*Robbie*
They walked together to the restaurant. The hallway was crowded with people, chatting groups waiting to get inside. Fortunately for them, Leesie spotted them and came to rescue them from the line. Robbie hardly recognized her out of her uniform. She wore a small, strapless baby blue dress and heels. Her hair was loose and curling around her face, and she was wearing makeup. "Hi!" she said with a bright smile as she got close to them. "Nice crowd, isn't it?"
"What did I tell you?" Jane replied smugly. "Did you save us seats?"
"Yes, Alex can show you." She motioned to one of the hosts hovering at the door like brightly-dressed moths. A smiling young man stepped forward. "Jane, we'll be right in." She turned back to Robbie. "I got a call from Wyl a couple hours ago. He got some emergency project dumped on him in the shop, and he isn't sure when he's going to be done with it. He said you shouldn't worry about it."
Robbie frowned. "Is he going to make it here at all?"
"He didn't think so." Leesie looked like she wanted to say something else, but then her expression cleared. "I'm sure if he can get here he will. Come on inside, the first course is ready to go."
Robbie followed her through the press of people into the restaurant. The lighting was low, promoting intimacy. He wished he had someone here to be intimate with. The table was next to the wall, with only three seats. He sat down next to Leesie and Jane. "T can't join us?"
"Please," Leesie chided, shaking her head. "He won't be sitting down for the next twenty-four hours. He's a workaholic, almost as bad as you." She smiled playfully at Robbie.
"I guess I'm not as bad as Wyl," Robbie said wryly. "I'm going to call him."
Jane laughed. "Good luck getting him to hear anything in this crowd."
Robbie activated his comm. "Wyl Leyton." The comm buzzed. It kept buzzing. Robbie deactivated the call after thirty seconds. "He must be really busy."
"He did say it was an emergency."
The first course came, carried by a friendly, harried waiter. Jane bought Robbie a drink he didn't need, but he sipped at it anyway. "What is this?"
"Jazmian Tears."
"It tastes a little like scotch."
"What's scotch?" she asked.
"An old, old drink. You can get it still, on some of the central planets."
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
"Your parents are Earthlings, right?" Jane grinned. "Do they drink scotch?"
"They used to."
"Ha! Did they see the light and move beyond mere Earth drinks?"
Robbie shook his head. "They never got around to it. Cryo casualties. Their unit lost power in the transfer. My grandparents still live on Mars, though, and they love scotch."
"Wow." Jane blinked. "That really, really sucks. I think you might have officially killed the mood. Thanks, boss man."
"It was a long time ago." Robbie sipped the drink again. "This is actually pretty good." The next course came, and they were spared from too much discomfort by preoccupation with eating. Robbie tried Wyl again, but again no answer.
Jane and Leesie chatted, waiters came and went, the restaurant was packed to the brim, but it seemed to Robbie like he could barely hear any of it. He ate, responded when he was asked something, and complimented T on the food when he managed to escape from the kitchen for a moment. His mind was firmly elsewhere, though. He thought about the job offer, he thought about his work, he even thought about his parents, which he hadn't really done for years. Mostly he thought about Wyl.
He tried one more time to reach him, letting the comm buzz and buzz. Why wasn't he picking up? Jane tapped his shoulder. "You're going to miss the show!"
Robbie turned in his chair and watched a waiter holding a silver ladle in one hand and a spiral-sliced orange peel in the other dip the ladle into a circle of flame wreathing a large silver bowl. The mixture in the ladle caught on fire and the waiter poured it into the bowl, setting its contents ablaze as well. Quickly he spooned the flaming liquid up and poured it down the orange peel. The strong, sweet scents of citrus, coffee, and alcohol filled the room.
"Now that is an old Earth drink," Jane said appreciatively. "Café brûlot, made with brandy. I've only had it once before."
"It's T's specialty," Leesie said, her eyes never leaving the flames. "He made it for me on our second date. He nearly burned off all the hair on one arm doing it." She smiled at the reminiscence. "He's gotten a lot better since then. He spent days training the staff for this."
Cups were being filled and brought to tables. Robbie tried to refuse, but Leesie insisted this time. "You've never had anything like it before," she promised. Robbie caved and took a drink. The liquid was thick and very sweet, the coffee flavor offset by cloves and lemon and still-strong brandy. He swallowed. "Isn't the fire supposed to burn away the alcohol?"
"It would if it was traditional brandy." Leesie blushed a little. "T decided to go with something a little more potent for the opening. It's less strong now than if he hadn't lit it on fire at all, but there's still some alcohol in it."
"Absolutely delicious," Jane purred. "I could die happy now."
They sat and sipped and mingled. Jane was popular despite her status as a marshal and everyone wanted to congratulate Leesie on the obvious success of the opening. Robbie sat and drank a while longer before eventually realizing that he was drinking too much. His head felt fuzzy, and he couldn't concentrate.
"I have to get going," he said to Jane in a rare quiet moment.
"Why, your man call you?"
"No." Unfortunately. His comm had remained silent, and Robbie wasn't going to try calling again tonight. "I just need to get out of this crowd, and I want to be home when Wyl gets there."
"Have a good evening." Impulsively Jane took one of his hands. "Talk to Wyl. Get everything you want to say out in the open and let him help you decide. You'll feel better."
"I will." Years of training helped Robbie keep his balance as he maneuvered through the crowd, and an ingrained respect of other's privacy kept him from going and bugging Wyl in the shop. He got home, got cleaned up and then, with a weariness that surprised him, got into bed. He picked up an antique paperback romance and started reading, but he couldn't stay focused. The drinks muddled his thoughts, and he was anxious and tired. He put the book down and lowered the lights, then stared at the blank ceiling for a while. Finally he slept.