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Steve checks his watch again. It's been forty-five minutes. Perhaps she is just running late.
He sits at his usual table at the Red Room Bar & Grill. His table is one of the tables in the corner where he has a good view of the whole room. There is a VIP section upstairs with a balcony that overlooks the restaurant, to which he has been invited to several times, but that's not where he usually likes to sit.
Here he can see the tables, the people, and a perfect view of the stage where there is usually live music. Local artists are usually invited and occasionally big time artists will make an appearance, but oftentimes, music is provided by a paid band. However, the restaurant has been trying to hire a singing waitress.
The last singing waitress, Carol Danvers, was a terrible singer. The owner, Steve's best friend, Bucky Barnes took pity on her because she was a fellow veteran like him, but she didn't have a very good work ethic. She was also far too temperamental and rude to the male customers. It was just bad for business.
There is no music being provided at the moment as the band is taking a break. The Red Room is usually pretty busy this time of evening and tonight is no exception. The restaurant has a bit of a retro feel to it for Steve with the round tables each with red tablecloths as well as the stage that includes a catwalk. As if the red tablecloths weren’t enough to give the Red Room its name, The lights coming off the stage are red and during the nightclub hours like tonight, the lights in the dining room area are red.
The reddish glow given off by the lights add a certain sensual charm to the restaurant that Steve finds appealing. From his vantage point, he can see people enjoying themselves. At this nighttime hour, children are not allowed in and a good thing too.
It’s not unusual for late customers to come here looking for a hookup. Steve has seen many people come here solo and leave with someone. Over at the bar, he watches as a man and a woman engage in lively conversation. That man looks very aroused and is trying to not show it by crossing his legs. The woman he is talking to isn’t exactly making it hard with her black cocktail dress and open-toed shoes.
There are plenty of other couples here at the Red Room, but there are also a few groups as well. Steve tries not to pay too much attention to the groups of women having a girls’ night out. If he does, it’s only for artistic purposes.
He’s filled many pages in his sketchbook with scenes from this very restaurant. He keeps them to himself usually. They feel like diary entries. In many of them, he often depicts himself alone. His friends love to include him and make him more social, but he often finds himself feeling like a third wheel.
Hopefully that will change this evening. He doesn’t use social media often, but he does have an active Twitter page. He often uses it simply to announce when he has his next art gallery.
He’s earned himself significant attention because of his artwork and he’s slowly been building a name for himself in the city. There has even been increased demand for his artwork. A while ago, he had a huge payday when he was asked to paint a landscape of a property owned by Tony Stark. It took him a while, but he finally finished his painting of Tony’s upstate forest retreat.
His friends wanted to celebrate, but Steve didn’t want to do anything fancy. His success was in the news and his modest Twitter following blew up with words of praise and congratulations. He usually deletes any personal messages sent his way, but one of them did catch his attention.
It was a message from a woman named Peggy. He looked at her profile and he liked what he saw. She was from England and was a businesswoman as well as a British Army veteran. He has a lot of respect for veterans. He couldn’t serve in the army himself because of his asthma, but his sister, Wanda convinced him to try and pursue his love for art.
He is always too stubborn to admit it, but he’s grateful to her that he listened to her advice.
He started chatting with Peggy, introducing himself and getting to know her. One thing led to another and eventually she asked if he could send her a picture of himself. He did so and she told him he looked handsome even with his small, frail stature. He asked her if she could send him a photo and she warned him that she might be naked. He wasn’t used to flirting, but he thought he would play along. She ended up sending him a topless photo of herself with her arm covering her breasts.
Over the next few weeks, he continued chatting with her and getting to know her more and more, well more she was getting to know him at times. She even started having sexual chats with him, talking about making love to him and taking him in her mouth. She talked about the things she wanted him to do to her too if they were together and that she would go easy on him since he was and still is a virgin.
It filled his head with such fantasies that he found himself doodling depictions of himself with her. Not all of them were explicit. In fact, most of them have been quite tame. He drew depictions of the two of them dancing, having dinner, cooking together, and cuddling together. He very well could have drawn depictions of having sex with her, but he wanted to save that for the real thing.
