Page 22 of Stay Away from Him

“So people have been talking,” Thomas said. “Telling you things about me.”

Melissa gave his hand a squeeze, willing him to turn it over and lace his fingers in hers.

“All good,” she assured him. “The only people I’ve talked to are people who care about you. Who are on your side. But yes. I’ve heard some things.”

“Then I guess we’ll have plenty to talk about.”

The car slowed, and Melissa looked up just as Thomas pulled off the road into a parking lot. The building was a gray box with tall windows looking into a sleek, gleaming dining room inside. A pergola of stained wooden beams wound with climbing vines overhung a stone patio with tables and umbrellas, sandy lanes tracked with the paths of scattered bocce balls, an unlit brick firepit sunk into the ground. A few small parties of people sat sipping at glasses of wine under the late afternoon sunshine, flights of reds and whites laid out on paper cards, with charcuterie boards of cheese and prosciutto sweating in the heat. A sign above the door read, simply,Veritas, and Melissa felt a shiver, recalling the aphorism:in vino veritas. In wine, there is truth.

It felt like a sign of another kind: a manifestation, an omen, a portent. A message from the universe, clear as a fortune cookie or horoscope. Truth. She needed to know the truth.

***

Inside, most of the tables were empty, and a host with a close-shorn beard greeted them a little too eagerly.

“Welcome!” he said, flashing his teeth. “Are you here for our singles event?”

Thomas groaned. “You’re kidding.”

The host blinked, his smile dimming only slightly. “Every third Monday is singles night.”

Melissa laughed, glancing around the dining room and understanding something about the sparse crowd. It was pretty good for a Monday, actually—there were a little more than a dozen people there, and they were all sitting alone at tables or at the bar, carefully eyeing each other.

“You wanted to keep your options open, Thomas?” she asked. “Play the field a bit if we didn’t hit it off?”

“I swear, I had no idea,” Thomas said. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

“Hell no. This is hilarious. A first date on singles night? How can we possibly pass that up? Maybe I’d like to keep my options open too.”

Thomas smiled grimly. “Oh, I’m sure you would. Very wise.”

The host’s face brightened again. Maybe he was the owner, desperate for more customers on a quiet evening.

“You’ll take a name tag, then?”

“Hellyeswe’ll take name tags,” Melissa said, grabbing for the sticker and marker the host slid toward her on the stand. “I’ll do his too.”

She scribbled out a couple names, then put her name tag on first. Thomas squinted as she pressed it onto her shirt.

“Xena?” he said. “Seriously?”

“That’s right. The warrior princess. Ever heard of her?”

She stepped toward him and placed his name tag over his lapel pocket, letting her hands linger on the hard bulge of his chest as she spread it flat. When she withdrew her hand, he glanced down at the name she gave him, took a moment to read it upside down.

“Biff,” he said. “Very nice.”

The host grabbed some menus, tapped them twice on the stand. “You ready?”

“Biff?” Melissa asked.

He grinned, then bowed and extended his arm. “After you, Xena.”

They got seated at a high-top and ordered a couple glasses of wine. Thomas went through the whole ritual when he got his glass of Malbec, swirling the liquid in the glass, holding it sideways to examine it, then sticking his nose in the glass to give it a sniff. Finally, he took a slow, thoughtful sip. As he went through all this, Melissa glanced around the room and took note of the women casting glances toward their table.

“We’re being watched,” she said.

“The men are looking at you. Waiting for their opening to come chat you up.”

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