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The restaurant looms over her, lit up with golden hues and dramatic lighting. She takes a calming breath, looks over her bag one more time. Phone, wallet, taser. Five minutes ago, she received a text from her date saying he made it and is excited to see her
She gives herself one more boost of confidence, before opening the giant doors to the restaurant. She enters a dimly lit area, a stark contrast to the outside. Here, most of the light comes from candles and low hanging lights, dimmed to offer guests a sense of seclusion, of being in their own little world.
The woman at the front asks for a name, and she says her date’s. She smiles at her and leads her through the restaurant, moving toward the back corner.
Her date sees her coming and shakes his too blonde hair out of his too brown eyes. He smiles at her, lips stretching pencil thin. He stands from the table when she walks toward it, out of respect, and he towers over her.
"Hi, so glad you can make it," he says, all nervous energy and puppy dog eyes. She smiles back wanly, and they both settle down at the table. The woman who led her to the table smiles and says she hopes they enjoy their night and is on her way.
"It's finally happening," she agrees good naturedly. There are already two glasses of water on the table, and she takes a sip. He follows her move, drinking. She sees the way his hand shakes as he grasps the glass, just a bit. He’s nervous. The thought warms her.
She looks over the menu, ignoring the way she can feel his stare on her. She skims over the dishes, barely paying much attention to the items. She’s already looked up what she was getting beforehand.
"So, how are you liking Los Angeles?" he asks, and she gives him points for remembering details from her profile.
She looks up from her small barrier toward him, replying, “It's different from Miami in some ways. I miss the warm beaches for one.” He stares at her with rapt attention, taking in everything she says. She finds it sweet. "But it has it's own charms. I like it more than I thought I would,” she finishes.
He grins at her assessment, saying, "I’ve never known anything other than California. Living here is the dream. I’m sure you'll come to love it."
But before they can continue, a waiter in all black saddles up to their table, a pen and booklet in hand. He grins down at them. She can’t see much of his features. The lighting in the restaurant focuses on patrons seeing one another, while the workers move in quiet invisibility around them.
“Welcome to Berberries! I’ll be your server for tonight. Can I start you all on some appetizers?”
It takes 20 minutes for their meals to be brought out. She counts down the minutes obsessively and hopes that it’s not obvious.
15 minutes before their food arrives, a bottle of red wine is sent to their table. She thinks he’s ordered it before she had arrived, but he stares at the waiter, confusion marring his face so delicately. She thinks he’d never be able to keep a lie from her.
“We didn’t order this,” her date explains. She looks over the label of the bottle. She doesn’t know much about wine, but it looks expensive.
“An anonymous gentleman bought the bottle for you two. He wishes you two well on your blossoming romance,” the waiter explains as he uncorks the bottle and pours each of them a glass wine so dark it could be constituted as black.
“Oh, tell him thanks!” her date replies, grinning at the waiter. The server nods, but before he goes, sends a wink toward her. Something inside her freezes and cracks.
He looks at her with wide eyes, his surprise clear. “Can you believe that? We already have people rooting for us,” he jokes, and she nods, smiles.
“It’s definitely unexpected,” she murmurs, staring at the glass in front of her. Her mind races as she tries to keep calm.
He takes a sip of the wine. His eyes widen. He looks at her with a gleam in his eyes, brown eyes positively sparkling. “This is quite possibly the best wine I’ve ever had. You have to try it,” he urges, and she does. She takes the glass by the stem, hoping that her own shaking hands aren’t noticeable, and drinks. It tastes divine.
The gifted wine sets off their conversation, her date explaining different wineries and vineyards he’s been to in California. The best, the worst, the mediocre. He seems to not mind her quietness.
“I’ll have to take you to this one vineyard in Napa Valley. It’s absolutely beautiful up there,” he sighs, and she thinks of this kind of future. A future with a man who would want to take her to beautiful places.
The food arrives, saving her from having to respond to him. The waiter arrives with another worker who carries the food. He asks if they need anything else while the other worker sits the food down in front of the two of them. She looks up, going to thank the waiter, but her eyes focus instead on the other worker. She can’t see his features much at all, merely blue eyes. The sight of them, the clarity in them, gives her heart a start.
“I think we’re fine, right?” her date asks, looking toward her. She reels back her panic, looks away from the piercing eyes. Her date is staring at her with curiosity. She must force herself not to look back at the worker.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” she says, clearing her throat. She takes a gulping drink of her wine, and dares to steal another peak, but the worker is gone, as is the waiter.
The food looks great, but everything tastes like ash in her mouth. Her date falls silent as well, enjoying his food. She takes the moment to reassure herself. It’s been years. He wouldn’t be here. She moved three separate times, had five different jobs, and is in one of the most populated cities in the world. He won’t find her.
