by Nella Tyler
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, maybe a little later; too early for most people to go out and have dinner, but then again, it was Atlantic City, and like I said, just about everything was available on the menu. If I had decided to order an omelet I had no doubt that I would be able to do so. The diner we walked into was cute, decorated in a retro ’50s style: red plastic booths, white tables with spackling on them, black-and-white square tiled floor, a jukebox on one end with an Out of Order sign on it. Red napkin holders and a glass containing wrapped silverware stood at each end of the tables, menus tucked in between. We didn't have to wait to be seated. The place was practically empty. We each grabbed a menu from the holder by the napkins and began to peruse the offerings.
In a matter of seconds, a server came to the table and requested our drink orders. I requested ice tea while Savannah ordered a soda. By the time the server got back with the drinks, we were both ready to order. She gestured for me to go first.
"I'd like the meatloaf and the mashed potatoes and gravy with a side of green beans, please," I said.
Savannah made a face. "I'll have the baked Tilapia, with steamed rice and diced carrots."
The waitress nodded and then walked away to give our order to the cook who worked behind a revolving door. Savannah snatched both the menus up off the table and tucked them back into their place by the napkins.
"Seriously, Maggie? Meatloaf and mashed potatoes?"
"What?" I said glancing up at her. "I love meatloaf and mashed potatoes. It reminds me of home."
"Home schmome,” she sighed. "You know what reminds me of home?"
I shook my head. Savannah spoke very little about her home life.
"A cold can of Spam."
I gave her a look that was meant to convey commiseration, understanding, and compassion. She saw the look and waved her hand at me.
"Not to worry, Maggie, it's okay. I didn't have the best life growing up, but you know what? I turned out okay, didn't I?"
I nodded, smiling as I sipped my iced tea. Occasionally a pedestrian walked by the window, but other than that, everything seemed unusually quiet for this time of day.
"Why, look at me now," she smiled. "I'm a Blackjack dealer at one of the best casinos in Atlantic City. I have a date almost every night, and some of them are repeats, but nevertheless, I keep myself busy, earn my living. For now, I'm perfectly content with keeping things the way they are."
She looked at me and lifted an eyebrow. "So, tell me, girlfriend. You got Ben to put all your stuff back. How did he react when you told him to get rid of it?"
I offered a slight shrug. "He didn't seem mad or anything, if that's what you mean. I just explained to him that the stuff that I had, even though it might not have been as nice as the stuff he bought, was stuff that I had worked for. To be honest, Savannah, I feel a sense of pride when I lay down to go to sleep on my squeaky bed, or when I sit on my lumpy couch. Do you understand where I'm coming from? I bought the stuff. All by myself. It's mine."
Savannah grew serious. "I understand, Maggie, and I'm sorry if I tried to push you too hard to accept those things. It's just that I'm not used to such nice stuff, and the fact that he just gave it to you just about blew my mind. I do have to admit, though, if the shoe was on the other foot, I’d have kept the stuff."
The face she made caused me to laugh. Moments later, the server brought out our food. She placed the steaming plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes in front of me, the mashed potatoes dripping with brown gravy. The fish Savannah had ordered had come in a paper bag, which the server cut open after she placed the plate in front of my girlfriend. The fish smelled delicious, I had to admit, but if I had my druthers, I always chose meat and potatoes over any other kind of food.
We waited for the food to cool off a bit, gathering our napkins, situating our silverware and replacing our glasses where they would be out of the way. Savannah held the fork in one hand, ready to take her first stab at the Tilapia, when all of a sudden she gasped and froze.
"Oh my God, speak of the devil," she explained.
"What is it?" I asked, turning to look in the direction Savannah pointed just outside the window. Looking over my shoulder I saw a man approaching the diner. Oh my God, it was Ben! He would probably see Savannah, but my back was to him. I quickly looked forward. I don't know what came over me, but suddenly in a panic, I practically dove under the table, away from the window. I didn’t want him to see me. Savannah began laughing hysterically.
