Your Turn to Die

No matter how difficult the investigation may be, there needs to be a little time to unwind each day. Here's a scene where Chene invites his lady friend, Simone, out to dinner.

“Fifteen minutes!”

“I’m stopping at Little Tree. It’s been a while since I’ve had sushi.”

She made a derogatory noise. “I’ll meet you there.”

I was glancing at the menu when Simone came in. She gave me a brief kiss. She was tense.

“You okay?”

“Fine.” Her mannerisms said otherwise. She tried for a stern expression but couldn’t hold it.

“You really don’t get it?”

“What don’t I get?” I asked.

“You call a woman about dinner, but you give her no time to get ready. You invite her to the same restaurant where you had your first date.”

“You don’t need time to get ready. You’re beautiful.”

She waved away the compliment. “Is that so?”

“Yes, it is so. And if you needed time to get ready, you could have told me. It’s just that this place was close by for both of us.”

“Really. So it was convenient?”

I nodded. “I haven’t seen you since Sunday. It’s tough when we’re in the middle of a complicated case. I thought it would be nice to have dinner.”

“So you’re saying you missed me?”

This was unfamiliar territory for me. “Yes. I miss you.”

She relaxed and rolled her eyes. “That’s nice to hear. But would it have killed you to call me earlier?”

Simone took a quick glance at the menu, then closed it and looked at me. I ordered sushi dinners for both of us.

“That’s what we had last time,” she said.

“I remember. And for the record, I didn’t think that was a date.”

She gave a little laugh. “You bought me dinner and a glass of wine. We talked for a while. I learned about your background you learned about mine. That was a date.”

“Okay. It was a date.”

“Our first date. Chene, for such a smart guy, you can be kind of dumb when it comes to women.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She laughed and shook her head. Her eyes were glowing now. Apparently, I was about to be forgiven.

It was only as we walked out that I had a chance. We stopped beside her car.

“Have you figured it out yet, Jeff?”

“Not a clue.”

“Do you know why I’m wearing slacks?”

“Not a clue,” I repeated.

She huffed out a breath in frustration. “Because I haven’t shaved my legs in a few days and wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”

“So if I’d given you more than fifteen-minutes notice…”

“…I would have shaved my legs and worn a skirt.”

Simone was struggling to keep a disgusted look on her face. It wasn’t working. I took her hands and pulled her close.

“Next time, I’ll give you more notice.”    

 She hugged me. “You’re still kind of dumb about women, Chene.”

“I know. But there is one thing you should keep in mind.”

Simone leaned back. “What’s that?”

“I would pay to shave those legs.”

She burst out laughing. Her eyes were dancing

“One question.”

“What’s that?”

“How much?”