Morgan
invites Tanya to dinner. He makes a bet that she can't be ready on
time, and synchronizes his watch with her clock.
"The
time is officially six forty-seven P.M. You have thirty minutes from
now." He pressed a button on his watch and walked out the door,
closing it sharply behind him.
"How
extraordinary," Tanya murmured as she locked the door and walked
to the bathroom, shedding her clothing as she went.
The
hot water felt good on her aching neck and shoulders, but she felt
revived by the prospect of food. She dried her short, brown hair and
smeared on a little makeup on. Her clothing choices were somewhat
limited, since a lot of her things were still in boxes. Another thing
her grandmother left her, was the house. Tanya moved in and
immediately started working at the hospital.
She
grabbed a pair of dress jeans and a soft, dark pink, turtle neck
sweater. Her boots would hurt her work swollen feet, but she had some
suede clogs that would do nicely. With a couple minutes to spare, she
was picking up her discarded clothing when she heard a car pull up in
the driveway. Right on time, Morgan stepped out of his car. He'd
showered too, and his dark hair was still slightly damp. He was
wearing a pair of jeans and dark hooded sweatshirt with a picture
from a Led Zeppelin album on it. Glancing at his watch, he jogged up
to the door. Tanya had to admit, she liked watching him move. He had
a grace to him that not many men could emulate. Like a big jungle
cat. She got so interested, she hardly remembered to open the door
before he knocked.
Laughing,
he stood on the porch with his hand raised to tap on the door. "Okay,
you win. You might want to put that stuff in the laundry hamper
before we leave," he said, gesturing at the clothing in her
arms.
Blushing
furiously, Tanya carried the items to the bathroom and threw them in
the hamper. She was mortified, her sensible bra and granny panties
were on top of the stack. Rolling her eyes in self-disgust, she
grabbed her keys and purse, following Morgan to the door. She locked
the doorknob, made sure her keys were in her hand and turned the
outside lights on. She checked for her keys a second time, then
closed the door.
"You
probably think I'm being a little bit OCD," she sighed.
Morgan
glanced at her, "Obsessive Compulsive. You?"
"I've
locked myself out so many times, I make sure I have everything I
need, and double check my keys before I shut the door. It's gotten to
be so habitual, I can't seem to help it."
"Have
you locked yourself out lately?"
"No,
not for ages."
"Then
go with what works."
He
led the way to the car, walking around and opening the passenger door
for her. He waited until she was settled, closed the door and went
back to the driver's side. Starting up the car, he glanced at her.
"You
mentioned steak, does that still appeal? We have to city to choose
from, what do you fancy?"
Her
eyes brightened. "Steak works," she smiled. "I haven't
had a good steak in ages."
"You
working tomorrow?"
She
shook her head, "No, I have the day off for once, why?"
"Well
I know of this cozy place that has the best steaks and rum runners in
the state. I don't want to tempt you, if you have to get up early.
Working with a hangover's a bitch."
"I
wouldn't know. Have you done it often?"
Morgan
laughed. "A few times more than's good for me." He put the
car in reverse, backing swiftly out of the driveway.
About
twenty minutes later they pulled up in front of a quaint, roadside
restaurant. The parking lot wasn't well lit, but it was full of cars
and the restaurant looked ready to burst at the seams. Morgan parked
at the far end of the lot and opened her door for her. Putting his
arm around her in a friendly way, they walked in comfortable
familiarity up the steps and onto the wooden porch of the building.
It looked more like a shack at a fishing camp, than it did a
steakhouse, but who was she to argue? Morgan opened the door and loud
music greeted them. She wasn't prepared for the style of music, but
liked it. It was sort of an Industrial/ Indy/ Rock blend that was
really unusual. A questioning glance told her that he'd been saving
it as a surprise. The music pounding her ears was almost
uncomfortable, but he led her past the stage where the band was
playing, smiling and waving to the musicians. They walked until they
came to a weathered wooden deck, built out over the water. Morgan
held her chair while she sat, then motioned a waiter as he sat across
from her.
"You
like the tunes?" He gestured toward the band, which was muffled
enough for conversation.
"They're
great! I wasn't exactly prepared for industrial-indy-rock. Or
whatever it's called."
He
chuckled. "That will do. I don't think the band really knows
what to call it. It's their own blend. When they get famous, someone
will give their genre a name, and then a dozen other bands will
follow them."
"When?
Have they signed with anyone?"
He
shrugged, smiling as the waiter approached with a couple of menus and
two glasses of water on a tray.
"Thanks,
Duke."
"Sup,
Morph. Who's the lady? Isn't she a little classy for you?" He
bowed to Tanya.
"Hi,
I'm Tanya," she grinned. "Morph?" She raised an
eyebrow at her dinner companion.
"Nickname,"
Duke replied. "You two work together?"
©
2020 Dellani Oakes
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