Frankie Lawson (_hiss) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-12-21 18:55:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | frankie lawson, hanna pulaski |
New Beginnings
Who: Hanna & Frankie
When: This Week
Where: Zaytoon, a Persian restaurant
Rating: G
Hanna took a long shower after work, the muggy day meaning she felt gross after a shift of pedaling around delivering mail and packages. She’d carried the bike up a flight of stairs to her apartment, because there had been some cars broken into in the past month or so. The bicycle was probably the most expensive thing she currently owned in addition to being her source of income, and while she had to put it in the smaller second bedroom, she felt more comfortable knowing it was safely locked up when she was done with it for the day.
She and Frankie had planned to meet at the restaurant instead of beforehand. This was the first date she’d had in over a year, and she’d decided on casual dress; khakis and a lightweight blouse, tennis shoes. And yes, the shoes were new, but only because they‘d been on sale. A little nervous, but in a good way.
The sky was just starting to darken when she left her apartment, trying not to put too much anticipation on what might happen. He’d seemed so surprised when she’d asked, surprised and, dare she say it, flattered. Hard not to get ahead of herself when she thought of it like that.
Frankie was nervous. Of course he was nervous; it had been months since he’d been on a real date, and months before that since he’d been on a date that he’d been so looking forward to. There was something about Hanna that made him smile to think of her. The conversation between them had been easy enough; hopefully it would last.
He’d dressed with the intention of looking cool, as though that were even a possibility. Frankie knew better than that. He might be able to look the part, at least for a little while, but the moment he opened his mouth, he was sunk. Especially if he laughed. So he went for it: black button down shirt, leather jacket a few years out of season, his “nice” jeans, hair as artfully tousled as it would allow. He was fighting a losing battle, but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
Zaytoon was, as promised, in a grocery store, and Hanna stood on the sidewalk people-watching while she waited. The night was promising to be clear, even a little chilly. A walk afterwards might be nice. This far away from the glitz of the casinos, she could almost think she was in another city.
She stepped aside to let a woman with a stroller get past, through the doors and then further inside. Glanced at the entrance to the parking lot and wondered if she was about to make a fool of herself.
Frankie had snagged a table as soon as he arrived at the hidden gem of a restaurant and had been drumming his fingers on the wooden lacquered tabletop while he waited, trying to burn off a little nervous energy. He bit his lip and traced the black lettering on the table with the blunt end of a bundle of napkin-wrapped cutlery until he received a little too much side-eye from another patron, before going back to his incessant drumming. If Hanna hadn’t arrived just as she did, he thought perhaps the people at the opposite table would have started throwing things.
Spotting her standing there, Frankie stood a little too quickly, knocking his chair back a full two feet.
“Hanna! Hey! Over here!” he called, voice booming just a tad over the muddled conversations surrounding him.
She heard the chair almost before she heard his voice, and the corners of her mouth pulled upwards into a smile as she entered the establishment. He’d put as much effort into his clothes as she had, she could tell even before she got to the table, and it made her breathe a little easier. Good, she wasn’t the only one who’d been worried.
“I almost didn’t find the place,” she said, noticing that a nearby diner was giving Frank a look of muted annoyance. Her expression flattened out as she made eye contact, and the stranger directed his attention to his plate. The warmth returned as she looked back at her companion, because his awkwardness was endearing and she was protective of him over it.
“You’re probably gonna have to tell me what’s good, but if we could start with a drink order, that’d be fine too.”
“Sorry, I didn’t even think of that,” Frankie said with a sheepish shrug. Inviting someone out to a restaurant placed in a grocery store probably hadn’t been his best decision, but he had grown to love his adopted hometown to the degree that he wanted to show people all of the hidden gems. Zaytoon was just such a place. “Isn’t the easiest joint to find in the city, but I know people get tired of all of the gimmicky places on the Strip, ‘specially when you live here. Thought it’d be fun.”
He pulled out the chair across from where he was sitting and then mentally kicked himself; he’d had more than one date get offended by such a gesture, but his mother had ingrained some manners into him with the help of a few smacks to the back of the head in his youth.
“Sorry,” he muttered again, and resumed his own seat to tip the laminated menu into Hanna’s view. “Drinks here are good. There’s your standard soda fountain stuff but some other stuff too. There’s this basil and pomegranate soda that sounds weird as hell but it’s really good. And then, you know, teas and coffees and all… easy on the Turkish coffee though, if caffeine gives you trouble.”
He was rambling. Great, Frankie thought to himself. Diarrhea of the mouth. Put a fucking sock in it, you meatball!
“Frank.”
She reached across the table and took his free hand, lacing their fingers together so that their palms aligned. Gave him a warm, understanding smile.
“If you’re feelin’ self-conscious right now, you shouldn’t. Not because of me. I, uh...this is the first time I’ve been out with someone in eighteen months. First time I thought about it, too. However you think you are right now, there’s nothing wrong with it.”
Frankie’s gaze dropped to the table top, a faint blush rising in his cheeks alongside a small smile. She was certainly direct, but in such a way as not to make him feel bad about it. Maybe there were a few good souls left in Vegas after all.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze in return. “Sorry… it’s just… I mean, yeah, it’s been a while for me too.”