“Maggie, get out of there…come on. We should invite him to eat with us."
I nearly banged my head on the table trying to make eye contact with Savannah to tell her that if she did, I'd kill her, but at that very moment, Savannah was scooting out of the booth and making her way out toward the front door. Crap. She was waving, calling out Ben's name, trying to get his attention. There I was, still scrunched under the table practically on my hands and knees, when I heard the door of the diner open. I was trying to extricate myself from the table and back onto my seat when I saw Savannah slide into her seat, followed seconds later by a pair of jean-clad legs.
I finally squeezed my way back up into my seat, straightening my hair, as I acted surprised to see Ben sitting there. Savannah just grinned at me like the Cheshire cat. "Oh, hello, Ben," I said, feigning surprise. "Where did you come from?"
"Outside," he grinned. “Your friend here flagged me down, told me you were in here eating an early dinner." He lifted an eyebrow. "What were you doing there under the table?"
I quickly glanced at Savannah and knew she wouldn't give me up. "I dropped my fork," I blurted. At the same time I placed the napkin I clutched in my left hand over the fork sitting next to my plate, hoping desperately that he hadn't already seen it.
Oh my gosh, I had never been so embarrassed. At the same time, I wasn't quite sure if I was miserable that Savannah had dragged him in here, or whether I felt excited. I hadn't behaved that way in so many years I couldn't even remember. What the hell? What had propelled me to dive under the table like a school kid who just seen her favorite crush walk into the cafeteria?
"Would you like to order something to eat?" I asked him, trying to capture the attention of the server. "We just got our food, and as you can see, we haven't even begun to eat yet, so if you'd like…?"
"No, I ate a late lunch today," he said.
When the server came to our table to see how our food was, she also asked Ben if he would like to order something to eat, but he shook his head.
"I'll take a cup of coffee, though, please."
After that, Ben smiled, glancing between Savannah and me. I felt self-conscious eating my food. Savannah was able to eat or fish in a relatively dainty manner because it was so flaky, as was the rice and the diced carrots.
Me? I had a big slab of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, both slathered with brown gravy, and the green beans were long. While normally I wouldn't have, I grabbed a new pair of silverware, placed the napkin over the other fork, just in case, and then proceeded to cut all the beans in half. I couldn't eat like I normally would with Ben sitting across from me, watching every move. In fact, my stomach was in such an uproar, my nerves jangling, that I wondered if I could eat at all.
The last thing I needed was to be unable to swallow a bite of meatloaf. I envisioned it getting stuck in my throat, then having to cough, and then even worse, getting stuck to the point I couldn't breathe. I imagined Ben jumping out of his seat and coming to my side, turning me around, and then wrapping his arms around my abdomen and giving me a Heimlich maneuver. The meatloaf flying out of my mouth to land on the table. Shit. I cut my meatloaf into very small pieces. At this rate, it would take me forever to eat my dinner.
"You guys working tonight?" he asked.
We both nodded. Actually, Ben and I didn't do too much of the talking, as Savannah pretty much monopolized the conversation. While I ate, one careful bite at a time, all the while trying to keep any gravy from dripping off my food and onto my chin or
clothes, I politely nodded and smiled when appropriate when Savannah said something, even though my eyes strayed again and again to Ben. It wasn't like I stared at him the entire time I ate. No, we just glanced at one another, and sometimes I saw him smile as he lifted the cup of coffee to his lips. He politely listened to Savannah, but I wondered how much of what she said he was tuning out to focus on me.
Because Ben was sitting right across from me, I didn't clean my plate as normally, no doubt about it, I would have, but I didn't want him to think I was a pig. I left a little bit of meatloaf, about a quarter of the mashed potatoes, and a few green beans, then leaned back in the booth, pretending like I was stuffed, even though I had been looking forward to a piece of warm blueberry pie for dessert. Savannah finished eating, as well, and several moments later, the server came by, asked as she could take our plates, and then invited us to order dessert. I shook my head, and after only a brief bit of hesitance, so did Savannah.
