Page 82 of Love Resurrected
“Oh, thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever been told that before.”
“Well, I don’t know that song, but you sounded a lot like the singer.”
“That’s Kenny Wayne Shepherd.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t know who that is?”
“If I did, I’d probably know the song.”
Good point.
“He does an amazing cover of ‘Midnight Rider.’” I rest my cast at the small of Tenley’s back as we walk through the parking lot to the restaurant. It’s either that or have her walk on the outside so I can use my good hand, which goes against everything I believe in regarding chivalry.
“The Allman Brothers song?”
“You know the Allman Brothers and don’t know Kenny?”
She shrugs in response and smiles softly.
Inside, we’re seated at a small table for two near the stage. The bulk of the lighting in the room is by candlelight, giving it an eerie quality that lends itself to the mystery vibe of the entire evening. I’m surprised to see the staff are all dressed in character and acting accordingly.
On the table, along with the pre-fixed menu options, is the story set-up for the mystery we’ll be solving. We both take a moment to read it. It’s not super complex—murder in a jazz club, set in the 1920s during prohibition. So, any alcohol that we have with our dinner must be ordered using code words and delivered in secret to the table.
“So, we’re helping to solve the crime?” Tenley asks.
“I guess so.”
“I thought we’d just be watching it all on stage. But look at this, we have clue cards and character descriptions, the entire backstory. This is awesome.”
I order a beer and Tenley a glass of wine, and we take bets who the killer might be before knowing anything more about the crime. The show starts as we’re served the salad course. They prove my initial guess wrong within minutes, but Tenley could still be right about who the murderer is.
“Good thing you’re a firefighter and not a police officer,” Tenley teases.
“Is that how it’s gonna go?” I smile. “You throwin’ down, woman?”
“Oh, I threw down a while ago, you’re just slow on the uptake.”
I enjoy how quickly she picks up on a joke, and conversation between us continues to be easy through the main course. And I find, by halfway through the evening, I’m having a great time. I’m laughing and I’m enjoying myself. Tenley’s thoughts easily fall on the side of devious, making her a delightful mystery solving partner. I’m glad when her initial guess is soon proven wrong. I figure, this way she has nothing to hold over my head for the rest of the evening. Or longer.
We don’t end up solving the murder, as there’s a twist in the story no one expected, and only the actors come up with the right answer. Maybe they plan it that way for entertainment purposes. By the time we’ve finished our coffee and dessert, I’m sad to see the night ending.
“I had a good time tonight,” I tell her as we’re walking back to the truck.
“I did to,” she says, wrapping my arm in hers and squeezing gently before letting it go.
I take her hand in mine, to see how it feels.
I like it.
I continue holding it until she’s getting into the cab of the truck, then shut the door after her and circle around the front of the truck.
“How long do you have to have the cast on?”
“Four to six weeks. It was a relatively clean fracture. I could have shattered my knuckle and that would have been a disaster.”
“Is the fire chief understanding about taking time off work for things like this?”