He told her many times that he was drawing pictures of them and every time she begged and begged for him to send her images of what he drew, but he wanted to wait until he met her to show her.
He never shares his personal artwork over the internet if he can help it.
Eventually he was ready to meet her and he gathered the courage to ask her out. He told her about this very restaurant and she sounded excited to meet him. She even sent him a picture of herself wearing a low-cut red dress that exemplified her bosom.
So he got himself ready, putting on his best black shirt and a white blazer and shined his shoes. He combed his hair nearly as he always does. His sister, Wanda, always likes to ruffle his hair just to pick on him. You can't blame a guy for taking pride in his looks. He didn’t go overboard with cologne, but no amount of cologne can ever seem to get rid of the smell of paint in his clothes. He works out of his loft apartment; the smell of paint is difficult to get rid of.
No one has ever told him it was annoying, but he still hopes that Peggy doesn’t notice or at least not be annoyed by it. Now that he has it on his mind, it will be that much harder for him to think of something else. It doesn’t take much for him to get self-conscious. He’s well aware of how small and frail he always looks.
How can he not be? He’s been in and out of the hospital his whole life with rheumatic fever, scarlet fever, severe asthma, and he dealt with scoliosis as a child which had him wearing a brace for the longest time. He’s had surgery to get his back corrected, but he still goes in once in a while to monitor it and he wonders if his back pains will ever fully go away.
His mother is a brilliant doctor and even though he’s an adult now with his own income, she still insists on helping with his medical expenses.
Steve checks his watch again. Was she not coming? Why wouldn’t she come? Is he that undesirable? Is he that unlovable? Would he be better off if he was taller, stronger, and healthier? Would he be more attractive if he was a doctor or a lawyer? What if he was a soldier? He can’t be a soldier, like his father was. He wouldn’t pass a medical exam, not even close.
Why should he be so unattractive? He takes care of himself. He eats healthy for the most part. His asthma makes it hard for him to do a lot of physical activity, but he exercises. He’s a hard worker and he’s made himself a living off of his passion for art. He has carved himself a life and he has found himself some modest success.
His musings are interrupted as his phone chimes. He checks it and his eyes light up as he sees it’s a message from Peggy. He opens his phone and reads the message. His face sours as he reads the message.
Hey, darling. Sorry, I am stuck at home. Can you help me?
Steve texts back. What’s wrong? What do you need? He waits for her answer.
Darling, I need you to send me a $500 gift card to help my gran. She’s fallen ill.
Steve frowns.
“Hey, brother, how are you?”
Steve gasps as he turns around and sees his younger sister. “Wanda, don’t sneak up on me like that!”
Wanda laughs brightly. Her hair was tied back in a chignon bun with a few loose bangs and her cherry red lips matched her deep red cocktail dress with a short skirt and red ankle-strap shoes. He suspects a special occasion. He knows about her relationship with his best friend and fully supports it, but she doesn’t often dress up quite like this.
“Sorry, brother, but you look miserable. You want to talk about it?” She sits down across from him without an invitation.
Instead of answering, Steve puts his phone on the table and passes it to his sister. She picks it up and he notices a ring on her finger that wasn’t there before. He fights back his excitement. Her eyes darken as her eyes scan the messages and when she looks up from under her eyebrows, Steve sees blazes of fury. She could very well incinerate someone just by looking them in the eye.
“Steve, has this woman ever asked you for money before?”
Steve shakes his head. “No, this is the first time,” he says.
“You weren’t planning on sending her anything, were you?”
Steve doesn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. “Um…”
Wanda reaches across the table and takes his hand in hers. “I’m sorry, brother, but this woman is probably scamming you,” she says. “There is no reason why she should be asking you for money, not when you two haven’t even met. Even if you had, I still wouldn’t give her money if I were you.”