"No, thank you," Ben said. "Just the check, please."
The waitress stared at him for a moment, and I couldn't really blame her. He was one good-looking dude, no doubt about it. Now that the eating part was done, I finally noticed that he looked a little different tonight, or at least different than he usually did. Instead of a suit, he was wearing a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. The top couple of buttons of the shirt weren't done and I saw a peek of his chest and a few chest hairs. His arms were bare, not covered by the long-sleeved dress shirts he usually wore inside the casino. I noted how solid and firmly muscled they were. Every time he moved one of his fingers, the muscular threads and tendons between his wrist and his forearm danced. Savannah noticed, too. It was almost mesmerizing.
In a way, I was happy Savannah had invited him to join us – although the moment we were alone, I would tell her that I would never speak to her again! Still, it was nice to see Ben in a different environment. He looked more comfortable, more relaxed. He could've fit into any number of social circles. If I didn't know him, which I didn't, I would've guessed he was in some type of career that kept them outside most of the time. Construction? Mechanics? I didn't know. Yet something else I needed to know about this man who was slathering me with gifts and pursuing my attentions.
The server came back to the table with a little tray with our receipt for the food. For a moment, the woman was uncertain who she should give the tray to. After all, Savannah and I were here first. I reached my hand out for it, but Ben gently took it from her hand, slid his other hand into his shirt pocket, and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. He tucked it into the tray and then gave it to the server with a smile. "Keep the change."
I stared at him in amazement. Our dinner couldn’t have cost more than twenty-five dollars. He had just given that waitress at least a twenty dollar tip, if not more, without even blinking?" I shook my head. "Ben, you didn't have to pay for our dinner, and you certainly didn't have to leave the server such a generous tip-"
"It was my pleasure, ladies," he smiled. "Besides, my aunt made her living as a waitress. I grew up appreciating how hard she worked and the fact that many customers could be stingy when it comes to leaving tips. I always over-tip, and I have no qualms about doing so."
That was practically the first bit of personal history I had ever learned about Ben. So, maybe he hadn't inherited all that money. If it was family money, chances were that his aunt would not have been working as a waitress. His generosity was admirable and touched my heart. Maybe that's what he was all about. Maybe he was just a philanthropist, a guy who gave money or things to people he thought could use it.
"Well, it's been nice visiting you ladies, but I must be going. I have a few errands to take care of before I come to the casino tonight," he said, rising.
After shaking hands with Savannah, and then staring down at me for a moment before offering his hand, I grinned and shook his hand. It was warm and strong. Before he released my hand he gave it a gentle squeeze, and then winked at me.
"I'll see you later tonight, Maggie," he said. Then, he turned and walked away from the table, pushing open the door to the restaurant and disappearing down the street.
While I watched him go, I realized I was actually looking forward to seeing him later on. Then, I turned to Savannah. "Savannah, if you ever do that again, you're going to be in big trouble."
She just shrugged and smiled. "Shall we call the waitress back over and order our dessert now?"
We both laughed, and as we ate dessert, talked about Ben, and then left the restaurant, we prepared for our upcoming shift. Actually, it turned out to be typical, nothing exciting or unusual. Ben sat at my table like he usually did, but he barely exchanged a glance with me. I knew he was trying to keep our relationship – or whatever it was – as unobtrusive as possible inside the casino, and I began to feel much more relaxed.
For now, he just seemed to be happy to be in my presence. I was content until one thought struck me. Sitting at dinner tonight, was it possible, could it be possible, that he had found Savannah more attractive and charming than me? Come to think of it, I had seen him glancing over to Savannah's side of the table several times.
My heart sank. Was I just imagining things? Taking things out of context and twisting it around? Did I care? Then, just before the other dealer came to change out the table, Ben turned to me and whispered.
"Will you go out with me tomorrow night?"
