Where The Numinous Awaits

Ch. 25: Nixie's Dinner Date

September 2 | Night

Fitz eased on the brakes in front of a two-story building. The president had chosen an upscale restaurant in Jackson Square. White cornices set off the orange-red bricks, along with wrought iron balustrades and hanging baskets lush with greenery. Arched windows wrapped around the place, and the front doors were uniquely diagonal on the corner lot.

With a chauffeur's cap low on his forehead to hide his face, my best friend moved around to my side of the vehicle and let me out. "I'll be right behind you," Fitz whispered. Nodding, I scoped the scene. The sidewalks were thick with pedestrians, many of whom stopped to see if they knew who I was. I felt like a celebrity, but I was royalty, and it was dangerous for me to be out alone, not knowing who in the crowd might be part of the smugglers ring.

A tiny smile graced my lips as someone rushed to open the restaurant doors for me. "Thank you," I murmured. I quickly entered the establishment with my head held high, capturing more attention than I cared for. The jitteriness that I felt didn't show until the Maitre D' indicated there was a private room where the president of the Council of Overlay Affairs was waiting for me. A private room? Panic set in.

"Fitz," I whispered as the Maitre D' led me away.

"Entering now," he spoke through my earpiece.

"You won't be able to see me. Private room," I said in a rush. The Maitre D' looked back at me in askance, and I shook my head and smiled, faking a ladylike cough. He turned away. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw Fitz hurrying into the restaurant, his escort on his arm. He looked dismayed as he watched me get taken farther and farther from him.

Bistro tables bracketed the narrow walkway, and tall windows topped by suspended foliage added to the claustrophobic flair. I was ushered past a brick room with red velvet drapes and antique settees and chairs. Fitz was rapidly left behind, and I lost sight of him. Neither of us had anticipated being separated, but I squared my shoulders and lifted my head higher. It was time to put my money where my mouth was. I would have to take care of myself.

Closer to the private room, I noticed the president's security, burly men with flat, expressionless faces and ill-fitting suits. I considered taking a nausea tablet and pretending to be sick. However, I told myself that I could handle a simple dinner. The Maitre D' inclined his head as we arrived at our destination. I nervously stared at the dark wood door in front of me, beyond which was a courtyard with a single table set for two.

President Distefano rose to his feet. "Princess Fontenot," he grinned. He was a robust man of middling height with a thatch of silver streaked, balding black hair falling over his ruddy face. He wore a Southern politician's garb—a powder blue three-piece with shiny cream wingtips and a fedora on the table beside his water glass. He affected a bow at my entrance.

With a final glance backward before the door shut behind me, I prayed that Fitz had somehow managed to follow us for long enough to know where I was. Then I plastered on a smile and put Edwina's etiquette training to proper use.

"Good evening, Mr. President. It's such an honor to join you."

Beaming, Distefano offered a menu. "Shall we get started?"

"At your convenience," I murmured.

We made polite small talk while we waited for our meal to be served, and I tried to glean what I could about the man who sat across from me. I ordered filet mignon, like Legend had jokingly suggested I would, and as I picked at the prime cut beef and celery root puree once it came, I pondered the president's choice of andouille crusted redfish. Was he trying to send a message? Eating seafood with a known mermaid seemed in poor taste. I sipped my wine.