alice liddell (inquisitive) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-08-09 11:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | alice, rose red |
WHO: Angie and Sid
WHAT: A reunion. We have lots of those around here.
WHERE: City Center
WHEN: Backdated but still recentish. You know how it goes.
WARNINGS: HA.
Angie checked her reflection on more time in the mirrors of the Vdara lobby. It wasn’t that she was nervous per se. Her memories of Sid were all good ones. There wasn’t anything to be particularly nervous about. Then again, perhaps they were all too good. She hadn’t seen him in years but she could remember the weeks they spent together in New York. Her parents and sister had still been alive then. She’d just come back from abroad, lazily spending some downtime before she took up her museum position back in California. She found him, and they found themselves spending all their time together. And after her vacation, they parted with promises to keep in touch and only half meaning them. The texts and calls came less and less until they stopped. She hadn’t forgotten but she hadn’t thought much of him. Until he called again. She checked her make up once more as she smoothed down her short dress, green with dark pink floral patterns running up the sides. After she hung up the phone she realized hadn’t been sure where they were going but she thought this might suffice, dancing that careful line of dressy and casual. Besides what she was wearing and where they were going hardly mattered. As he had said, it was the company that was good, and she thought his was probably as good as she remembered. With the exception of the missing casino, Vdara looked like every other hotel on the Strip. Tall and glass and meant to be impressive, but Sid had grown up in cheap motel rooms, and he'd never found an appreciation for the modern skyscrapers of a city life. Even in New York, he'd liked boroughs better than downtown, and that extended to Las Vegas' bright strip. His own house was open and spacious, because riding in the backseat of a car with Drake for his entire childhood had left him feeling permanently claustrophobic, and he liked open spaces as a result. It was just sheet of glass for miles that he had trouble with. But he was willing to brave the busy Strip (for something other than a crime scene) for Angie. Sid remembered Angie as a breath of fresh air. She'd come around after Irene had gotten tired of his inattentive shit, and she'd come before Anne with her small town dreams. It was just dumb luck that he'd had a summer without EMS classes; he wouldn't have had the time for her otherwise. But he'd been at the end of a break, summer internship done and time to kill. She'd reminded him of Jenny, with her blonde hair and her sweet smile, and it had almost hurt to look at her. He remembered thinking how Drake would give him so much shit if he knew Sid hadn't slept with the gorgeous blonde, but Sid hadn't wanted to push it, and he hadn't wanted her to tell him to get lost. But summer had come to an end, and fires and obsession had taken over again. Anne had come along a year later, and she'd been quiet enough not to demand he pay more attention to her than to his work, and he hadn't thought of Angie in years. Until now, because talking to Cerise had dredged up the past. It had been a whim to call Angie at all, but she'd always been a good listener, and maybe he wanted something steady in his life, even if it was just a phone conversation. He hadn't expected her to be in Las Vegas. He wasn't sorry she was in Las Vegas. He parked his black SUV near the curb, in the area designated for check-ins, and he gave the annoyed valet a grin as he rounded the front of the vehicle. He was dressed in khakis and a grey henley that looked like it came from somewhere marginally upscale. He was still tall, still broad in the shoulders, and the years had only added a few lines to the corners of his eyes and a smattering of grey to his hair. Hands in his pockets, he looked around, looking for Angie; he'd know her anywhere, even after all these years. He hadn’t changed a bit. Oh he was a little older, maybe, but so was she. As far as she was concerned, she wasn’t that much different than the girl who spent one summer in New York on a museum crawl. At least, she was determined not to be much different. Her new position would not change her. “Hello, stranger,” she waved him closer, closing the last bit of distance between them with a grin. When he was finally in arm’s distance she pulled him into a hug, pressing a quick and friendly kiss to his cheek. She still wasn’t sure why he called her or even truly why they were going out for the evening. But at the very least, they were friends, and friends always got a warm welcome from her. “Hungry? Or did you want to dive headlong into what Vegas deems their best museums?” She couldn’t stop the waggle of her brows as she said it. His hands settled on her hips during the hug and kiss to his cheek, and the grin he gave her when she pulled back was genuine. He didn't grin as much as he used to, and it showed, a little rusty around the edges. "Whatever you want, sweetheart," he said about eating. "You're the tour guide," he added, hands back in his pocket