The Coward Meets Mr. Perfect (Meeting the Misters Book 1)

(48) Taking Me to Le Belle

I'm thinking a triple update...how about it?

Chapter 48

Daniel drove up to the curb near a fancy looking place. There was a burgundy canopy that led from the sidewalk up to the glass doors down the walkway. Mimicked candelabras lined the walkway. And a man dressed in an expensive looking tuxedo approached the driver’s side of the car.

My mouth hung open. “Where is this place?”

Daniel didn’t answer. He got out and the man handed him a piece of paper.

I was so intent on watching what was going on with Daniel that I was surprised when someone opened the door on my side. I jumped and looked up to see another tuxedo-wearing guy standing there, but off to the side.

Daniel came around and held out his hand. I took it and stepped out. I almost tripped, but thanks to Daniel’s secure arm around my waist, I didn’t fall. I looked back to see the guy disappearing into Daniel’s car. Valet? “Will you tell me where this is?” I whispered.

“I’ve told you once before, you ask entirely way too many questions.”

I frowned at him.

He sighed. “Fine. This is a fancy restaurant.”

“Huh?”

“Have you ever heard of Le Belle?” He asked.

My eyes widened. “Of course I have!” I gasped. “This ... this is place where one dish costs fifty dollars?”

Daniel just turned from me to the clerk. “Table for two?” She asked politely.

Daniel nodded. “And ... a more quiet table ... please.” Daniel said.

The clerk nodded and turned away for a quick moment before she led us to our seats. “What would drinks would you guys like to start off with?”

“Water.” I said right away. Did they charge for water? I wondered. It was probably fifteen dollars for a cup...

Daniel turned to me. “Have you ever tried Champagne?”

“Ch-ch ... the a-alcohol champagne?” I whispered.

“No, the juice.” He sarcastically answered.

“No I haven’t-”

“A bottle of 1990 Pol Roger Brut.” Daniel didn’t even look at the menu to order. Which meant he was used to ordering champagne. I wonder how long he’s been underaged drinking.

The clerk lady gave an elegant small bow and left.

“A-alcohol?” I asked.

Daniel smirked. “If you keep stuttering like that, you’re going to start sounding like that song. A-A-alcohol.”

I pouted. “Not funny.”

Soon enough a young man came dressed nicely in a white collared shirt with a tie and a vest over it, and a half apron that tied around his waist. He was rolling up a cart which held the bottle of champagne laying in a bed of ice in a pail. He produced two champagne flutes from the second shelf of the cart and set them in front of us.

After he poured each of our drinks, he retreated.

Daniel reached for his and took a small sip before setting it down again.

I stared at mine. Was I really going to drink alcohol for the first time in my life? I knew I shouldn’t I really knew I shouldn’t. But curiosity was really making me stare at the glass with light yellow colored liquid, bubbles rising to the top. It looked a little like mountain dew, but less greenish.