
At the sight of him, Mia blanched and hurried to wipe her rib-sauced hands in napkins. "I should have told you," she hissed to Diego, "I have, um. A history at this place."
"A history?! That seems need-to-know!" He hated to run off on just one coffee but it looked like there weren't going to be any refills.
She jumped up, snatching her purse. "Sure, I'll tell you all about it. Please make sure to pay the man, Diego? Thanks!"
It was not the first time Diego would throw approximately enough cash onto a restaurant table before fleeing, and it definitely wouldn't be the last.