Why did women talk in riddles? A straight answer was all Daniel wanted, not a bunch of suspicious questions asking him what was wrong and why he was questing her like a criminal.
The article clearly stated that women wanted to talk about their lives and their feelings. What was he doing wrong?
He would check in with Evan—who seemed like the ‘woman whisperer’—but Brandelynn had closed their privacy screen and blocked all sight and sound. The ride to the restaurant was short. If not, Daniel knew what the closed privacy screen usually meant.
And even though a quick romp in the car always felt good in the past, he just wasn’t in the mood.
The car turned into the crowded parking lot of Mas Rafs. People who had not planned ahead for reservations crowded the five–star restaurant.
Evan parked the car in front of the place, and walked to the rear door. He stood with his back to the car, giving them a moment of privacy.
Brandelynn touched up her hair and makeup. She was like an old gunslinger—fastest draw in the west, only with a compact. Daniel hadn't even noticed her remove the makeup from her purse.
He waited a few minutes while she made herself perfect. Now taking a good look at her, she almost seemed too perfect—nearly plastic. Blonde hair, thin waist, big boobs… She was Barbie personified.
She placed the compact back in her purse, and her cell phone fell. Picking it up, he noticed a text from, “Black Cat.” He wasn’t sure what “Black Cat” was, but they had a margarita special going on tonight. Brandelynn had never mentioned the place before, but maybe it was her hangout when she went out with her friends.
Friends he didn’t know, and had never met.
“Thank you.” She grabbed the phone from him and placed it into her purse.
Daniel tapped on the car window and Evan opened the door so the two could step out. Brandelynn hooked her arm around Daniel’s outstretched one once they stood on the curb.
“Enjoy your meal, sir. Madam.” Evan closed the car door. “I'll be right here when you need me, sir.”
The young man hadn’t said two words since getting into the car with Brandelynn. Daniel had asked for the truth, and the truth is what he got.
Evan took out his card and handed it to Daniel. “I’ll park down the street. Just call when you’re ready, sir.”
Gone was Evan’s happy expression and joy in doing his job. His expressionless face held his shame. Shame for only telling the truth.
Daniel felt like he should have said something to the boy, but instead, he took the card and let him drive away without a word.
Brandelynn fussed with her hair and waited, a scowl crossing her face. She was either a child who needed full attention, or a high maintenance woman who would rather be anywhere else. Either way, he hated that expression—and had seen it too many time in the past.
“We can go somewhere else if you want.” Since Mas Rafs was his favorite restaurant, he hoped she would not suggest another place.
Her eyes widened. “This place is excellent. I assumed we'd be here tonight, seeing how we always come here.”
He didn't appreciate the tone of her voice, but dismissed it.
Brandelynn's hand caressed her hair, her fingers picking up loose strands and she smiled toward someone taking her picture. Daniel suspected she liked the attention. Most of his past girlfriends enjoyed the fame, as if it was one of the perks of dating him.
He, however, could do without the paparazzi.
They passed the crowd, and he held the restaurant door for Brandelynn. All Daniel could think about was Evan back in the car, eating his sack dinner lovingly handmade by his wife. Daniel would quickly toss Mas Rafs aside if he had someone to make him a sandwich and wish him a good day at work. Did Evan even realize how lucky he was to have a banana split woman in his life?
“Mr. Ellington. Miss Brandelynn. So nice to see you again,” Adam Levinson, the owner of the restaurant and a close friend of Daniel’s, said once they made their way through the door.
“You have the best accommodation tonight, in our wine cellar room.” Adam shook Daniel’s hand with a firm grip. “There are three semi–private tables in the room, each partitioned off and staffed with their own wait staff.”
Noting the way Brandelynn hugged his arm, having two other couples in the room would ensure they actually ate dinner tonight instead of cutting it short and rushing back to his place to have sex.
It would give them a chance to talk.
God, what was he thinking? One magazine and he was all touchy, feeling.
He felt pathetic.
Sitting at their reserved table, he stared into Brandelynn's eyes. She was beautiful, sexy, great in bed… but also conceited and shallow. Perhaps he had set the bar too high. After all, he was already six months into this relationship. Most women didn't survive this long.
“Smile, sweetheart.” She turned her head and extended her hand to take a selfy of the two of them. She then began texting, “Hashtag romance, hashtag Valentine’s Day, hashtag monthiversary…”
He let her words fade into the distance. In this one–hundred–and–forty–character–or–less attention span of a world, when did six months become a long time? His parents had been blissfully married for over fifty years until his mother's recent death.
Brandelynn looked devilishly at him and winked. “Hashtag handsome, hashtag….” Her voice sounded sugary-sweet with each word of flattery—but she still kept texting and snap-chatting.
Would she bother to type hashtag rich or hashtag meal ticket? Probably not. It was implied by just saying hashtag Ellington. Too bad hashtag soul mate wouldn’t make the list either.
Maybe he was too successful to find a soul mate. His parents met when his father was struggling financially and all he could offer was his love and devotion. His parents were probably not much better financially off than Evan and his wife.
Maybe that was when Daniel should have found someone. But at the time, he’d been more interested in sleeping around than finding someone who wanted him, not just his wallet.
Damn. He had lost the opportunity, and he only had himself to blame.
The waiter approached the table with menus in hand. “Good evening sir, madam.” He handed them the menus. “Happy Valentine’s Day to the both of you. We are offering some lovely specials tonight, starting with …”
Daniel allowed the man’s words to fade into the background. He would order the sirloin steak, his favorite, once again. Steak, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and a salad on the side. Solid food. Once the waiter left, he said, “Everything sounds so good this evening.”
She stared at the menu and didn’t glance up.
He felt like he was on an awkward first date. A first date that wasn’t going well. “You never told me what your favorite food is. Do you have a favorite meal?”
She glanced up. “What?”
“Do you have a favorite food?”
She shook her head and continued to read the menu. “It all looks good, sweetheart.”
How could he negotiate massive business agreements, own an internationally successful business, hold two degrees—one in English—and yet not be able to start a conversation with a woman he was sleeping with?
Daniel didn’t start dating Brandelynn for her conversation abilities, but he’d thought surely she would at least answer a direct question.
“I thought the Alaskan salmon special sounded fantastic,” he said, trying again. “I've never been to Alaska. One of my bucket list items is to see the Northern Lights.”
Brandelynn gave a slight “Uh–huh” as she continued to read.
“Have you ever seen them?”
“Seen what? The lights?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head. “I grew up down south,” she said, nearly dismissively.
Her diction held no southern accent. “What part of the south?”
The look she gave him was one of irritation, like she didn't want to talk at all.
“I think I'll have the lobster special.” She smiled and Daniel realized even her teeth were capped.
The one thing Daniel knew always worked with women was gifts. He unbuttoned his coat and tapped the inside breast pocket of his jacket, feeling the diamond tennis bracelet Ms. Baxter had bought for tonight. So why did he feel like he was being served up with a big red bow?