Dick almost laughed at Igor's face as he and Elle walked up to the entrance of Chez Donovan's. He held it in, however, because he knew that the bouncer and everyone that worked here had been Elle's support throughout their three week separation, and that all of them had heard about the mugging. Igor, aka Dennis, gaped openly at Elle, and if Dick wasn't mistaken, was looking a little misty at their impromptu reunion.
"Miss Elle! Are you okay," Igor exclaimed. "We had heard that you had been hurt in a mugging and everyone has been frantic."
Dick lips twitched, picturing the behemoth in front of them as 'frantic'.
"Don't I look okay, Dennis?" Elle held out her arms. Her white, wide-collared, swing coat ended mid-thigh, but was long enough to hide the dress beneath; shapely legs and white, lacy, high-heeled, ankle boots were all that were visible. She looked like a dream . . .
"You look gorgeous, as usual, Miss Elle," Igor said, blushing. "I'm glad to see you're all right."
Although the bouncer frowned at Dick as they passed, it wasn't as hostile as the other night. Igor held the door for them and Dick followed her into the busy restaurant. He helped her out of her coat and tried not to swallow his tongue as he took in the sexy, little number she had worn tonight. The dress was off the shoulder with long sleeves and stopped a couple of inches above her knees. It was entirely made of white lace, and although Dick knew there was a satin sheathe beneath the lace, it was perfectly matched to Elle's skin coloring and basically invisible. He decided that this was his favorite dress of hers yet.
It took a moment before Shannon noticed them, and the drama began as soon as she saw Elle. The woman actually left the desk and the two people she was greeting to rush over and fling herself onto his girlfriend, squealing in delight. It was so outside of his realm of experience, Dick just stood quietly to the side, grinning at the two in amusement. None of his other girlfriends actually squealed and neither did their friends.
"Oh, God! Look at you! You look wonderful," Shannon gushed. "We were all terrified when we heard what had happened. You should have called, or," she shot Dick a venomous look. "Or at least had loverboy over there call."
"I know, and I'm sorry," Elle said. "It was just too bad of me. But look, I'm perfectly fine, and it is all thanks to Dick."
What was she doing? He didn't do much besides hold her hand and talk her ear off as he begged her forgiveness over the course of the past week.
Shannon glanced over at him skeptically. "Hm," she said. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your fiancé?"
Elle shot him an amused look. He had told her of his ruse to get in to see her. Elle didn't rise to the bait. "I was fortunate that Dick showed up when he did. He was able to give me blood and saved my life."
Dick blinked, surprised. Although, she was telling the truth, Elle made him sound far more heroic than he felt. Maybe it was because he'd been so guilt-ridden since none of this would have happened had he not been an idiot.
Shannon must have thought something similar. "He gave you blood? Didn't the hospital have blood?"
"They did, but it wasn't my type." Elle told her. "Amazingly enough, we both have the same unusual blood type."
He almost choked containing his snort. He was A positive; hardly unusual, but he managed to keep a humbled expression on his face.
Shannon looked at him oddly. "So, from the looks of it, you two have cleared the air, and all is forgiven?"
Elle slid her arm through Dick's and leaned her head on his shoulder. Happiness radiated off of her; warming the room. People smiled at them fondly, and Dick watched as several of the couples present began holding hands or embracing. Nearly all of them gazed upon their significant other with adoration. Was this Elle projecting again?
He glanced down at the woman on his arm. She winked at him, and he blushed. Dick Grayson-Wayne, chick magnet and chip off of the old playboy block, actually blushed!
"So, are you here for dinner or might, I hope, to get your old job back," Shannon asked before moving back around to the hostess desk.
"For dinner," Elle clarified. "We'll have to discuss the job."
She surprised him again, indicating she would consider his opinion before taking back her job as a singer. Dick had just assumed that she would. Her love of music was so great, he couldn't imagine her not doing what she so loved, but when he opened his mouth to say so, Elle gave his a frown and a little head shake. He blinked and slowly closed his mouth. She smiled at him for being so clever and observant.
It was ridiculous how proud of himself he suddenly was. He looked down at her suspiciously, but she was seeing how long the wait was before they could get a table.
There was another moment when the head waiter, Robert, saw them. He insisted upon leading them to their table himself. Dick was amused when they were led to his usual table and seated. Dick gave the waiter points when he managed the whole thing without sending a single glare in his direction. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad, after all.