and the kind of casual ease that came with being big and bulky and knowing his own space. He wasn't a self-conscious man; he never had been. Her waggle of brows was met with a genuine laugh, a belly rumble that was rough sandpaper, and he cocked his head toward her. "You look real good," he told her, all masculine male and compliment. He didn't see much point in hiding his appreciation, not when she knew he'd like how she'd looked then, too. Sid wasn't shy. He'd left whatever shyness he had behind when he'd tangled himself up in Cerise's adoration. He gestured with a hand, indicating she should lead the way. "Tonight, you get to call all the shots, Angie." She beamed at the compliment. Shy was relative for Angie but in the right environment, shy wasn’t applicable. Shy was for third dates and hints for something more. Not for compliments out in the open. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, lacing her arm with his as she took a moment to admire him. Still handsome, still charming, still a catch. It was a pity that they hadn’t worked out but she was still going to enjoy the evening. “Dinner,” she agreed with a little laugh, tugging their linked arms outside to the restaurants next door. Her appetite hadn’t changed any and he had just parked, after all. No sense in waiting around. “You can tell me how Vegas is treating you on the way to a really good steak.” Just the thought made her sigh and sag slightly against him, blonde hair tangling on his arm as they walked. He chuckled when she beamed. Angie had always been a quiet one for him. Sid had a tendency to go for the wilder girls, all the way back to Jenny, and Irene had a mouth on her like nobody's business. He blamed Cee, who'd taught him everything he knew about women. But Angie was different, and it was the reason he'd never pushed to seduce her into the sack. He wondered if any man ever had. Not that he was saying he could spell a virgin, but she'd always acted too pure to be sullied. Sid wasn't Drake, but he still noticed. It made him protective, and Sid generally didn't give a damn about being protective of anyone who wasn't blood. He let her tug on their linked arms, his grin telling her that he was willing to let her lead in any way she damn well pleased. "I like a woman who knows what she wants," he joked. Sometimes, he meant it, but it was all play just then. He grinned down at that blonde tangle on his arm, and he reached across and rubbed a strand between his thumb and forefinger. "Vegas is damn hot," he said, not trying to hide the way his fingers dragged along that length of blonde. "My brother's a damn mess. But work's good," he said, keeping it light on the walk. They'd get to the serious stuff eventually, and right now he was just glad to have her clinging to his arm. "You like it here? Not afraid of wilting in this damn heat?" She laughed softly along with him. There were very few instances, she found, where men liked a woman knowing exactly what she wanted. Thankfully this was one of them. It did make going on dates, or whatever this was exactly, much easier. “Hot is an understatement,” she reminded him, oblivious to the way he touched her hair. She wouldn’t have protested even if she had but her focus was mostly on maneuvering them through the crowd of people milling about City Center. That and the weather. Even with the sun starting to fall lower, it was still hot and it made her long for the air conditioning of the restaurant. Even more of a reason to not dawdle. “But I manage. I’m not that much of a hothouse flower.” Oh her upbringing had afforded her opportunities to beat the heat with air conditioned homes or trips abroad for better weather, but a little (or a lot) of sun wasn’t going to bother her. “Work keeps me busy and indoors. That helps.” Endless meetings, both in house and conference calls, usually kept her in her office before it got too hot, and long after the sun had set. That made this evening all the more special. A night out not discussing number crunching. How novel. “What’s wrong with your brother?” Concern easily flitted over her brow. Though she’d never met the man, and Sid never talked too much about his life outside of their summer together, she couldn’t help but worry. She was, after all, quite experienced with troublesome siblings and complicated lives with relatives. If anything, she wouldn’t have wanted Sid to go through anything like she had. He liked her laughter. Sid's life was filled with sounds of men brawling in the firehouse and a baby crying at all hours, and the only feminine sounds came from bars or quick places to catch a meal, waitresses and bartenders.. He liked how feminine Angie sounded, how soft. Sid had always been a sucker for those things in a woman, despite the fact that he was crap at knowing how to nurture them. "Being a hothouse flower has its benefits," Sid said easily, walking alongside her. "Gives a man the impression he's got something to do," he added, a grin that was easy and made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He was lucky in his appearance, all good natured and gruff, and the grin only made him look slightly rakish, softening the teasing some. "Once we realize you all don't need to be pampered, what are we supposed