It doesn’t stop her from thinking of those eyes again. The way the man stared down at her, face hidden in the shadows of the restaurant. The way her heartbeat accelerated. The anticipation of what he would do. And yet, he didn’t do anything because it wasn’t him.
“How do you like your food?” her date asks, and she almost jumps in her seat. She blinks, realizing she’d found herself spiraling in her own thoughts.
She grips her fork, smiles. “It’s great. And yours?”
She doesn’t hear what he says. All she can think about is him.
The rest of the date goes smoothly. The longer she talks with him, the more her nerves ease. The worker with the blue eyes doesn’t reappear, only the waiter. Her date orders them a dessert, something she finds delightful. They both eat a piece of pie, and this she can taste.
They drink the rest of the bottle, and she’s feeling loose, shaken out. They talk about anything and everything. She stops counting down the minutes, finds herself enjoying her date’s quippy jokes and down to earth nature.
The night winds down, and she excuses herself for a moment. She walks toward the bathroom, smiling softly. She doesn’t see anything serious blooming between the two of them, but she had enjoyed herself. Maybe she’d even take him on his vineyard date idea. If only to get out of the city.
She realizes her mistake when a hand grasps her arm out from the darkness. Her mind flashes to her taser, left in her bag at the table as somebody snaps a hand over her mouth, drags her through the gloom of the restaurant. A door opens, and the warm Los Angeles air greets her.
She struggles against whoever it is, and she’s suddenly thrust against the wall of the restaurant. Above them, a lone streetlight washes the two of them with a golden hue.
Lisa’s eyes widen as she sees Jackson’s seething face. He looks different, hair cut short, slicked back with some kind of gel. It makes his eyes pop even more. He leers at her, and Lisa can’t believe it. She can’t believe he’s here, that he’s found her.
“Hey, Leese, long time no see,” he murmurs, voice pitched low. Lisa almost shutters, hearing him again after so long. His voice makes her cells, her very molecules shake.
She glares at him, feeling the bruising grip on her one arm. Her other, she realizes, is pushing against his chest. She doesn’t even remember when she placed it there.
“If I take my hand off, promise me you won’t scream?” he asks, and she nods. He takes a moment, smiling, before dropping his hand.
Lisa’s breath heaves from her mouth, adrenaline pumping in her veins. He takes the opportunity to place his now free hand up against wall, right next to her face. He leans down, closing the space between them even further. Caging her in. She’s reminded of the airplane, the bathroom.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she spits out, feeling fire in her veins. Just the sight of him has stoked her emotions, has made her feel more in five minutes than her date had the whole night. The realization is not welcome.
“Really?” he simply replies, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He smiles at her, joyous. “Come on, Leese, you practically begged me to come see you.”
Lisa frowns up at him, “What are you talking about?”
He sighs, “So we’re playing dumb now? Not my favorite game…” he trails off. His other hand falls from her arm, and his fishes through his pockets. She tenses, but he only takes out his phone.
He unlocks it, scrolls for a moment, before settling on something. Jackson turns the screen toward her, and Lisa feels her blood freeze. It’s her dating profile. She stares at it and sudden embarrassment. Her face flames as he scrolls through her profile.
“You didn’t even put in a fake name. Leese, I know you like you know me. I know you wouldn’t do something this dumb on accident. You know I wouldn’t ignore something this blatant.”
Lisa’s body slumps against the brick behind her, feeling something like horror mount within her. She bites her lip, wonders what the fuck she was thinking.
But Jackson isn’t done.
“And, really, your date? Never thought you’d go for blondes,” he snipes, rolling his eyes. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and steps back. Something within Lisa moves with him, as if he were a magnet. She stays against the wall, the rough material grounding her.
“Did you like my gift? I wanted to send a sea breeze, but I felt it would have been too on the noise,” Jackson says, and she bites back the sudden need to laugh. She had been right to worry.
“What do you want?” Lisa says, suddenly tired. The adrenaline has left her, and Jackson doesn’t seem to want to pick a fight.
Jackson looks at her, lips forming a pout as the question leaves her lips. “Come on Leese, where’s that fire? Where’s the woman who jammed a pen in my windpipe,” he remarks lightly, as if their past was something to reminisce on.
“Back on the airplane, Jack, where you held me hostage,” Lisa says, reminding both him and herself of their history. Of why she needs to stay on edge.
Jackson’s narrows his eyes, scoffing. He looks away, shaking his head.
“What?” Lisa asks, annoyed at his annoyance.
“I thought we were past this. No one even fucking died. Cut me some slack,” he mutters, and this time Lisa does laugh. At the absurdity of it all.