Steve nods, looking away. “Yeah, just my luck,” he says more to himself. No one took him to a Sadie Hawkins dance. Bucky tried a few times to take him on double dates, but those women never seemed interested in him.
Wanda squeezes his hand. “ Can you look at me, brother ?” she asks in her native Sokovian tongue.
With effort, Steve meets her gaze.
“Chin up, Steve,” she says with a smile. “You’re not the first person to be catfished and sadly you won’t be the last. God knows if I ever met this twat, I’d beat the shit out of her–don’t tell Mom I swore.”
Steve smiles at her vulgarity. “I love you, sis.”
“You better,” Wanda teases. “Now let’s order you something so we can turn that frown upside down.” She snaps her fingers calling over a waitress. “Ah, Natasha, can you get this man a Diet Coke with lemon and some fried pickles?”
“Sure, anything else?”
Steve doesn’t recognize that voice. He knows the staff here very well. He cranes his neck and his heart skips a beat.
He doesn’t know this woman. Who is this woman that he is looking at with a flaming bob of red hair, emerald eyes that look like spring and full lips? She is a petite woman with full breasts with a bit of an hourglass body displayed by her prominent curves. Her smokey voice has a low register that he’s never heard before. A tattoo inside her wrist shows a red hourglass with black shading. It reminds him of pencil shadings, but it’s red and black. Leading away from that hourglass is spiderweb branching out in every direction going around her arm and up to her forearm. To go with that tattoo, the nails on that arm are painted red. Interestingly enough, the nails on her left hand are black.
What a fascinating juxtaposition, seeing the symmetry of her emerald eyes and then seeing the asymmetry of her tattooed arm and red and black nails.
“I’m sorry, what?” Steve asks.
Natasha smiles and it makes his toes curl. “I asked if you wanted anything else.”
Have you ever had your portrait painted? Steve clears his throat. “Oh, no that will be all, thanks,” he says.
Natasha writes down some notes. “I’ll be right back then.” She walks away.
“Um, I’m Steve,” says Steve, but she had already walked away. Steve turns and looks at his sister. His face melts into a glare as he sees how hard she is stifling her giggles.
“Smooth,” she says. “That was very smooth.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve says stubbornly.
"Steve, you were gawking."
"I wasn't gawking."
"You were looking at her like you wanted to paint her portrait for free."
Steve puts his face in his hands. "Shut up, Wanda."
"At least she's real," says Wanda.
Steve fumes. He knows she didn't say it to be mean. He's upset that he's in this situation. What did he do to deserve to get stood up? He knows he's ugly. He's seen himself in the mirror. His frail, skinny frame isn't what women want. They want strong, tall and healthy men, but why did he need to be reminded of it tonight?
His phone chimes again and Wanda checks if for him. She snorts. "Peggy is asking if you're still here," she says dispassionately. She starts texting furiously.
Steve narrows his eyes. "What're you doing?" He tries to snatch his phone away, but Wanda is too quick for him.
"I am telling this Redcoat that I'm your sister and that her grandma can kiss dirt because she's not getting a penny from you," growls Wanda as her fingers text violently.
Steve realizes there is no stopping her, so he just sits back as Wanda sends the message.
Just then Natasha comes back with the Diet Coke and fried pickles. "And here you go, sir," she says.
"Hey, Natasha, my brother here was just telling me how pretty you are and he wants to talk to you about painting your portrait," says Wanda.
Steve's eyes widen as Natasha raises her eyebrows.
She smiles at him sweetly. "Is that so?"
Steve opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.
Wanda chuckles and stands up. "You take a break, Natasha and get to know my brother. Don't worry, he doesn't bite." She winks at Steve and then walks off.
He's going to murder his sister, but not before he murders Bucky for giving her that engagement ring without his permission. He has no time to grumble as Natasha catches his attention.
"You think I'm pretty?" she asks.
Steve meets her eyes. She sounded shy. Why would she be shy? Doesn't she know how beautiful she is? Eventually he smiles. "Well yes, actually I do."
Natasha blushes again. "You didn't actually tell Wanda I'm pretty, did you?"
