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“Do you have a reservation, sir?” asked the maître d, a slender man.
He gazed into his eyes. “Yes, name is Lev. A table in the back.”
The maître d glanced at the list. “I’m sorry…”
“I’ll take my table now.”
He nodded. “Of course, sir.”
Rachel talked to the bartender, a woman, and fortunately, hadn’t noticed him as he followed the head waiter to his private table.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Vodka, but bring the young lady with the black dress at the bar your best bottle of chilled champagne.”
“An entire bottle, sir?”
“Her name is Rachel. You can tell her it’s from an old friend sitting alone.”
He winked. “Yes, sir.”
Sorry, Howard. Lost to the wolf’s desires, he swallowed his guilt. No harm in just one dinner.
Rachel slowly sipped her martini. The tables had all been booked, but she was okay just sitting at the bar for a drink and appetizers. On the way over, she’d bit the bullet and called Maggie about the wolf and break-in. She hadn’t been angry at all. She told Rachel not to worry about it. No harm done and she’d add an extra deadbolt to the back door when she returned. Rachel asked her if anyone owned a pet wolf. Maggie said the only dogs she’d seen were small lap dogs and one older golden retriever two houses down. This spooked Rachel more. She saw a giant wolf, like none she’d ever seen before. With its blue glowing eyes, it almost looked fake as if created by CGI. Could her brain be playing mind tricks on her? She ate the olive and watched couples enter. She finished the martini. Must be nice to bring in the New Year with a significant other.
As the restaurant grew noisier, Rachel became lonelier. This was her first New Year’s Eve alone. The last couple years, she had skipped the celebratory drink to work on patients, but at least she’d been around people, even if they were colleagues and patients. The bartender, a graduate student had struck up a conversation, but only briefly. Couldn’t blame her, this had to be one of the busiest nights for drinks. Good tips.
The head waiter brought her a bottle of champagne chilled in a small bucket. “For you, ma’am.”
Rachel shook her head. “This must be a mistake. I didn’t order this.”
“It’s from the gentleman sitting at the back table.” He pointed.
“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t know anyone.” Rachel narrowed her eyes toward the back, but couldn’t make any one out. She often turned male heads, but this place was not a typical pick up joint.
“I’m quite sure, ma’am. Your name is Rachel, is it not?”
“Yes.” She stood. Her skin chilled. Aside from Maggie and her boyfriend Jim, no one in New Orleans knew her name. Her heart skipped a beat. Had her father decided to visit? But how would he know she was here?
The head waiter picked up the bucket. “If you wish to join him, I’ll take you to his table and you can both bring in the New Year with our finest champagne.”
Stranger danger. Finest? “How old is this gentleman?”
He furrowed his brow. “I’d guess in his early thirties, and athletic.”
Nothing would happen in a crowded restaurant. “Very well.” She followed the head waiter to the secluded table. Her eyes widened. “Lev?”
He stood and towered over her. “Rachel, what a pleasure to see you have healed so well.” He muttered something in Russian, which sounded poetic and complementary.
Like a bumbling idiot, she asked. “What… are you doing here?”
“Business.” He took her hand. “Please, sit and join me.” He smiled at the waiter. “Pour us a glass.”
“Yes, sir.” The waiter’s eyes glazed and he appeared in a hypnotic trance rather than the usual polite courtesy toward a customer. He poured them a glass. “I will return with the dinner menu.”
As the waiter walked away, a man in a nearby table called, “Hey, we’ve been here a lot longer.”
Rachel sat, but then looked behind her at the entrance. “If you are waiting for a friend, I won’t be long.”
