Booth Three

12

Diego's car pulls into the street, standing out from all the taxi's parked on the side of the road. His windows are so tinted, all I can see is his silhouette, but it's more than enough to tell me it's him. I must look so stupid right now. The wind is blowing my hair all the way backwards and I'm looking directly into the sun, forcing my eyes to squint almost entirely shut.

I was surprised he wasn't already waiting outside for me by the time I'd finished up. Once my shift ended, I redid my hair and makeup and got changed. By the time I got outside, it was at least 10 minutes past five.

I glance down at the floor, trying not to look too awkward out here on my own. It takes a few more seconds, but then he finally pulls over in front of me. I walk towards his car, trying not to appear too excited. In the meantime, he steps out of the car, and meet me halfway, a sweet smile on his face.

"Sorry I'm late," he opens the door for me. "I tried to leave early but I got stuck in a meeting."

"That's fine," I step inside. "I wasn't on time, either."

"No? Your boss kept you late?"

"Nah, I just had to make myself look date-ready," I laugh.

"Well, that's a waste of time. You could wear a trash bag and still look incredible."

"You're sweet."

"I try," he shuts the door and walks back around to the driver's seat. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yep,"  I nod. "As long as we don't go too far away."

"Nope, we're staying nearby," he pulls back onto the road. "I mean it, by the way. You look good."

"Thank you," I smile. I actually put effort into my appearance today. "You look good, too."

"Those lucky boxers are really pulling their weight today, huh?"

"Oh, for sure."

He looks over at me teasingly. He really does look good. Not as good as he did with his tired eyes, wearing just his undershirt, but still good. He smells good, too — like wood and mint and something else I can't put my finger on. It's enticing. He probably wears Tom Ford cologne or some other luxury brand I haven't even heard of. His entire outfit is probably the price of an entire car.

"I'm glad you could make it," he says. "I wasn't too sure, you know... with the kids and everything."

"Oh, it's fine. Karla's always happy to watch them."

"That's nice of her."

"Well, Hayley's technically her niece, so I think she's just glad she didn't get custody."

"She's Hayley's aunt? How did that work out?"

"They were roommates — my sister and her brother," I explain. "He skipped town before my sister knew she was pregnant, and when we tried to find him, we found Karla instead."

"Damn, that's, uh..."

"Messy?" I laugh.

"Well, I was going to say interesting, but sure," he chuckles. "I'm guessing Penny has a different father then?"

"Yeah, I don't know who he is. My sister wasn't really involved with the best people."

"Has it always been just the two of you?"

"For a long time, yeah. My dad died when I was a baby, and my mum when I was 17."

"That must've been hard."

"It's not that bad," I shrug. Things weren't exactly good when my mum was around, either. She was just as preoccupied with drugs as my sister. "I'm happier now with the girls than I was when my mum and sister were still around."

"Still," he says. "I'm sorry you had to deal with all that shit."

"It's okay," I assure him. We all have shit to deal with. Our conversation falls flat for a moment, but it's not uncomfortable. Both of us are just... thinking.

"So," he continues. "Can I ask why Karla doesn't have custody of Hayley?"

"Oh, she's too young," I tell him. "She was only 19 when my sister left, and I was 24, so I figured it would be best."

"Damn," he raises his brows. "I know I've said it before, but that's so impressive."

"You would've done the same thing."

"When I was 24? I mean... probably, but I would've been pissed about it."

"Well, I'm not always happy about it, either," I laugh. But I'd rather keep the girls with me than have them suffer in the foster care system. Besides, what else would I be doing with my life? I still wouldn't have saved enough money to go pay for college. "How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm 29," he says. "I'll turn 30 in a few months."

"Oh, 30, huh?" I tease. "You're old."

"Only three years older than you."

"Hey, I'm still closer to 25 than I am to 30."

"For now," he laughs. And there's no point denying it. Even if I go to college now, I won't graduate until I'm 30. I might just be better off sticking to waitressing until an opportunity opens up in the kitchen.

I shake my head. I don't want to think about this. I want to kick back and have fun tonight, with no stress.

"So, are you going to tell me what we're doing or are you going to keep me in the dark?" I change the subject.

"We're actually here already," he says.

"Really?" I glance out the window. We've only been in the car for five or ten minutes, and it's evident by our location. We've been heading south, past the Empire State Building and towards New York University. I can see Washington Square Park down the road. By the looks of it, we're in Greenwich Village. Diego pulls over, parking outside a row of high rise buildings. I spot a few restaurants, but I can't figure out which one e could be going to.

"I'll be right back," he hops out of the car. I follow him with my eyes, but he just walks over to my side and opens the door. Slick move. "Shall we?"

"How chivalrous," I joke.

"What can I say? I'm a gentleman," he laughs. I take the hand he offers me and step down from the car. Rather than letting go, he intertwines our fingers. A warm feeling spreads through my chest. I like this.

"Where are we going?" I ask him.

"Right here," he motions towards the nearest building and leads me through the entryway. It's not a restaurant, though. It looks like an office or many a hotel, but there's no one around. The place is decorated in white stone, with grey details. There's a receptionist desk at the entrance, but we walk right past it. He presses the button of the elevator.

"Is this your place or something?"

"Nah, I live a little further south."

"So, where are we?"

"Well, I know you said you liked cooking so at first, I thought we could take a cooking class or something, but then I thought of something better."

"What is it?"

"You'll see."