He looked up and cleared his throat, trying to regain some sense of decorum. “Hey, you ever had baba ghanoush?”
“Yeah, but it was a while ago. I don’t really have time to cook lately, though I can. Just no time for it.”
He had nice hands, she decided, and she was also a little pink around the ears when she ordered a cold pomegranate tea. This would be her first fall and winter in Nevada, and the weather had yet to change much. She craned her neck enough to see the menu offerings, wavering between pork and lamb.
“So. What about you? What does Frank Lawson do when he’s off hours?”
“I’m not gonna lie, I like to hit the tables now and again,” Frankie relented after ordering a glass of lemonade; he liked the way the citrus would play against the spice of the Middle Eastern fare that the restaurant served. “I’m not an addict like some guys ‘round here but I have a little fun now and again. Never go home with my pockets turned out.”
He figured it was best to mention that up front. People he met seemed to have an extreme opinion when it came to the city’s gaming culture. Some went overboard while others held a complete intolerance for it, preaching to anyone who might listen about the evils of the casinos.
“How about you, Hanna?”
“I did some off track betting when I first moved here, but gave it up because the odds never worked in my favor.No harm in a little gambling.”
She settled back in the chair, added, “I’ve been seeing some of the galleries. The museums, too. I even went to the Mob Museum, the one downtown. I’m from Chicago, we have a whole fascination with that kind of thing.”
Their drinks arrived, and Hanna sampled hers, declared it very good. “”Trying to figure out what I want to do next. I wasn’t planning to keep the courier job forever, just needed something to keep me afloat until I found something else. Just don’t know what it is yet.”
Frankie grinned. “I’m from New York originally, I think that means we have to have some kinda argument over pizza at some point,” he teased. The conversation was coming easier than he had expected, and he was glad for it. He was the kind of guy who had a lot of acquaintances, but not as many good friends. Getting a little closer to someone new was always a treat.
“You should check out the Neon Boneyard, if you haven’t yet,” he went on. “They got the signs from all the old casinos from back in the day, when everything was still mobbed up. Or, obviously mobbed up, I guess. It’d be stupid to think they don’t still got a hand in the till, y’know?”
He frowned. “The history is interesting and all, they just kinda piss me off. I don’t like people who rook the game. Fair is fair, right? But the courier thing, that’s gotta get your foot in the door of a lot of interesting places. Might be worth holding onto.”
“I’ve been looking into some online courses. Continuing education type stuff. I didn’t go to college because my grades were shit and we didn’t have the money for it anyway. College was never really a thing where I grew up, though. There was trade school and the military, and sometimes community college if you didn’t go straight from high school to a job, but not so much leaving home to go to an out of state school.”
Hanna was aware of her own blue collar snobbery when she said it, the pride of coming from a long line of people who worked with their hands. One of the reasons pedaling around on a bike all day had appealed to her was because it was a physical job. At the mention of the Boneyard, she nodded. “That’s next on the ist. Maybe this weekend.”
She decided on a plate of chicken kabobs and lentil soup, with an eye out for the dessert menu. She hadn’t had baklava in ages.
“College wasn’t my thing either,” Frankie agreed with a nod. “Nothin’ against it, I just… I dunno, felt like I spent enough time in a classroom. Besides, after the third time I failed Algebra, pretty sure they just bumped me out to get rid of me, right?”
He glanced over the menu, trying to decide what he would order. He hadn’t been to Zaytoon in a good long while and everything sounded good. He was leaning towards the gheimeh but had a horrible vision of spilling it down the front of his shirt; besides, the fesenjan looked just as appetizing. He decided on the chicken dish and ordered it with as friendly a smile as he could muster, knowing a little politeness went a long way when you were most likely mispronouncing the name of a dish.
“Not like I was thinkin’ on being a teacher or a doctor or anything,” he went on. “So I figured, why put myself through it? Besides, by then, I was on my own, and who could afford it, right?”
“Parents split up?”
She gave him a sympathetic look as she arranged her utensils on the table. Could picture it, Frank as a kid of divorced parents who had to make his own way.. Her folks were still together, but there had been times when Tom Pulaski had slept on the couch while his wife occupied the bed alone. Hanna toyed with her paper napkin before smoothing it out on the table top.
“What brought you out to Nevada? Vegas has a particular feel to it, what was the draw?”
“Nah,” Frankie said, shaking his head. “Thought they should have once or twice, the way they argued, but… nah. The old man got sick, Ma went about a year after him. Didn’t really have any other family or anything, so I just…”
He made a gesture of slapping his hands together and sliding one off to indicate his departure from his childhood home. “Hit the road. Money ran out when I hit Vegas, so I figured it was as good a place as any to stop.”
He leaned back in his seat slightly and glanced about the restaurant as if he were surveying the city itself. “It’s an odd kinda place but I like the energy. How about you?”
She hadn’t prepared for this part. She hadn’t even mentioned her turn in the Guard yet. Hanna lifted one shoulder in a shrug and said, “I sorta took the military route, but it didn’t turn out like I thought it would. Did a short stint in the Guard, but I decided I wanted a change of scenery for a while, at least until I decide if I want to go back to a weekend warrior.”
