Sliding across the red vinyl bench seat, cracked and with bouncy springs I know are probably from the original installation, I do my best to wait patiently. I am desperate to talk to Claire and ask her to dinner so we can start our life together, yet the interaction with the other patrons is taking forever. But of course, it would. The customers are three college-aged young men, and they are shamelessly flirting with her. Thankfully, even though she smiles, the charisma behind it is not there. Claire either does not notice the boys attempts to engage her or does not care. I like that about her, either way. Finally, she starts to turn to come to check on me when the young man closest to the aisle reaches out and swats her on the ass. Claire straightens in surprise, and the three boys laugh in unison.
I am up out of my seat in a flash. The fury in my chest is so acute, I can barely take a breath. In two steps, I am past Claire and grabbing the collar of the offensive fuck who hit her. Jerking him toward me, I bring his pimply face within half of an inch of mine. I sense everyone around us freezing to watch, including Claire, and this pleases me. I want her to know I will always protect her. “Apologize to her,” I hiss through my clenched teeth trying to keep down the urge to actually bite the little prick I’m so angry. The young man hesitates, no doubt still absorbing the shock of my aggression. He is fifty pounds heavier than me and could probably beat me in a fight, although not necessarily. I am a good fighter, and I would die before backing down. It’s not necessary. As has always proven to be true, people obey me instinctively. Even without knowing who I am, and how I could destroy him, I feel fear starting to radiate off of the boy— as if he recognizes a predator when he sees one.
“I'm sorry,” he mumbles into my face, and I shake my head while taking him by the chin to turn him toward the still stunned Claire.
“Not to me. To her.”
The young man nods, understanding what I want. “I’m sorry,” he says with a little more enthusiasm. “Really. That was dumb.”
I let go of him and stand up straight. “Maybe you three should go,” I suggest, and although one of the young men opens his mouth to complain, the other two override him. My glare tells them everything they need to know about why leaving is a good idea. They throw some cash on the table and then slink off. The few patrons go back to eating, and I am left face-to-face with Claire. She blinks and then recognition blooms in her eyes.
“Oh my God,” she says putting a hand over her mouth. “It’s you.”
I smile. This is better. More like I imagined. “It’s me,” I say and the same draw I felt toward her before is there, only stronger. A fleeting image of her naked in a towel threatens to distract me, but I take a deep breath and focus. Naked time will come soon enough.
Claire shakes her head. “How…?”
I wave a hand to dismiss the question. “Doesn’t matter,” I say. “Can we sit down?”
Claire glances over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, concern on her lovely face. After a moment of deliberation, which I read in her blue eyes, she bites her lip and joins me in the booth. I put my hands flat on the table to keep them from reaching out to touch her where she sits across from me. “Only for a minute,” she explains with another look away. When her eyes return to mine, they are filled with gratitude, and I think I might die looking in them. “Thank you so much for that. With the boy.” Before I respond, Claire does the one thing I only fantasized she might. She reaches out and rests her hand over mine. I force myself not to shiver from the heat of her touch. Our eyes stay locked, and the electricity leaps between us. With a gasp, she pulls her hand back and looks dazed for a blink of the eye, then the savvy waitress face returns. “Let me buy your lunch. For this and for hitting you with my car.”
Disappointed, I watch her stand up. I can’t let her escape. “How about you let me take you to dinner instead?”
Claire pauses. She tilts her head as if really seeing me for the first time, and I watch in anticipation as she licks her lips. I know she will say yes, already deciding where I will take her, and our fairytale life together will begin. The thrill makes a flutter of excitement in my stomach.
“No,” Claire answers, and she turns to go back to the kitchen. “I can’t.” Then she is gone before I even process her words.
6
As I sit in my car in the lot behind the diner, I realize my behavior borders on desperate. The last thing I want is for Claire to think I am some freaky stalker, yet I don’t want to leave without speaking to her again. Obviously, I have her contact information from my investigator's work, but still, using it seems invasive. Coming to the diner to see her was my way of being polite, only everything backfired when she turned me down. The rejection makes no sense to me. In her eyes, there was a flicker of attraction. I am sure of it. Electricity sparked between us while we sat for the few minutes in the booth. As much as I feel drawn to her, I sincerely believe she feels it too. What I do not understand is her answer. “No,” she said. “I can’t.” Then she fled back through the swinging double-doors into the kitchen, so I could not easily follow her. Of course, I could have because no place is off-limits to me. That thought gives me an idea.
Dialing my assistant, I tap a nervous staccato on the steering wheel waiting as it rings three times. When she answers, I cut her off before she finishes her greeting. I’m too distracted to be civil. “Buy the diner on south 23rd street,” I say and recite the name a moment before hanging up. Confirmation is not necessary. I will own the place where Claire works by the end of the day. For some reason, I find this reassuring, knowing I have a part of her, at least in this respect. True, she could quit tomorrow, and I'd be stuck with a shitty restaurant, but I don't care. The purchase will have no impact on my immense wealth and power. It’s all about Claire. I just need to speak to her again and make her understand.
After another long half-hour of waiting, the door at the back of the building opens, and she appears. Catching my breath at the sight, I remain in my car while she throws a couple goodbyes over her shoulder to her coworkers and then is alone. Licking my lips, I realize I am once again nervous. It is startling how she has this effect on me. For the first time in decades, I worry about being rejected. What happened in the diner never happens to me. People don’t tell me no. I have a strange respect for her because of it, but then, she doesn’t know who I really am. No doubt my reputation would change things. All the more reason to keep hiding it from her.
Finally, I step out and come slowly around the front of my car. She is at hers, unlocking the door. I recognize it as the one which bumped me at the minimart gas station and smile. All part of the fate which lead us to here and now. “Hi,” I say and Claire whirls around. We are only a few feet apart, and I see her lips part in surprise, then recognition.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, but not with hostility, only surprise.
“I wanted to talk to you,” I say, my heart racing. “So, I waited.”
Claire shakes her head. “For almost two hours?”
I shrug. Although the waiting was hard for me, the end result of talking to her is what I want. Finally, we are alone, shielded from sight by the other cars, and no one will interrupt us. “You’re worth it.”