Steve's face melts. "No–but that doesn't mean I don't think so!" he adds quickly.
Natasha laughs. Even her laugh is beautiful. "You don't talk to a lot of women, do you?"
"Not unless it's about art," says Steve.
Natasha smiles, showing her perfect teeth. "May I sit?"
Steve holds out his hand to the seat across from him. Natasha takes a seat. He regards her thoughtfully. She wears a black sleeveless denim blouse, black slacks and blood red Converse All-Stars as all the waitresses wear and it compliments her tattoo and red hair very well. He wonders what her hair looks like if she were to undo her bun. In the red glow of the restaurant, her skin reminds him of satin. As per Bucky's dress code, she does not show off her cleavage. It's more for his waitresses' benefit. He's had to kick out many men for getting handsy with his waitresses.
Still, Steve can't help wondering how he can capture her essence on canvas. It will be a challenge. The more he looks, the more he sees.
"What're you looking at?"
Steve blinks. He didn't realize he had been staring. "Sorry, ma'am, I'm…evaluating you."
Natasha raises an eyebrow. "What're you evaluating?"
"I'm an artist; it's part of my process to look at someone and try to determine the best way to capture them on canvas." Being given the opportunity to talk about art is really helping Steve relax as he sits up straighter.
"Well I hope you like what you see," Natasha says. He looks her in the eye and he has the impression that she's not used to men looking at her without undressing her with their eyes. "But I'm sorry to say, I have no money to pay you with."
Steve thinks through his answer for a minute. "How about you join me for dinner sometime and we'll call it even?"
Natasha beams. "I like that idea."
Their conversation is interrupted by Bucky as he walks up to the table. "Ahem, Natasha? You're up."
Natasha clears her throat. She takes out a pen and grabs Steve's hand. She scribbles some numbers into his palm. "That's my number." Then she stands and walks off.
"I hired a former ballet prima donna and she's already setting up a date with my best friend," muses Bucky. "I am awesome ."
"Oh shup up, Bucky," says Steve, but he's blushing. "When were you going to tell me you proposed to my sister?"
Bucky exhales as he smooths his long hair. He had grown it out ever since he got back from the Army and now he looks like Qui-Gon Jinn, if Qui-Gon had a state-of-the-art prosthetic arm made for him by Shuri Tech from Wakanda. "I was going to tell you. I love her, Steve."
Steve smiles. "I'm happy for you, Buck. But if you break her heart, I'm kicking your ass."
Bucky smiles. "That won't happen."
Steve regards him skeptically as he bites into a fried pickle.
Music starts playing and Steve looks to the stage. He sees Natasha sitting on a stool in front of a microphone. So she's Bucky's new singing waitress. That's not what makes Steve drop his pickle.
Her hair is no longer in a bun. What he sees now is a sleek curtain of red waves around her shoulder. He's seen many women with beautiful, voluminous hair, but this woman… Where did she come from and why can't he take his eyes off of her?
Now she's looking right at him and he's trapped in her gaze as she begins to sing.
" I heard there was a secret chord,
That David played and it pleased the Lord,
But you don't really care for music, do you?
And it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelu-ooo-ooo-ooo ooo-ooo-jah "
Steve smiles as he feels his spirits soar. In his mind, he's already painting a masterpiece in her image. Bucky said she used to dance ballet? He sees her dancing through the colors of the canvas to the tunes of Tchaikovsky. He is capturing every inch of her beauty with paint. He's never painted anyone for free before. Even his sister gives him a fee, even though for his family he offers a considerable discount.
He just wants Natasha to pay him back by joining him for dinner. Maybe she won't ghost him. Maybe she won't catfish him and humiliate him. As she sings, he wants to take that chance.
His phone chimes again and he checks it. It's from Peggy.
Steve, my darling, what's going on? Why is your sister checking your phone? I love you so much.
The message even included a nude photo of her, posing sensually on her bed. He could tell her that this is proof of her standing him up. It's not even worth it. He sends her two words.
Fuck off.
He blocks her.