Page 9 of Poisoned Pawn

My thoughts part like a cloud of smoke as Toni waves a hand in front of my face and calls my name.

“Yo, Earth to Star. Where’d you go?”

“Huh, er…sorry.” I laugh it off. “I was just thinking about something I forgot to do at work that’s all. Let’s go shop.”

I can tell by her lingering look that she’s not convinced, yet she lets me lead her up the stairs to dress.

Within thirty minutes we are shopping in town, but it takes a good couple of hours before I find something I’m happy to purchase. Toni claims I’m the worst shopper in history. I just know what I like. Unfortunately for me, the designers don’t.

After a quick lunch, we say goodbye with me promising to message her after my date later.

* * *

I’m staring at my date across the table as he regales me with another example of his mathematic skills. He’s an accountant. A tiny detail he forgot to mention on his dating profile. One that would have had me instantly swiping left.

His short dark hair is styled in a neat side parting. When I say styled, what I actually mean is it’s perfect. Not a damn hair out of place. And as he talks, I can picture him in front of his mirror this evening with a fine-tooth comb going over every inch of his head and making sure every hair lies exact to the minutest degree.

“Excuse me. I need to use the toilet,” I say interrupting him as I get to my feet.

“Of course.” He gives me a puzzled look, creating a V between his brows that is slightly off centre. My mind immediately wonders how much that irritates him that it’s not perfect. This man adjusted the cutlery when we were seated because the knife wasn’t parallel to the fork.

I pick up the small clutch from the table and head for the stairs that lead to the toilets. I look back to our table as I reach them. Seeing that he’s not looking this way, I quickly duck out of sight behind a large pillar and open my clutch to find my phone and call Toni so she can rescue me.

“Planning your escape,” a female voice says, startling me.

I look up to find our waitress with a knowing smile on her face. “That obvious, huh?”

“No, not as obvious as some of his dates. And you’ve lasted longer than most too.” At my blatant surprise, she laughs and then adds, “He brings every date here. And there have been many.”

“Wow, that’s kind of tragic.”

“Yeah, it is. He’s a nice enough guy, but he’s so—”

“Boring.” We both laugh, then I ask, “Please tell me there’s a back way out of here?”

She keeps me waiting for several seconds before finally her serious expression gives way to a beaming smile.

“There is. Come on, I’ll show you.”

The sigh of relief is hard to hide as I follow her toward the kitchen. Pushing through the double doors, we are greeted with a symphony of sounds. The one sound above all others is the gruff voice belonging to a tall lean man who is waving his arms around and shouting eloquently in Italian interspersed with heavily accented, yet still clearly understandable, English swear words.

I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my amusement. As funny as it is, I do not want to draw the attention of this man. He makes Gordon Ramsey look like a pussy cat.

Fortune is not on my side though.

“Ah, another of Isaac’s dates, si?” he says with an exaggerated bow, spreading his arm wide as we pass. “Much prettier than the last.”

“Oh my fucking god,” I whisper utterly mortified.

“Bravo, Carlo,” the waitress replies with a laugh. “This way,” she says holding open a door.

I step through into a short corridor with a closed door on the left and at the end is a fire exit. I practically run to it, desperate to get out of here and never return.

Of all my dating disasters this is top of the fucking pile.

I push the metal bar down, the door popping open with a clunk, as the waitress reaches me.

“Thank you…”

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