Discarded by R Gaston

Author:R Gaston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: insecurity, amnesia thrillers, violence and abuse, fear of men

17.

Karen, with her elbow on her desk, and her head propped in her hand, cradled the phone against her cheek, “Donald I don’t think this is a good idea.” She picked up a pencil with her other hand, turned it over and tapped the eraser on the desk. She flipped the pencil and impatiently tapped the lead before she put it down. His pleading had become a mosquito drone, annoying, empty, and scarcely registering.

She set up and took the phone from her ear. This is ridiculous. It’s like trying to communicate on phones with only the microphone working. “Donald, I can’t hear you because we’re both talking at the same time.”

Before she could hang up, He said, “It’s really important to me, Karen. It’s very important to both of us. Please meet me for lunch. We need to talk.”

“What’s so urgent?” She said. “I’m working and my day is planned. Henry is at the garage for an oil change and then…” Her fingers found a strand of hair at the nape of her neck and wound and then unwound it as Donald kept talking.

“All right, as long as you understand this is not a date.” She released the hair and replaced the phone in its cradle. I can’t imagine what he wants but this will give me a chance to get his professional opinion about last night’s fiasco.

Donald was seated when she entered the restaurant. He stood, met her half way, and escorted her to the table.

“This is nice,” she said as he held her chair.

“Glad you approve. I had to bribe the hostess to reserve a table with a view of the lake and marina.” He glanced at his unusual D shaped French watch and frowned. “You’re late.”

Must you always be critical? “Sorry, but Lake Ray Hubbard is a long way from the studio and traffic...”

“Of course.”

She picked up a napkin, placed it on her lap, and opened the menu.

“I’ve ordered for both of us,” Donald said.

“Oh?” Of course you did.

A young waitress materialized at their table. “May I take your drink order?”

“Yes. Bring us a bottle of Jordan Cabernet, opened so it can breathe.”

She smiled. “That is a very nice choice, sir.”

“Donald, a glass is all I want. I have to work.”

“Work is such a dreary pastime. Your little show is hours away.”

“My little show? She smiled to hide her annoyance. “Henry is waiting.”

“Take the afternoon off.”

“What?” His patrician face had assumed that serious regal expression that she once found charming. “I can’t. I’d be fired.”

The waitress reappeared, placed a bucket by the table, and removed the wine bottle from the ice. She lifted a towel from her arm, wrapped it around the bottle, and artfully flipped a silver corkscrew through the air before inserting it in the cork. She popped the cork and offered it to Donald to sniff.

His hand shot up palm out halting the presentation. “Girl,” his voice was glacial. “Red wine is never served cold.”

“I’m sorry sir.” The waitress tried to hide her apparent embarrassment behind a smile.

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