He could only blame the fact that he grew up in a traveling circus before becoming a city slicker for not realizing he shouldn't count his eggs before they hatched. Certainly, had he spent any time whatsoever around a farm or live chickens, he would have heard of this apparently popular idiom and been forewarned and thus forearmed. Alas, it was not to be . . .
It began simply enough with dinner.
Elle's meal was seasoned and cooked to perfection; every crispy piece of lettuce, every juicy morsel, every bite of fluffy, chocolate mousse absolutely a chef's triumph. His . . . eh, not so much. It annoyed him that he would have to pay a king's ransom and walk out of here still hungry. He did discover in the process that Elle's emotional projections had a limit, and the door that led to the kitchen was it.
Dick didn't complain, however. In all honestly, he was afraid to. The people that worked here adored his girlfriend, which was more than fine in his book, but they were less than pleased with him. His bread was doughy; his salad wilted, his meat cooked within an inch of being charcoal, his vegetables were so salty he was a little worried about his blood pressure. He skipped desert.
Elle was sympathetic, but not so much that she was willing to share much of her dinner with him. He got a few bites of each item, and she fed him almost half of her fruit compote, which was delicious - damn it! When she announced that she wanted to stay for the show and to dance, Dick seriously considered ordering something and having it delivered. Elle laughed, and asked Robert for a basket of breadsticks.
"I want to hear who's singing tonight," she told him when he complained.
"If it isn't you, then who cares," he grumbled, but smiled when Elle kissed his cheek at his backhanded compliment.
"I'll admit that I love to sing, but I also love to listen," she said. "Besides, it is supposed to be a band tonight rather than a singer with the orchestra. I heard they had graduated to a bit of rock one day a week."
Dick's eyebrow raised. "And today's that day?"
He found he was interested in spite of himself. Like Elle, he had a broad range of music that he enjoyed listening to.
The breadsticks came, fresh and piping hot, with butter and marinara sauce and shredded parmesan cheese. Robert set them down directly in front of Elle, but he winked at Dick, letting the couple know he was in on the chef's joke. Elle glanced over to the kitchen and grinned. Chef Raymond stood in the doorway frowning. Elle made a big show of miming her appreciation of his food that had both the chef and Dick and Robert laughing. Raymond finally smiled and sketched a charming bow before disappearing into his kitchen to terrorize his help.
Robert sighed. "I apologize for your dinner," he told Dick. "But Raymond has Elle's singing piped into the kitchen and is very fond of her. When she quit, he was quite ready to go out and commit a little murder on her behalf. Word has yet to reach him of your dramatic rescue."
"Dramatic rescue? All I did was donate a pint of blood," Dick blinked. "I wish I could have been there to prevent it, but I didn't arrive until after she had gotten to the hospital."
"Stop being humble," Elle admonished gently. "You arrived in time to save my life." She looked up at Robert. "I would definitely have died without him. You go and assure Raymond of that. We will come back in a few days to have dinner again," she ignored Dick's groan, "and he can make it up to Dick at that time."
That last was said with a certain force, impressing on Robert that Elle meant business. She had allowed him his little revenge tonight, but the man had better outdo himself when she brought Dick back next week. Robert nodded, and then quickly bent and pressed a kiss to Elle's temple.
"It is good to see you again," he said. "I will spread the word. No more revenge on your . . . ahem, fiancé."
"You do that," she laughed, and squeezed his hand.
Robert was like a big brother, and he gave great advice. He had quietly admonished her not to jump to conclusions and remain calm during the three weeks she had been slowly going out of her mind. He had been the only one to not tell her to stop accepting Dick's texts.
"I'll do my best, but there are some hotheads out there, you know," Robert smiled and left the table as Dick ate his third breadstick.
Elle turned back to Dick and promptly burst out laughing.
"What?" He mumbled around a mouthful of bread and marinara. "I'm hungry!"
"I can see that, but you probably shouldn't eat a breadstick with such gusto and appreciation," she warned, snickering. "Unless you want admirers."
He blinked and turned his head slowly in the direction she had been looking. Two men at a nearby table were watching him. They were obviously a couple, and when they realized Dick was staring at them, they both winked and waved. Elle burst into what Dick would later describe as inappropriate laughter to which he would then accuse her of failing to rise in his honor. She snorted.