I stared at him a moment, captivated once again by those gorgeous eyes of his. "Yes," I said. "You know where I live now; you can pick me up there."
He nodded, and then I got busy changing out. After that, and without another word, I walked to the break room, clocked out, and made my way to my car. Still, the question about exactly who Ben was more attracted to – me or Savannah – kept swinging back and forth in my mind. I just wasn't sure and the question bated me the entire way home, while I took my shower, and then, when I climbed between my sheets to go to sleep.
Tomorrow was my day off. I decided that I had no control over what Ben did, and to be honest, if he latched onto Savannah, maybe my life could go back to normal. Still the thought of him being more attracted to her than me did cause me to feel a bit of the old green monster rising up from the depths. Plus, I knew she would take advantage. As much as I tried to push the idea out of my head, it lingered. Oh crap. I was in trouble. Because it was at that moment that I realized I had started falling for Ben.
Chapter 4
I slept in late, which I didn't do very often, but I was feeling quite content and lazy this morning. I expected Ben to text me or even call me at some point to let me know what time he was picking me up, although I didn't think it would be until early evening. I had no pressing errands or chores today.
In fact, as I lay there, comfortable in my own bed, I stared up at the ceiling, thinking that I was actually looking forward to going out with him again. I wouldn't admit it to anybody, not even Savannah. Still, I knew I deserved a break. I had always been very fun and outgoing, but since the divorce, I realized I had become severely introverted with two basic settings: work and sleep. Repeat. Now I had a chance to do something different. I guess it didn't really matter to me how it all ended as long as I didn't get hurt, but I wouldn't allow myself to be. I determined then and there that I would enjoy Ben’s company and companionship, but I wouldn't expect anything from him. As long as he knew the boundaries and didn’t expect anything from me in return, and knew that I wasn't going to be making any promises, I supposed it would be all right.
I had already firmly reiterated the fact that he was not to spend money on things or stuff just to get me to go out with him or impress me. Maybe tonight I could reaffirm my feelings about that. To me, a good guy wasn't someone who could just buy me things, but one who made that mental and emotional connection to me. A kind of guy that appeared to really care about what I thought, my feelings, my beliefs, and my attitudes. The more I compared Ben and my ex-husband, the more I realized how different they were. I couldn't even bring money into tha
t comparison because they were at such different ends of the spectrum it wasn’t even funny. Nevertheless, in the beginning, I had been content with my husband. We didn't have a lot, but we had enough.
Ben had everything he wanted, probably at the snap of his fingers. How many zeros were in his bank account? I couldn't imagine having that kind of money. I would've been happy if I had a few thousand dollars tucked into my bank account for a rainy day, but as of yet, any money I had left over in my bank account had no more than two zeros attached to it.
At any rate, I began to look forward to going out with him. I wondered where we would go, what we would do. Later that afternoon, he did text me.
Heads up, wear something nice, but it doesn't have to be formal. J
I’ll pick you up at five o'clock, your place.
I texted back that I would be ready and then made a beeline to my closet, wondering what I should wear. I didn't want to wear the same thing I had worn the first time he had asked me out, and so, I pulled out a pair of light tan colored slacks that draped and flowed almost like silk. I matched it with a light blue rayon-polyester blend top that tied at the waist, draped gently at the shoulders, and wasn't too low cut. I decided that would have to do, because to be quite frank, I didn't own a closet full of cocktail dresses that I could choose from every time we went out.
At five o'clock, I heard a knock on my door. I grabbed my purse and walked over to it, looked through the peephole, and saw that it was indeed Ben. I opened the door and slipped outside, closing the door quickly and firmly behind me.
"You're not going to invite me in?" he said with a grin.
"Nope," I said, smiling. "Where are we going?"
He took my hand as we walked down the hallway and toward the stairs that took us down to the lower floor and the exit doors of the apartment building. I didn't mind him holding my hand. It was large, warm, and strong, and my hand pretty much disappeared inside it. It gave me an odd sense of comfort.
