Chapter 4

Kate actually felt grateful when her taxi pulled up to the restaurant and she was once again able to stand firmly on solid ground. Her calf muscle twitched as it settled, a thank you, no doubt, for its relief from the incessant bounce Kate's nerves had subjected it to the entire ride over.

She stood for a moment in the evening air of late spring, as other couples walked past on their way in and out of love, and she thought of her father. He told her nearly every time he saw her how much she deserved happiness in her life, how life's unpredictability wasn't always cruel, how taking a chance was what filled his world with love. She wanted to believe his words, wanted to believe she was capable of welcoming such joy, and as she turned to pull open the restaurant's door, she made the decision to keep her mind open to that Friday night as well.

There was a palpable buzz inside, the freedom of weekend alive in every corner. Kate arrived early for their reservation- not I-can't-wait-for-this-date-to-begin early, but rather the-cabbie-drove-like-a-maniac early- and none of the well-dressed few around her stood alone. But she was a cop, and a thorough one at that, so she stepped up to the maître d' and inquired as to her date's arrival.

"I'm sorry, Ms…"

"Beckett," she replied emphatically. Her name was certain. She was very fond of certain.

"Yes, Ms. Beckett. I'm sorry, but your party hasn't arrived as yet. Would you care to take a seat in the lounge until Mr. Davidson arrives?"

Kate had little desire to stand self-consciously in wait, wondering with every pull of the door if the stranger coming through belonged to her. She agreed to the temporary detour, though suddenly nervous as to the level of cooperation she'd get from her restless leg if she sat down again, and was escorted to the lounge. She settled onto the soft leather of one of the high chairs at the bar next to a group of boisterous young women with pink cocktails, took a peek at the time on her phone, and ordered herself a Manhattan.

Surely twenty minutes would fly right by.

xxxx

Despite his daughter's admonition, Rick almost decided to go with the blue tie. He kind of liked it, truth be told, and he'd paid a decent sum for it years back, enough to act as incentive for him to keep it hanging with his others. He knew it was probably a big strike against that his mother always liked it, but her taste in fashion wasn't entirely without merit. Not entirely.

He stepped out of the taxi in front of the restaurant and pulled his charcoal grey tie back into place against the pristine white of his shirt, the evening breeze having lifted it whimsically from his chest. The grey was much more suited to his mood than the blue, it turned out, and Alexis had given it her seal of approval, which, from a teenager, was no small thing.

Glancing at his watch, he sighed audibly in objection to his own early arrival. Maybe his date's reading had finished early, he thought, though he still had no frame of reference as to what exactly that referred to. Maybe she was already inside. Maybe this could all end early and he could still find a way to salvage the evening. Before he knew it, he was through the front door with a spring of desperate hope alive in his step.

He glanced around the entryway as he made his way toward the maître d', but there was no one resembling any kind of Missee with two [e]s in sight. Plan B was booze, which suited him just fine. One drink surely wasn't going to hurt any. In fact, he thought it might actually help, if past experience was any indicator.

"Gilles, my friend, it's great to see you again. It's been too long." Rick reached for the dark-suited man's hand with amiable enthusiasm.

"Ah, Mr. Castle, I was most pleased to see your name on our guest list for the evening. It's been too long, indeed." He smiled warmly and continued. "You're a bit early, though, Mr. Castle. Is your party with you?"

"I am, Gilles, yes. I thought I might enjoy one of your famous cocktails in the lounge while I await my date for the evening. Would that be alright?"

He stepped out from behind his station and nodded at Rick. "I'll escort you myself, Mr. Castle."

Gilles led him into the lounge and assured him he'd be informed as soon as his date arrived.

Rick pulled a clip of cash from his pocket and handed his guide a bill. "Give me a few extra minutes, Gilles, and there's another in it for you." He winked and laughed.

Gilles laughed as well, having no idea just how serious Rick actually was.

xxxx

Kate looked down at her glass and realized it was already half empty. It surprised her for a moment until the group of girls next to her erupted in simultaneous cackle. The Case of the Quickly Vanishing Alcohol was solved very quickly, then- yet another Detective Beckett success story. In that moment, she would've taken any date at all over her neighbors at the bar. She couldn't help but wonder if the local T.G.I. Friday's was closed.

Rick pulled back a leather chair near hers, one empty seat separating the two, and grabbed the attention of the evening's bartender, whom he didn't recognize. "I'd like a Manhattan please, my good man." He dropped into the chair and took in his surroundings, as was his custom as a writer and, consequently, an observer.

Kate overheard his request but never turned her head, choosing only to reward herself with a mental high-five for ordering what seemed to be the restaurant's popular drink. Josh was due in a few minutes, as per her phone, which she pulled out to check not for a message from him, but rather from Espo or Ryan who were probably still at the precinct working on her case. She envied them. She had no messages.

She heard it, then, as she slid her phone back into her clutch- the whispers and the giggles. The trio next to her was at it again, two of them pushing the third towards her saying Go! Do it! She had no idea what she was in for, but she knew she didn't want any part of it.

But the silver sequin-clad redhead drifted right past Kate and stepped up behind the empty chair next to her, leaning against it- for balance, no doubt. "Hey," the mousy voice said.

Kate turned her head but saw only the girl's bare back.

"Hey, yourself," Rick replied, seemingly delighted by his new company and by the drink that'd just been set before him.

"My friends and I were wondering something," the tipsy one continued.

"That's funny. I was wondering something too. I wonder if we were wondering the same thing." Pleased with his own wordplay, Rick swallowed down a sip of his cocktail. The girl stared at him like a confused puppy. "Tell me," he offered in aid.

"Are you-" She turned back to her friends who were flailing their arms wildly in Go on! encouragement. "Are you that writer guy? Are you Richard Castle?"

Kate nearly spat out her whisky or her vermouth or both. She lifted her cocktail napkin to her mouth and dabbed it as she awaited the man's reply. He had a great voice too, like Josh, though she'd only heard it used to order alcohol and flirt with a bimbette thus far.

"I am he. You wondered correctly, you and your lovely sidekicks." The girl let out a small yelp of excitement, as though she'd just won a new blender on a gameshow. "So, you're a fan of men of mystery then, are you?"

Kate's pulse began to race when she heard the word fan.

"When they look like you, I am."

Kate rolled her eyes and peered at the bartender to make sure he hadn't caught the childish gesture. Her secret was safe, his attention focused on a couple at the opposite end of the bar.

"Would you like to have a drink with us, Mr. Mystery?"

No. No. No. Kate's brain screamed it over and over and over.

"That's a very tempting offer, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. My date for the evening should be arriving-" He pulled up his sleeve and checked the time on his watch. "Well, she should be arriving now, actually."

Kate suddenly realized she'd forgotten she, too, had a date on the way. Her drink was obviously prepared too strong. Yes, it definitely must've been the drink.

"Your loss," said the redhead, pivoting on her pumps and floating back over towards her friends.

Rick watched every step as she walked away- her intention, of course. He pushed forward in his chair and leaned slightly toward Kate. "T.G.I. Friday's must be closed, huh?" He chuckled before taking another sip of his drink.

Kate chuckled too, finally appreciating that he was talking to her. Well, she would've chuckled if she hadn't fought so hard to swallow it down.

Richard Castle. At the bar. Next to her. What were the odds?