She attempted to ease the sting of his embarrassment. "It's all right. You can't help it that you are just so gorgeous that men as well as women think you are yummy."
"Did you have to say 'yummy'?" Dick groused, his stomach was still growling.
"Well, you have to admit, those two looked ready to . . ."
"Don't say it!" Dick interrupted her.
Thankfully, the band came out at that moment, as the orchestra moved off the stage. As the restaurant was smoothly transformed into a dance club, Morris came around to join their table. Elle stood up to greet her favorite bassist.
"I was beginning to think I would never see you again," Morris accused her. He pressed a kiss to her cheek as he pulled up a chair to join them.
"You have Dick to thank for that," she told him with a smile.
Dick paused in chewing as both parties gazed at him. He smiled and shrugged as humbly as he was able as he swallowed a lump of bread too soon. He choked a little and Elle handed him a glass of wine. Morris leaned in to slap him enthusiastically on the back just as he took a sip. Dick spewed wine across the tablecloth, but at least the bread went down. He threw a look of disgust at the bassist. Friend of Elle's or not, the guy was asking for it. He flexed his back muscles, certain he would have a bruise there by morning.
"Morris," Elle frowned at him, but the band leader didn't even remotely look apologetic. "Dick saved my life!"
"But at what cost, Elle? Your freedom?"
Morris glared at Dick as the latter shoved the basket of bread away regretfully. It was just too dangerous to try to eat with the other man sitting so near.
Elle smirked. "Oh, heard about that, did you?"
"They probably heard it on the upper east end," Morris remarked. "Brian was pacing and prowling and snarling at everyone the next day."
"He takes this a little too personally," Elle commented. When Dick snorted, she sent him a glare, but softened it with a smile.
Morris leaned back in his chair. "So," he said, glancing back and forth between them. "Is it true?"
The couple looked at each other and then back at Morris, both a picture of innocence. Morris sat up and leaned forward, frowning. "Oh, come on! You sent the man practically insane for the past week and you aren't even engaged?"
Dick shrugged. "It was the only way they would let me in to see her."
Morris looked at Elle. "And you're okay with this? Everyone thinks you two are an item now; that Elle's off the menu."
"Hey!" Elle punched the man in the arm. "I am not, nor ever was, an item on a menu."
Dick leaned in and whispered in her ear as he nuzzled her neck shamelessly. "If you were on the menu, I would no longer be hungry."
Just like that Elle burst out laughing. Dick could always make her laugh, and cry, and be angry, and fall so in love that she felt like she was drowning in it; and she could be happy about it all. Morris smiled; watching her. So did every person in hearing distance.
Morris reached across Elle, extending his hand. "Anyone who can make her that happy, I guess, deserves another chance. Peace."
Dick eyed the hand warily for a second before clasping the hand and shaking it. Morris was a friend of Elle's; he wanted her to have friends, people she could turn to if he weren't available.
"Peace," he said. "Uh, does this mean it's safe to eat my breadsticks now?" His stomach grumbled loud enough to be heard over the band.
Morris laughed. "Please. You're drowning out the band. Not good for business!"
"Where is Brian this evening? We haven't seen him at all," Elle asked.
"That's probably a good thing. He's still pretty pissed," Morris told her. "He left for home just minutes after you got here. Likely as not, he didn't see you. If he had, Fiancé over there would have been bounced out on his ear."
Elle pursed her lips. It was probably for the best that they missed him then. She would need to call him or maybe come down to the restaurant before it opened to talk with him alone. She liked everyone here and wanted to be able to come back with Dick whenever she wanted. If she did decide to take up singing again, her eyes flitted towards the man who held her heart, she wanted him in the audience. She wanted them to get along.
She waited until Dick ate another three breadsticks before grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the dance floor.
"Come on," she grinned at him. "You promised me a dance!"
Dick obliged her, but he kept an eye out on his remaining two breadsticks. He had a feeling he was going to need the carbs tonight.
Last Chance has reached over 10,000 views as of 5-7-15 . . . Dancing around the table! Thank you, everyone who has followed this story from its inception; especially all those who have been kind enough to leave me such wonderful reviews! And most especially those guest reviewers! This story is ongoing . . . Eventually I will draw this particular part to a close and pick it back up in a sequel. As far as I'm concerned, this will never have an ending. ;D