to do with our time?" His smile widened as the teasing continued, and he tried to imagine her in an office, toiling away behind a desk. He had a hard time with the image. He'd known her during a whirlwind summer, where work wasn't something either of them did. "How about you tell me about the job?" he asked, honestly curious. Maybe it was dangerous, talking to her about Drake. Maybe it was dangerous, being out with her at all. But Sid had a selfish streak that didn't let him see that. He believed he could keep her safe, now that he knew Lucien was still alive, and that was enough to make it okay with him, the fact that she was walking down the street on his arm. "Drinking too much," he said of Drake. "I just convinced him to move in. Our youngest brother died accidentally, and Drake took it hard." He grinned. "He'd like you, which is why meeting him isn't on the agenda for tonight, sweetheart." He paused, trying to remember the small details he'd learned about her life all those years back. "A sister, right?" Pampering. The notion made her grin. Angie always seemed to hit her limit far sooner than most women. Mainly because her life had been so… easy. Money ran deep on one end of the family, talent and charm on the other and while she had been uncomfortable to enjoy the fruits of someone else’s labor, as she had been getting older, it had become a little easier. Now at the very top of her company, with no one’s shadow to stand in and no one to answer to, she was starting to find a little more appeal in being pampered. Not that she was getting much in the way of pampering with men. Not that she was doing much with men at all. Questions about her job shouldn’t have surprised her, but still she started, melting into another laugh as she realized how ridiculous she sounded. “I… Well…” She flipped her hair over her ear, just a bit nervously. “Brand Pharmaceuticals?” She spared him a sidelong glance, checking for recognition. Though the medicine they hawked tended to go by their more famous original names, the company itself was still pretty well known. For the amount of money they annually raked it, they had to be. “My family owns it. I took over just earlier this year.” Saying she owned it was more correct but it always sounded so… pompous. “Caroline,” she started, finding it a good segue after she dropped that I’m-Richer-Than-God bomb, “inherited it after our dad died a couple of years ago. She wanted to and I thought her… enthusiasm to the job would be good for her.” Caroline, who skated by through her entire life and was patted on the head for it, finally wanted to be responsible. And Angie had never any aspirations for the family business. It seemed like a perfect fit. “But she never did break her habits.” While careful about disparaging her sister, she had complained a bit about Caroline’s reckless behavior when she and Sid had been back in New York. It had been easy opening up to him. “Finally they caught up with her and she passed. Taking over the company… I don’t know. It’s not exactly me but I couldn’t have let her or my dad down.” Her fingers twisted slightly against his arm as she shook her head. “I just wish I could’ve been there for her in the end, you know? If I had known things were going bad I could’ve come back to Vegas. I was just in LA. Just a quick trip.” She frowned as she tried to push those thoughts away. They weren’t exactly conducive for evening’s out and when she glanced back up before them, the glass doors were opening up. “It’s good that you’re with him. Drake, I mean.” She squeezed his arm again, fondly, as she lead them inside. “One day I’d like to meet him.” She grinned as she remembered the compliment. “Just be sure you’re around in case he gets too charming.” He whistled when she owned up to, well, owning a major drug company. It was a good natured whistle, and he chuckled at the end of it. "Beats putting out fires," he said, which wasn't actually what he did, but the battle between Engine and Rescue was very much an in-house thing, and he didn't get as touchy about it as other firefighters did. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for an office," he added. "I always thought I wanted law, but I spent my entire life moving around, and I think I'd go nuts stuck between four walls all day." It had taken him a long time to figure that shit out. Back at the beginning of college, all he'd wanted was to prove he could do what his dad had never wanted him to do. It had been a goal born out of the need to prove something to his dead old man, not out of any love he had for the idea of law. He didn't trust the justice system these days. Any system worth anything would have taken Lucien off the street years ago, but the man was still loose, still crazy as ever. "Caroline," he repeated, indicating that he was listening. He realized a few sentences into the memory jog about her sister that it all sounded past-tense, and he understood where they were going before they got there. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, heartfelt and dragging them to a stop for a moment, so he could look at her. Drake and dad, they had never been good about hugs or affection, but Sid was born a hugger, and he just needed to know if she needed it. He didn't care about glass doors opening just then. He remembered, belatedly, to grin at her when she mentioned meeting Drake. "Are you kidding? He'd steal you right out from under me." It was refreshing, not having any change with the revelation. It made her lean on his arm and beam back up at him, breaking even further as he reminded her of what he did. “But you’ve got the nice uniforms now,” she reminded him with a slight wag of her brow. Sid in a firefighter’s uniform. It was a wonder she didn’t swoon. The hug surprised her, but she returned it immediately. She’d always been something of a hugger, and the recent drop of relatives and moving away from her friends had made such a gesture a little more scarce out of late. She lingered as much as was necessary before resting her hands on his shoulders as she pulled back. She needed that a little more than she cared to admit and she offered him a soft, “Thanks.” When she tugged him along with her to the steakhouse she was grinning at the mention of Drake. “Like that’s going to happen when you’re here to distract me.” Not that she had actually met his brother, but from what she knew about him, it was clear Sid was more her type. It was easy to hug Angie. It was easy to be around Angie. Sid was selfish enough to appreciate how it felt to have an attractive woman on his arm, one that didn't look at him like she couldn't stand his work schedule, or like she couldn't forgive him for not loving her back the way she'd loved him. Angie had always been easy. Not as easy as Anne, who'd been too damn easy, but easy enough that it made him think of better days, easier days. Days when he'd honestly thought all the bad shit was behind him, and that he could quit looking in the rearview so damn much. He grinned when she tugged, going with more ease than any many his height had a right to. But he didn't care. He'd already smiled more than he had in months, and it was good to be out again after all those months of mourning and the cops breathing down his neck. "I wouldn't underestimate my brother. He's always been the one who had luck with the ladies, and I was always the dorky kid begging for advice," he said with a laugh, though some worry lingered in the joking. He moved ahead of her a second later, and he extended one long arm to open the door to the steakhouse, stepping aside to let her edge past him. He let the door close behind her, and he stayed close enough to her back to indicate possessiveness, the fact that he was with her, without crowded or jumping ahead to tell the hostess how many people were in their party. He wasn't the kind of man to hold to that kind of tradition, though he was male enough to settle a hand on the small of her back as someone edged past them. "Steak, huh?" he asked from over her shoulder. "You know how to win a man over. Can't say I get a lot of steak these days." Not when he usually rushed home to heat formula and change diapers. “Oh, please,” she scoffed, swatting his arm with her hand even as he held out the door for her. She couldn’t imagine anyone favoring his brother. Sid was always the complete package. Handsome, smart, leaving him in the dust seemed the very last thing anyone in their right mind would do. To each their own, she supposed. She smirked at the compliment, taking a seat easily before smiling politely at their host. “What can I say, my appetite hasn’t changed any.” Angie had always had a grand love of food. She had a grand love of a lot of things, and was fortunate enough to afford indulging, and she’d never let little things like date impressions dictate when she’d have a salad instead of a steak. “They don’t feed you this well at the station? Or do you not live there? I can’t lie, all I know about it is from television. I half imagine everyone in bunk beds sliding down fireman poles to get anywhere in the building.” He chuckled when she discounted Drake, but he was a vain and selfish man, and he liked the compliment. He believed it more now than when he was young, but he still felt second to Drake, even though he'd grown taller and broader than his older brother years back. He settled in his seat, and he glanced over the menu with half-attention. Once, his entire diet had been gas station junk and vending machine trash, but those days had been left behind when he got married. Anne had set a dinner on the table every night, even if he hadn't come home to eat it. He'd gotten used to good food, even if steak was usually too pricey. He ordered a beer when the waiter came, and he gave her a chance to order her drink, and he grinned when she asked if they fed him at the station. "I have a house, I'll have you know. But I spend at least three days a week straight at the station. It's close to the house, so I stop in to check on Zoe." It was a good way to drop the fact that there was someone he needed checking in on. He was unthinkingly chauvinist enough to think all women would like a baby, though, so he wasn't worrying over it. "They feed us at the station, but it's mostly whatever gets grilled up that night." Which meant burgers and hotdogs, and they were lucky to get it all down some days. He grinned. "You're right on about the bunk beds and the poles. I'll swing you by sometime. It'll make everyone