Warren
I approached the apartment building without receiving a single phone call all day. She’d been on my mind since the day I saw her being lifted into the air and away from the base. My luck in love had been far from satisfactory since getting out of the army, but it hadn’t exactly been my first priority either.
I hit the buzzer at the door and waited to hear her voice. After years of not seeing her, I could still hear her laughter ringing in my memory. There was something special about Rose; she had been the first woman to leave a real impression on me.
“I’m on my way down,” she answered, interrupting my thoughts.
I hailed a cab for us as I waited. When she walked through the doors and made her w
ay to me, she demanded every eye on the street. I eyed her as the cab took off toward the restaurant I had instructed the driver to take us to. The red, low cut dress she had on played off her dark hair and enticing eyes.
“You look incredible,” I said.
“Thanks. You never told me where we’re going.”
“A picnic in the Afghanistan mountains.”
She laughed.
“No, it’s a place called Maggiano’s,” I said. “Do you know it?”
“Yes! They have the best pasta.”
“You have good taste then.”
Tall buildings passed outside on either side of us, so different than Afghanistan buildings that were rarely more than two-stories high.
“Whatever happened with that story you were working on?” I asked, curiosity suddenly coming over me.
Rose frowned. “Well, after Captain Jacoby kicked me out before I’d had a chance to put the story together, my readers and the website that had paid me to go to Afghanistan weren’t happy, to say the least. I had a hard time finding work as a freelance journalist after that.”
“That sucks.”
“You’re telling me.”
“But you’ve got a better job now?”
“I don’t know if I would go that far, but it pays the bills. What about you? What happened after…that night?”
At the mentioning of that night, the mood shifted. Rose looked away, peering out the window on her side.
“Things didn’t go too well for me either. I left the Savage Soldiers about a year later.”
“What have you been doing since then?” she asked, turning back to face me.
“Oh, a little of this and a little of that. Let’s forget about work and the past for now though. Let’s just be two people about to have a great dinner together.”
Rose’s smile returned, putting me at ease. “I don’t think it will be as romantic as a picnic in the foothills of a mountain range, but I’m game,” she said.
The driver pulled over to the side of the road in front of Maggiano’s. I paid the driver and then got out, glancing around.
“I haven’t eaten here in a while,” Rose said. “It’s so expensive.”
“My treat.”
We walked to the front of the restaurant and I opened the door for her. Once inside, the hostess smiled, recognizing me.
“Mr. Lewis, your table is ready.”