Page 160 of Five Summers

I hate being called that name because it reminds me of my asshole father. But I choose to ignore it because the driver is unaware of that, as he’s never worked for us before. He switchesoff the engine, then promptly gets out to open the doors for us to exit.

Neil's standing on the sidewalk, checking out the deserted street. There's only a handful of people walking around. Since it's a Wednesday night, the streets are noticeably quieter compared to the buzz of a Friday or Saturday night.

Getting out of the car, I grab Poppy's hand as Neil heads towards the burger joint. Neil taps on the door and waits, scoping out the place. Eventually, the door opens and Neil enters, taking a quick look around to make sure there's no media waiting. When everything looks fine, he gives me a nod and steps out of the building. Hand in hand, Poppy and I go into the restaurant.

“Welcome Mr Williams. Miss,” a man in his early thirties greets us. “My name is Walter. I’m the owner of this place.” He's got a buzz cut and loads of tattoos on his arms. His eyebrow and lip piercings make him stand out from the typical burger joint owner.

“Thank you, Walter, but please call me Xander,” I interject, not wanting to be referred to by my last name for the rest of the evening.

“Hello,” Poppy says, smiling, as she extends her hand to Walter.

Returning the smile, he shakes her hand. “Now is there a specific place you’d like to sit?” he asks, gesturing towards the empty restaurant.

As I glance around the area, I can’t help but admire Kit’s choice in restaurants once again. The walls are adorned with posters and music memorabilia, creating a nostalgic atmosphere. It somehow reminds me of the first time I entered Poppy’s bedroom. “We’ll take that booth over there,” I gesture towards a secluded area, far from the bustling kitchen, offering us a hint of privacy. Not to mention, the booth’s curved seatallows me to easily slide closer to Poppy, creating an intimate setting.

“Alright, follow me,” Walter says as he grabs two menus.

Poppy walks ahead, and I take this opportunity to admire her figure. I’ve always had an appreciation for a nice ass, and Poppy’s is undoubtedly the best I’ve ever seen. It’s absolutely perfect. My excitement stirs at the sight of it, but I remind myself to stay focused. I can’t let my desires interfere with what I need to tell her. Tonight, I need to keep my wits about me. I can indulge in her later.

Poppy slides onto the leather seat, accepting the menu handed to her.

Deciding that I don’t want to sit across from her, I slide in beside her. This way, I can be close to her and touch her whenever I please. Walter hands me a menu, but I don’t bother glancing at it.

“What would you recommend?” I inquire.

“The burger with everything is a favorite among our customers,” he suggests.

“All right, I’ll go with that, along with a side of fries and a glass of coke.” I return the menu and glance at Poppy.

She meets Walter’s gaze and says, “I’ll have the same.”

I fucking love how she eats like any ordinary person, unlike those girls we’ve worked with over the years who only nibble on celery sticks.

Before Walter turns around, I quickly add, “And could I get two more of those? One for the big guy by the door and the other for the driver of the black SUV parked out front.”

"Sure thing," Walter replies.

Left to ourselves, I steal a glance at Poppy and find her examining the environment. Her eyes take in the many framed music posters that adorn the walls—Nirvana, Alice in Chains, Sound Garden, Silverchair, and many others.

“This place is nice,” she comments, looking back at me.

“Yeah, it is.”

“It kinda reminds me of that time you took me for a burger when I was hungover. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah,” I recall. I refrain from mentioning that every time I’ve ordered a burger with the band, that memory resurfaces.

Walter returns, carrying our drinks.

“Thank you,” Poppy says. “Are you a music fan?”

Walter grins, “Yeah, I’m in a band. The frontman, actually.” He glances in my direction. “Not as good as you, man. I’m so honored to meet you and have you here in my restaurant.”

“So you manage a restaurant and still play in a band,” Poppy inquires.

“Yeah, we snag a few gigs here and there, but it’s more like a hobby now. We didn’t achieve our dream of hitting it big, but I suppose that’s how it goes.”

Curious, Poppy probes further, “What kind of music does your band play?”

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