jealous." The idea of getting a tour of the station was an appealing one, and she tried to hide her youthful enthusiasm at the idea. Failed, but she had tried. Her reaction was tempered a bit with the appearance of their waiter, bringing beer for him and red wine for her, and of course this new curiosity he mentioned in passing. “Zoe?” This was the first she he’d heard of a Zoe and already her mind was turning as to who she was. Friend? Roommate? Dog? Possibilities were endless. When the waiter returned, he gave her a chance to order, and he ordered a steak for himself. Steak and potatoes, traditional food, but Sid was pretty traditional when it came to creature comforts. He knew the question was coming, and he looked her straight in the eyes when it did. "Zoe's my kid. She's six months old," he said, and the helpless shrug of shoulders and look he gave her was all little boy lost. "Her mom died a little over five months ago in an accident." The words were rote. He'd said them so many times that he couldn't even make them sound new anymore. They'd lost all the gruff feeling they'd originally owned about a month in, and now it was only his light eyes that gave away the fact that it had hurt, and that he was still floundering. He took a sip of his beer, and he waited. Steak and potatoes as well for Angie, with a stomach that could have rivaled Sid’s, and it made the waiter balk momentarily before he took her smile and her order seriously. As he left she shifted her attention back to Sid, giving it undivided and with it the quick flicker of emotions at his news. Surprise, sorrow, and a little bit of confusion to boot. “I’m so, so sorry, Sid,” she replied, sincere and sad at the look in his eyes and the tragedy that had befallen him months ago. She’d been surprised he hadn’t mentioned it earlier, but then again she supposed there was rarely ever a good time to bring up the dead. It was only sheer chance she’d brought up her family. She certainly didn’t enjoy it. “Tell me about her? About Zoe?” Her lips quirked in a warm smile, helpless against the prospect of adorable babies or even adorable stories about them. It faded only slightly as she added, “And your... wife?” He never specified but guilt flashed across her face. Maybe she shouldn’t have flirted too much. Or at least, worn a different dress. Sid waved it off, that look in her eyes and the guilt that flashed her face. "Don't do that. It's been nearly half a year, and we weren't as close as we should have been," he explained. He'd loved Anne, but he hadn't been in love with her, and there was no lying to himself about that now. He wasn't a man in mourning, and he wasn't going to be a hypocrite and go through the motions just to get sympathy from the woman across the table from him. "It fell apart for us a long time before she died," he said simply, and he took another sip of his beer and gave her a smile that said she didn't need to step carefully around him. "Still got an appetite on you, huh?" Zoe was an easier subject, and his face lit up as much as it could. Dimples dotted his cheeks, and his lips went smile wide. "Zoe doesn't do much yet. Some crying, some sleeping, a lot of making a mess, but she's always got a ready smile when she sees me, and I'd never realized how much that kind of thing mattered until she was born. I figure she'll give me plenty of headaches when she's older." He didn't sound bothered. He wasn't bothered. Some men might not want to raise a daughter on their own, but he was determined to do it right and not to screw up like his old man had done. "You like kids?" He grinned. "That's not a trick question." He waved her off and she tried her best to forget the lingering guilt. Silly, she knew, to feel guilty over someone she’d never met, but Angie was somewhat of an old hand at guilt over dead women. Him teasing about her appetite helped shifted her attention, and she mock scowled at him over the rim of her glass. “What can I say? I’ve got a weakness. Try not to exploit it.” And talk of his daughter changed the mood completely. He beamed. It was hard not to beam back. “She sounds adorable, Sid. Not surprising, considering her dad.” Listening to him speak about her showed a side of him that was so unexpected and yet so completely at ease with the Sid she knew. As shocking of a bombshell as it had been, she wasn’t surprised that he was a doting father. She laughed as he turned his question back on her. “Sure it’s not,” she teased as she took another sip of her wine. “I like kids, what little experience I’ve had with them. I’m that weirdo who likes to slyly make funny faces at them in the grocery line. Other than that and the occasional day where someone brings their baby into the office, I don’t really see many kids anymore.” Not that she’d be opposed to, but she left that instead. They were busy people and she was his only daughter. She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to bring Zoe around just anyone. "Sweetheart, you can't tell a man you have a weakness and not expect him to exploit it, especially if he's interested," he told her, sitting back long enough to let their meals get set on the table, before sitting forward again. He crowded the table, elbows on the edge and an indication he never