Would she tell him? Probably, but later. It was too big of a deal to hide it for long, but they were just getting to know each other. And maybe she wanted to separate herself from it a little, at least until they did know each other better.
“Chicago’s too cold this time of year anyway,” she said with another smile. “It’s just barely starting to be below seventy every day. I could get used to that.”
“No kidding? Man, gotta admire that,” Frankie said earnestly. He had no stamina for a military career -- he lacked the discipline required -- and could look up to anyone who even gave it a shot. Besides, he couldn’t exactly get a pass from active duty for full moons. “Gotta hand it to you, to be able to work with that kind of structure.”
He barked a laugh, a little too loud and a little too honking, unable to stop himself. “I can’t even stand it when I get stuck in a repeating schedule at the shop!”
“I was one of three girls who took shop in high school, worked with my uncle as an electrician’s assistant for a while. The job didn’t pay a whole lot because I didn’t have a certificate, but he was union and so I got to squeak by as far as that went. But work was pretty thin on the ground back home for a while, so I checked into the local recruiter’s office.”
Her shoulders went up and down as if it was no big deal, and she added, “I socked most of the signing bonus away in the bank, so I’ve got some cushion until whatever’s next comes along. Working on commission does have its perks, though.”
Hanna gave Frank a slower smile as their server approached, had another sample of her tea before deciding to ask for a refill when she was finished. Did you tip in a restaurant inside a grocery store? She’d leave a couple of dollars just in case.
Frankie leaned in a little closer and made an exaggerated show of looking over his shoulders. “Look, I ain’t one to judge and all, but can I give you a little advice?” he said, unable to keep the smile from his own pending humor from creeping on his face. “This city? Don’t be goin’ around talkin’ about money you got socked away. Somebody’s liable to try to drag you into a poker tournament when you aren’t looking,” he finished with a wink.
The server arrived with their food and Frankie smiled and offered thanks for their meals, pausing to inhale the sweet spicy scent wafting from his chicken stew. “Man, this smells great,” he said. “Hope you like what you’ve ordered.”
“I never gamble with anything I can’t afford to lose.”
She said it mock seriously as she inhaled the fragrant smell of properly cooked chicken, playfully bumped his calf under the table. The server had refilled her cup, and she set it aside for the first few bites. Gave a nod of approval and a thumbs up while she chewed.
“Next time, you can come to my place,” she said once she’d cleared her mouth. “If I can remember how, I’ll cook something for the both of us.”
And if she didn’t kiss him at least once before the evening was over, she’d regret it. Maybe more than once.
Frankie grinned at the thought of a home cooked meal. “Now that’s a skill I envy,” he admitted between bites of his stew. The sweetness of the molasses and pomegranate paired with the cinnamon and nutmeg almost reminded him of Christmas; he had forgotten for a long while how easily the scents and flavors of well made food could bring back old memories.
“Me, I got a stove I’ve never used and a microwave that has overseen the destruction of more than one frozen hot dog,” he went on, and mimed an explosion with his fingers, pursing his lips to make a soft fwoosh sound to accompany the gesture. “I tried making a lasagna once and my kitchen looked like a crime scene before I even got to the pre-heatin’ part.”
“I’ve been living off microwaved mac and cheese and TV dinners since I got here, at least when it’s not take out whatever,” Hanna said with a one shouldered shrug. “Never seems like there’s enough time for it during the week, and by the weekend I’m just too lazy to get around to it. Maybe in the next phase, huh?”
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, and Hanna had just finished her first kabob when she said, “Just so you know, I’m really glad you decided to come out with me tonight. I’ve been told I’m too forward. Maybe I am. But like I said, it’s been a while since I really noticed someone interesting, and I’d like to get to know you a lot better.”
“I like forward, forward is good,” Frankie said, nodding. “I’m the kinda guy who maybe takes too long to speak up now and again. Lotta times, that makes me miss out on something great. Damn lucky thing for me that you spoke up, or I’d be still sittin’ there wishing that I had.”
It was an honest confession, if a little embarrassing; Frankie’s cheeks went a little pink at just having said it. He couldn’t help himself, really. He had no illusions about what kind of guy he was, even if he could clean up nice on occasion; there weren’t many women who would look twice at the clerk behind a pawnbroker’s counter, and even fewer as interesting and lovely as Hanna.
He bit his lip and grimaced. “Really sellin’ myself here, huh?” he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.
“Selling yourself short.”
Though on some level, she got it. She hadn’t been kidding when she told Brian that she’d nearly forgotten what ‘okay’ felt like, and if Frank might have waited too long before speaking up, her forwardness in just putting her interest out there was in part because she wanted to remind herself. Stumbling towards something with someone was always better than doing it alone.
Hanna lifted her cup of tea with a mock serious expression on her face. “Let’s toast to whatever comes next. It’s almost a new year, so maybe a little advance planning won’t hurt.”
Frankie raised his glass and clinked it against Hanna’s. “To a New Year, and new beginnings.”