Sunday, July 17, 2011


Tate opened the restaurant door and followed Mario inside. The host greeted them, nodding when Tate gave his name then ushered them to one of the candlelit tables, this one in a small nook off to the side of the main room.

“You really are trying to impress me,” Mario said a few minutes later as the waiter poured their wine once Tate had deemed it acceptable.

“Is it working?”

Mario took a sip of his wine before he replied. “In its own way, yes, although you didn’t have to go to this extreme. I’m really more of a fast-food type of guy.”

Tate quirked an eyebrow. “I suspect that’s by necessity, not choice.”

“Yeah, I’ll admit to that.” Mario twisted the stem of his glass between his fingers while he looked around the restaurant. “This is nice.”

Tate was very tempted to reply, ‘Not as nice as the man sitting across from me,’ but took the prudent course and just said, “Yes it is. The people here have a way of making you feel welcome and special, even,” he chuckled with a nod to a couple just being seated, “if you’re in jeans.”

“I’m not much better dressed than them.” Mario glanced down at his white shirt and dark slacks, both of which had seen better days even if they were still clean despite his having worked in them all day.

“You look just fine. I might even say perfect.”

“Not hardly.” Mario retorted, but his face lit up in a smile at the compliment.

Tate took a drink of his wine, happy to see that smile, then said, “Perhaps we should decide what we want?”

‘You,’ flashed through Mario’s mind and he almost said it aloud. He could feel the heat as he turned red and hoped in the dim light Tate hadn’t noticed. Quickly he picked up the menu. He swallowed hard when he saw the prices and searched for something that wouldn’t empty Tate’s bank account.

Tate watched with amusement. He didn’t know what had made Mario flush bright red but he did understand the sudden gulp when the younger man looked at the menu. Now he just had to figure out how to get him to order what he really wanted rather than the cheapest meal. “Are you more a steak man, or a fish lover?” he asked for starters. “Personally I’d take a good thick steak over anything else in the world, given my druthers.”

Mario chuckled. “The last time I had steak was, I think, at a barbeque at Maria’s and that was last summer. Fish I can take or leave alone.”

“So no shrimp cocktail for starters?” When Mario shuddered Tate laughed. “I’d say more leave alone than take from that reaction. Tell you what, since I’ve been here and know what’s good, why don’t I order for both of us.”

Mario’s mouth tightened. “I’m quite capable of making my own decisions.”

“Whoa,” Tate said softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

After he’d taken a deep breath Mario replied with downcast eyes, “No, I’m sorry. It’s just that the few times Jonah took me out he always did that, like I was some kid who didn’t have enough sense to know what I should have.”

“I understand completely. Believe me I don’t think that about you, not at all. I would however recommend the fillet mignon, that’s what I’m having.”

Mario nodded then essayed a small smile. “At least you didn’t say the Porterhouse. I mean come on, fifty three dollars? It’s just meat.”

Tate laughed. “Now on that I’d agree, so the fillet, and how about the baked potatoes with garlic and parmesan? Do you like asparagus?” When Mario shuddered Tate said, “Guess not. The green beans are good the way they do them.”

“Those I could handle,” Mario admitted. “Asparagus is just, as Wil says, ‘Yucky’.”  

Tate smiled as he waved their waiter over. He placed their orders, taking asparagus for himself and added cheese fondue for the appetizer once he’d checked with Mario to be certain that was agreeable with him.

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