“Where are we going?” Sally asked.
“Rickard’s, my favorite restaurant,” I said.
“You were able to get us a reservation at Rickard’s?” Sally asked, seeming genuinely amazed. “That place is always completely booked up.”
“I have some powerful friends,” I said.
“Cool. I won’t tell Gia. She hates that kind of stuff.”
“Sorry,” I cringed.
“It’s fine,” she laughed. “She considers it pompous. I consider it awesome.”
The limo pulled into one of the VIP spots right up next to the door, even closer than the government sanctioned disabled parking spots. Yet another example of things can’t be right but can still be true.
“Mr. Gaspin, welcome, sir,” the hostess said as we walked in.
“Thank you, Sarah, is my table ready?”
“Certainly, right this way,” Sarah said, leading the way into the dining area.
The table was practically in its own area. Made of dark walnut, it had a single red candle burning in the middle.
Sally’s jersey clearly went against the usual dress code but it wouldn’t be the first time they had bent the rules for me. On balance, it was more important to keep me happy and coming back than to follow the rules to a tee.
“I’ve always wondered what it was like in here,” she remarked.
“Does it live up to your expectations?” I asked.
“And then some,” she agreed.
“Glad to hear it.”
“You’re not trying to buy me back, are you?” she asked.
“No, not directly. I want you to be happy and have a good time. The money involved is more of a facilitating factor rather than a means in and of itself.”
“Huh,” she said.
“What?”
“That was a much more thoughtful answer that I expected.”
“Thanks?”
“I think that came out wrong,” I said.
“It’s okay, I think I understand and frankly I don’t blame you. I certainly don’t give off the impression of being an intellectual. Smart, sure, I’ve created apps from nothing but that’s not the same as being thoughtful.”
“Meta-thinking,” Sally said.
“Thinking about thinking, exactly,” I said.
“I took psych when I got into college.”
“That makes sense,” I said.
“Because I ended up a lowly baker?”
“There is nothing lowly about bakers, especially not the way you do it. You have a genuine talent,” I said.
“Thanks,” Sally said, blushing again.
She was really cute when she was flustered.
“The reason it makes sense you took psych is that you can use the term meta-thinking correctly. It isn’t exactly a common term.”
“Ah, right. Can I ask how you know about it?”
“I read a lot,” I said, “a habit I picked up in elementary school. I didn’t have many friends at least until high school and even then, it was the guys I’m still friends with now.”
“Interesting, you never struck me as a loner.”
“I wouldn’t say a loner, really. I just tended to annoy, confuse or scare most people.”
“Scare? Scare how?”
“I went through a bit of a goth phase. Even though I was also a geek. If the computer thing hadn’t worked out, I’d had a back-up plan of being a librarian or comic book creator. It got a bit weird,” I said.
“Sounds like it, but at least you got through it, right?”
“Exactly,” I said, “it also gave Simon and me a lot to talk about. The reading anyway. Derek and Reece kind of came along with him in a weird sort of package deal.”
“As is often the case, particularly in high school,” she said.
“Do you have any other friends from back then, besides Gia?” I asked.
“Not really. I had friends then and have friends now but Gia, and to a lesser degree Maya are really the only hold overs, though I only recently started to get closer to Maya and that was through Gia.”
“I see.”
“I wonder why we didn’t get menus,” Sally remarked.
“I already ordered,” I said.
“You what?”
“It is a thing you can do. They know my preferences already. I took a guess as to yours, going by what you ate most of during our roof-top dining experience. I hope you don’t find that pretentious or too assuming. I was trying to be suave and skip the ordering stage, like we’re such important guests that they just waltz our food right out without us having to tell them what we want. Sometimes I have bad ideas, though, I admit that.”
“Back up. You remember that?” she asked.
“Of course I do,” I said.
“No, I mean you remember how much I ate of what?”
“Yeah, I have a pretty good memory for detail,” I said.
“Is that how you knew my size for the jersey? You saw it on my shirt tag, I’m guessing.”
“Good guess,” I said.
“It must be no challenge remembering your credit card number then.”
“Not a bit,” I said.
“Must be useful.”
“In some ways, definitely,” I agreed.
“What else do you remember?” Sally asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Is it only numbers and food?” Sally asked.
“Oh, no, I remember most things,” I said.
“Including these?” she asked, nodding down towards her gorgeous breasts.
“Among other things,” I said.