“You ruined my life,” she says, exasperated. She pushes herself off the brick wall, taking the few scant steps until he was right in front of her. She finds it exhilarating. “You ruined my life and expect me to what…forgive you?”
It’s Jackson’s turn to laugh. “I don’t give a fuck about a forgiveness, Leese. I just want you.”
The words rip her up, sink their claws into her heart. The idea is planted inside her mind. Him wanting her. Her wanting him. She imagines his hands on her, this time with pleasure on both their minds. His mouth on hers, breathing him in, tasting him. His hands trailing low, impossibly lower, hooking under her shirt, ghosting the skin of her navel.
Jackson grins at her, grips her waist, and she’s flung back to reality. She shakes her head, backs away from him. He lets her go, pouting once more.
“I can’t do this,” she utters, feeling something like regret swell in her gut as she turns away from him. She rushes back inside the restaurant, feeling sick.
She finds her date at the table, playing with his phone. He looks up at her when she sits back down. She hides her shaking hands beneath the table. He looks at her, and she can see his relief.
“Hey, thought you ditched me,” he admits lightly, and she tries to laugh, hopes it doesn’t sound as fake to him as it does to her.
“Do you want to get out of here?” she asks, and his eyes light up at her question. He nods.
They are on their way out of the restaurant, and she almost thinks Jackson will let them off the hook when she feels something pull her arm. She turns around and there he is, blue eyes vibrantly bright.
“I won’t seek you out again,” he merely says, and his hand is in hers, warmth blooming in her heart at the small touch.
It’s the strangest ultimatum. She should turn away, thank god that he’ll never look for her again. But the idea of never seeing him again…it almost makes her nauseous.
“You okay?” her date asks, and she blinks. Jackson’s eyes seem almost pleading, his hand in hers begging her to stay.
She turns, looks at her date. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Jackson’s burning gaze follows her out the door.
He’s transported back to when he was a teenager working in the food service industry. Some of the worst months of his life. He had promised himself he’d never go back, and yet he had done it, for Lisa fucking Reisart. Who left him, again, and this time for some fucking tool. He imagines how he’d kill the guy. He’d stalk him, mess with him in quiet ways. Steal into his house. Rearrange his furniture in miniscule ways, until the man feels insanity knocking on his door.
Then, he’d kill him.
But, no, he won’t do it. Because even if Lisa didn’t choose him, he knows she sure as hell didn’t choose her date either. He knows her well enough to know she’d never be satisfied with the puppy dog routine. He’s not smart or daring enough for her.
He takes his anger out on the last customers he serves, spitting into their soup happily. He smiles as he sets down the food in front of them, then he leaves. He got the job by threatening the manager to release photos of him cheating on his wife. Child’s play, really.
He grabs his jacket from the lockers and exits through the backdoors. Just moments ago, he was back here with Lisa, so close to her he could smell her perfume.
He curses to himself and walks toward the front of the building. He thinks of going to one of the bars that populate the area. Drown his sorrows in fucking sea breezes.
He walks out of the back alley and toward the street ahead when he hears the clack of heels behind him. He stiffens and turns. And there she is, Lisa fucking Reisart, standing behind him, arms crossed over her chest. She looks beautiful, perfect under the night sky. She stands a meter away and yet it feels like she’s punched him right in the gut.
“You’ve ruined my life,” she says softly, moving toward him. The sound of her heels may as well have been explosions.
“And you mine,” he replies, because before her he’d been excellent at his job. He’d had a perfect track record. He didn’t care about anyone. His first failure watches him with bright green eyes, the color of earth itself, and he can’t look away.
She grins softly and Jackson’s hands itch to reach for her face, to hold it in his hands. Grip it, keep it close to him forever.
She reaches him, and if before he felt off kilter, her hand slipping into his own may have quite possibly flipped world’s axis on it’s head.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she admits, looking down at their intertwined hands. She caresses his skin with her thumb, and the feeling almost breaks Jackson.
“You’ve been on my mind since before you even knew I existed,” Jackson says, smirking as she looks up and rolls her eyes.
“This is ten degrees of fucked up,” she mutters, voice barely audible, and Jackson almost laughs. Instead, he tilts her head back with his free hand, delicately tracing her jaw with his fingers. She shivers beneath his touch, and he wonders if she’s thinking about the last time his hands were on her like this.
“You love it,” he simply states, the truth ringing through the air.
Her lips part, and before she can reply, he brings the gap to a close, kissing her. She makes a noise that he swallows up, high pitched and keening. He groans, finding the taste of her a new addiction.
His obsession with her grows impossibly stronger.