"Considering I couldn't even wait twelve hours, I don't think it's strange at all," I said. Just then, Mark's cell phone rang, and he gave me an apologetic look. "Go ahead, I'm sure it's important."
"It is," he said before taking out his phone. "The only people who have this number are my work clients...... and you. Excuse me."
He slid out of the booth, heading outside to take his call while I considered his words. I was interrupted when the waitress, a pretty young mixed Thai and black girl who was in high school and helped out at her father's restaurants after classes, dropped off the check. "Here you are. I hope you two had a good meal."
"It was great as always, Helen," I said, using the girl's American name. She had a Thai name too, but I kept forgetting it. "And it was a great meal."
Helen walked back behind the counter to do some of her homework, and I looked out at Mark, who closed his phone and came back inside. "Everything okay?" I asked, picking up the check.
Mark grinned and took my wrist in a feather light yet strong grip, and pulled the check from my hands with two fingers. "Now, how would I feel as a Southern gentleman if I didn't pay on our first date?" he said with a smile. I could feel the blush all the way to the roots of my hair, and he stroked my cheek with the back of the first two fingers on his right hand. "Don't be shy, even if it is massively cute. And don't think this is a knock on your student status and income level. Tell you what, I'll make sure to get us reservations at Le Blanc for our next one, just to make us even."
I laughed at his joke, since Le Blanc is infamous for being the most expensive restaurant in the city. "Do that, and I'll have to move out of my apartment to pay for it," I said. "Then where would I stay?"
"Don't know," he replied, before leaning in to whisper in my ear. "I think I have an idea though."
His hand came around to my lower back, pulling me in close to him, and he cupped the back of my head before kissing me. His lips caressed mine, and I threw my arms around his back, clinging to him while our kiss grew hotter and more passionate, only stopping when Helen discreetly tapped the register bell behind us. Mark pulled back with a soft chuckle, and I took a few moments to catch my breath before also laughing. "I'd never be able to bring you by the tavern," I joked. "I'd never get any work done."
"Well, I'm sure some day the bloom will be off this romance, and we'll be able to at least go a couple of hours without kissing or trying to take each other's clothes off," Mark said, holding the bill and stepping back. "But for now, let's pay this and get out of here. We've both got work to do tonight."
Chapter 9
Mark
I watched Sophie drive away from the parking lot of the strip mall where the Thai restaurant was located before heading down the street. I could have called for a cab, but I didn't want my movements to be tracked. Instead, I headed to my business meeting at a local boxing club in the Warehouse District a few miles away.
The walk was good, it helped me think about my work. Besides, even with my reputation, there was no way I'd bring my Mercedes anywhere near the Warehouse District. If Sophie thought her North Side apartment was in a bad neighborhood, she'd never spent any serious time in the Warehouse District. It was the sort of neighborhood where you didn't show any signs of wealth unless you wanted to be robbed, and you made sure to wear very specific neutral colors.
Arriving at the Warehouse District, I thought of the strange skills I'd picked up over the years. I found the boxing gym and went inside, taking a moment to watch the mid afternoon crowd of boxers training. They were a unique group, most of them journeymen who were trying to sharpen up before their next paycheck taking an asswhipping from some prospect, or perhaps dreaming of getting that attention grabbing knockout.
The place was anything but glamorous, with old bags hanging from the rafters wrapped in layer after layer of duct tape, to the point that you couldn't tell if the bag was really intact any longer, or if the guy was just punching a giant column of tape. It made Mickey's gym from the Rocky movies look shiny and well maintained, but it still put out some of the best boxers and MMA fighters in the area.
My client was the reason why. He was sitting on one of the benches that surrounded the fenced octagon cage in the corner. A great trainer, he was also an astute businessman, who knew both the good and the bad side of how to work contracts and fights in a sport where, if you dug hard enough, you tended to find lots of Sicilian names in positions of power, although there were also lots of Russians, Latins, and others in certain areas.
"Hey Greg," I said, sitting down on the bench next to him. "How can I help you out today?"
"Nothing too serious," Greg replied, his eyes never leaving the cage. "Kid up there has a fight coming up in a month. His opponent is pretty dangerous, and the odds right now are not in our favor."