“What the hell are you talking about?” I spluttered, even though I was pretty sure I knew where she was going with it. “Can’t a man leave early without being accused of laziness?”
“First off, I didn’t say you were lazy,” she laughed, blowing a lock of red hair out of her face as she spoke. Taking a step toward me, her heels clicking across the polished marble floor, she allowed her smile to turn into a grin. “But you haven’t left this early in ages…and I know your daughters are at Mike’s. Which must mean you’re on your way to meet someone.”
“That’s your diagnosis, huh?”
“Damn right it is,” she replied, fully knowing she had me dead to rights. “Not that it’s any of my business, Neil, but I’m actually glad there’s more in your life than just work. Besides, I might use the fact you’re not around to throw a massive after-hours party.”
“Really funny,” I laughed. “Don’t you have a husband waiting at home?”
“I do,” she said, “and that’s why you can rest assured we won’t burn the building down while you’re out.”
“Well, do your best. I leave Riverside Urology in your very capable hands. I hope to see the building’s still standing by the time I get back here in the morning.”
“In the morning?” She laughed once more, a glint in her eyes. “If your night goes well, you’ll only show up in the afternoon.”
“I’ll be here in the morning,” I replied with a laugh of my own, already grabbing my car keys. With one parting nod, I twirled the keychain in my fingers and made my way out of the building. Two minutes later and I was already cruising down the highway, Tracy’s remarks echoing inside my head.
Did I expect my date with Alex to turn into a late one?
No, I was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen. A date was a good start, but I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. I would be patient and simply focus on turning dinner into a success. Everything else would be a bonus.
“You’re getting old, ya Scottish bastard,” I told my reflection in the mirror minutes before leaving the house. Even though I was wearing one of my best tailored suits and I looked like I meant business, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I could be punching above my weight. If my reputation and money weren’t something that Alex cared about, would my looks and charm suffice? I hoped so.
I arrived at Pedro’s one or two minutes before seven. I peeked through the windows, satisfied to see a full dining room, and pushed both hands inside my pockets as I waited for Alex. He arrived at seven sharp, a cocky smile lighting up his face the moment he saw me. It seemed as if I wasn’t the only one excited about dinner.
“Looking good,” he said, his eyes taking their time as he appreciated my figure. Unabashedly, I did exactly the same. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a white shirt, a dark blue blazer as his outer layer. There was a simplicity to his outfit but, somehow, it made him look even more attractive.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I complimented him, suspecting he’d look even better without any of his clothes on. I could see the outline of his toned muscles under the fabric of his shirt, and my fingers twitched as I imagined how it’d feel to explore his body with my fingertips.
“Shall we?” he asked me, gesturing toward the door. I nodded and, walking side by side, we stepped inside the restaurant. The hostess came to meet us with an expectant smile, and I gave her my name. She looked for it on her list and then, after nodding approvingly, gestured toward the dining room. She was about to start leading the way when her gaze fell on Alex.
“Sir, I’m sorry but…” She hesitated for a moment, wetting her parched lips with the tip of her tongue, and only then did she continue. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but we moved into a strict dress code. Formal attire only.”
“What?” I asked, not sure on how to react. The last time I had been at Pedro’s, no one had told me anything...but then again, when was the last time I had eaten there? Years ago? “This is nonsense.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the hostess said nervously, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “It’s a recent policy, I know. We might make an exception for you and your companion tonight, though. We don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“That’s fine,” I told her, and she breathed out with relief. She led us toward one of the tables in the corner and, mere seconds after we had taken our seats, two different waiters appeared, one of them carrying the menu while the other had the wine listing.
“I’m sorry,” Alex started, looking at me as he opened his menu. “I had no idea I was supposed to, you know, wear formal attire.” He said it in a joking manner, his last words mimicking the nervous tone of the hostess, but I could tell the experience had left him slightly uncomfortable.
“Don’t worry about any of that,” I smiled. Grabbing the wine list, I decided to direct the conversation to some more interesting topic. “Red? White?”
“You’re the cultured one.” Propping both elbows on the table, he threw me an amused glance. He was feeling more at ease now, and I couldn’t help but take that as a good omen. Eventually, we settled on a good bottle of red and opted for the chef’s specialty dish.
The conversation between the two of us felt easy but, at the same time, there was a kind of uncomfortable tension underneath it all. Somehow, there was just something in the setting that made the moment feel artificial.
“Is everything all right?” Alex asked me, perhaps noticing I wasn’t that comfortable. It was hard to pinpoint a reason for it: Pedro’s was one of the best restaurants in town, and they seemed to have become even more exclusive with their dress code. The food and the wine had always been great too, so why didn’t any of it feel right?
“You know what,” I started, finishing my glass of wine and getting up to my feet. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”
“Are you serious?” he asked me, his eyes widening with confusion. He looked around, almost as if searching for an explanation for my behavior, but then turned his focus back to me.
“I don’t want to be Dr. Macdonough with you,” I told him, already pulling my tie off. Placing it inside one pocket, I then locked my eyes on Alex’s. “I just want to be Neil around you. So what do you say we go someplace fun?”
“Now that sounds like an idea,” he laughed, and the two of us started making our way toward the exit. The hostess seemed perplexed by our sudden exit, but I couldn’t care less.
“Where to?”
I didn’t reply. I just grinned and took his hand in mine, dragging him after me through the back streets. If I were lucky, the small Scottish pub I used to frequent in the neighborhood would still be open.
“An Irish Pub?” Alex laughed when we finally stood before the doors of Finley’s, a place most would label as nothing but a watering hole. Of course, despite its modest appearance on the outside, Finley’s had an atmosphere I had only managed to find back in Scotland.
“Not Irish, for God’s sake,” I corrected him, allowing my Scottish accent to take over my words on purpose. “This is a proper Scottish bar, and you’ll see why in a moment.”