had a mother to teach him anything about not eating like he was starving. He was big now, thick and well-fed, but hunger never completely left, and there was part of him that was still that kid going hungry in a dingy motel room and making sad eyes at his older brother for the last bowl of cereal. He didn't shovel food in his mouth; he'd stopped that years back, but he still sat too close, and he didn't set his fork down often. "You can meet her, when I show you off at the station," he said, an easy grin and no worries about having her around Zoe. He'd known Angie long enough that one summer that he wasn't worried about her being in cahoots with Lucien, and Zoe needed more women in her life. "I'm warning you in advance, she's not that great at conversation." He took a sip of his beer. "You want any of your own, or too soon to be thinking about that kind of thing?" He wasn't sure he saw her as maternal, but he didn't really know what maternal looked like, not outside of Anne. And Anne had been stay at home and submission in a way Angie wasn't. Angie was museums and interesting conversation. She was Jenny, and he didn't want to think about the fact that she hadn't caught fire yet because he'd stayed away from her. Things would turn out different this time, he promised himself. No one else was dying on his watch. Unlike him, Angie’s table manners were impeccable, her step mother made sure of that. But it was tempered by an absolute love of food, each bite savored a little more heartily and happily than polite. Blame her mother for that one. “Interested enough to exploit my love of a good dinner, hmm?” Though she eyed him with almost cartoonish suspicion, in truth she was more than a little pleased by this. Even if it might have been just teasing. It had been too long since she’d been out on a good date and even longer since she’d been out someone who interested her enough to try. “I’d say I’m wary but if we’re talking about good meals here, I’m going to be helpless to resist.” There was a momentary and unabashed look of glee that crossed her face at the prospect of seeing his daughter that she quickly schooled back into something more polite. Maternal side? Sure, but she’d always been quick to hide it, always figuring a date wouldn’t exactly respond well to thoughts of children. That meant talk of marriage and of sex and, well, Angie also stayed clear of such talk until the moment was right. It was hardly her fault that the moment was never right. “Is it really too soon now that we’re not getting any younger?” Marriage and children were always on the To Do list, but with the recent changes in her home life, and then with her work, the matters always changed in priority. Life was short, but there was much work to be done. Settling down wasn’t out of the question but finding time to date was certainly harder than it used to be. “Maybe. It’s definitely not off the table.” She ate another piece of her steak as she mused quietly. “I’d love a little family of mine own. I just haven’t had a relationship get that far, you know?” She couldn’t even find someone to have sex with, let alone to settle down with. She nearly laughed at the thought and took another drink of her wine. "Your love of a good dinner is a real selling point," he said, grin and dimples and the kind of easy manner that was dangerous. "See, I'm sneaky. You got to keep an eye on me," he cautioned jokingly. And he was enjoying this. No one was dying, and there weren't any drugs anywhere. No fires, no drunk brother to worry about fixing, and no baby crying that he couldn't soothe. He savored his steak, and the he enjoyed the quality beer, and he thought he needed to do this more often. It was easy to get lost in rescuing other people, and he'd always been shit at rescuing himself. He chuckled at the expression that crossed her features at the possibility of meeting Zoe, and if anything was going to finish off relaxing him, that was it. "I never thought I wanted any kids," he admitted, willing to talk about it, since she hadn't give him a look that told him the subject was a bad one. "Hell, I don't know the last thing about raising anyone. I can barely take care of myself most days. But, here I am." He shrugged broad shoulders, and he pushed his empty plate aside and concentrated on what was left of his beer. He looked at her more carefully when she said she hadn't had a relationship get that far. "I don't buy that, Angie. You're gorgeous, sweet, intelligent. What the hell more could a man want?" he asked, and his expression said he was serious. She wasn't the kind of woman Drake gravitated toward, sure. He doubted she'd ever had sex behind a bar, and he doubted she'd ever driven a motorcycle or juggled jello shots with her tits, but she was beautiful and smarter than she had a right to be. He had trouble believing no one had seen that and tried to snatch it up in the past few years. "You're not seeing anyone?" he asked, disbelief and curiosity combined. “Keep an eye on you?” She laughed as she polished off the last bits of her meal and sipped her wine. “But I’m enjoying this. Good food and great company?” She sighed happily as she slipped her plate to the side. “If this is what I get for letting you be sneaky then by all means.” She trailed off with a wave of her hand holding her wine glass before taking another drink. His compliments made her flush softly and she couldn’t help the smile that graced her face. Her handsome ex-boyfriend extolling her virtues? She was going to soak it all up. But the questions made her blush deepen, knowing where this was leading to. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed, per se, at least that what was she told herself, her pink cheeks be damned. “No, still single. It’s just....” She mentally weighed her options, her head bobbing side to side slightly as she debated just confessing. They had, after all, dated before. Explaining why she let it be just a summer fling, no commitment, no expectations, nothing more than days out and nights on the town, should be easy, right? “I’m old fashioned, Sid” she said delicately, her smile turning abashed even as she chuckled at herself. “I tend to look for something serious. That usually throws most men off who want something... easy.” Mentally she could have kicked herself for basically confessing that she needed a ring on her finger , or at least the prospect of one, to do anything but he asked. And that would probably be the end of it. "Letting me be sneaky?" he asked, false outrage and good humor. "Just like a woman." And it was obvious he liked that about her. He'd been shy once, awkward and spent all his time watching his older brother for cues about how to be with girls. But those days were in the rearview, and he was easy with women these days. He draped an arm along the back of the chair beside him, and he watched her wave the hand holding the wine glass. It'd been a long time since he'd been with a woman like this. Dating wasn't exactly practical when you were suspected of murdering your wife, and staying squeaky clean had been important in New York. Until that moment, Sid hadn't realized there were women who didn't have sex after a date or two. He hadn't come to eat with her in order to get her in his bed, but he wouldn't have turned down any sign of interest in that department. But he wasn't going to demand the check and disappear because of her unexpected sense of morals. When they'd dated, he hadn't pushed, and he hadn't pushed for a reason. Too like Jenny, too dangerous, and he could smell something permanent on her, maybe, even then. And she was too good for him. That was plain as the nose on his face. He looked at her, realizing what she was telling him, and he wondered what she'd think of his life. His real life. Not Jenny. Not Anne. No, Cee and dingy motels and sex that could only be called fucking, bruises as proof and old needles littering the nightstands. He wondered what she'd think if she knew he was looking forward to killing a man, and maybe he was looking forward to it more than he was to getting any woman in bed. He looked a minute longer, then he broke out into that dimpled grin. "Trying to run me off?" he asked, unbothered as the check came, and he stole it before she could get her hands on it. Angie let the seconds tick by in silence patiently, and when he spoke she nearly let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. Rejection was one thing but clinging to nearly archaic notions of romance tended to confuse and put off just about everyone, not just potential boyfriends. If he didn’t want to wait around for her, that was fine. If he thought she was absolutely crazy, that was another thing. But, as usual, Sid was one of the good guys. “No, just –Hey!” Too good, it seemed, from the way he snatched up the check, leaving her leaning across the table, her hands grabbing nothing. She regarded him archly before wrinkling her nose in mock annoyance and settling back into her seat. “That’s not fair, distracting me with confessions. For all my old fashioned notions, I’m fine splitting the check.” Though the way she couldn’t wipe the smirk off her face, it was clear she didn’t mind his gesture. Always was a gentleman. He almost chuckled when she quit holding that breath. And it was a good thing he didn't know she had categorized him as a good anything. Sid had a smile on him, and he could be as sweet as cheap store cola, but he wasn't good. He didn't know her well enough yet to realize she equated surface good with real good, but he wouldn't have been surprised to learn it. He grinned, and he laughed when she grabbed for the check too slowly. His wallet was in his hand within a second, and he put down enough cash to cover tip and meal, and he kept it close to his side of the table, in case the mogul business owner got any ideas. There were a lot of old fashioned things about Sid Wallace, and maybe this was one of them. "Your fault for letting yourself be distracted," he teased, sliding out of his chair and walking to her side of the table. "Come on, sweetheart," said, hand out and reaching for her fingers. See, old fashioned worked for him. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, gentleman chaste and dimples that said he was enjoying the game. "After you." She huffed at the teasing but when he offered his hand she took it with a smile, curling her arms around his as he kissed her cheek. “A girl could get used to this,” Angie sighed as she lead them out of the restaurant. |