THE DINNER

I am spending my penultimate last day at Damian's place, and all I can say is that I have had the most incredible time. He is an empathetic true gentleman, a terrific cook who I would not mind sticking around to continue receiving free cooking lessons from, and a snazzy weirdo knight that any lady would want to go out with, which is what I am doing right now. He is a polished knight in shining armor—amazing in everything. Nevertheless, I must leave his home and start all over. We'll still stay in touch, primarily because I'll be living a few blocks away from him and also because I don't want to lose the only companion I have in this new city. A friend indeed. He has earned that emblem in the one week I have spent with him.




Since my house is ready thanks to all the support he gave me, including moving my stuff there, I made the decision to treat him tonight—a show of gratitude. I adore his cooking and the tranquility of his home, but today I did something different. I took him out to a 5-star hotel—this glitzy, opulent hotel where we are enjoying the same mouthwatering condiments, which include spiced rice, bhajia, grilled honey chicken, and sauce combos. This city has already won my heart.




"So, are you still not ready to go back to work?" He asks, digging into his plate of food.




"Not yet." I respond, chewing on my food and refraining from moaning due to the sweet taste and aroma.



"How long is your vacation?"



Ahem!

I have no idea. Haven't I told him that already? I hope to get a kick out of this as much as I can and as long as it lasts, and if possible, I don't want to ponder anything else at all. At least not that sh*t called work.



"I don't know." I mumble.



"Okay. In case you need assistance finding one over here, I am here. I can find something for you."



That sounds fantastic, but I suppose I will be demanding too much of him. He can't save me in every type of scenario, after all. With the skills I have, I'm optimistic any organization would want to offer me a position.



"I'll keep that in mind." I mutter as I toss the empty plate of food aside and reach for my juice.

We savor our juices in utter silence; he is engrossed in what I don't know, and I am reminiscing on what life has in store for me here. Hopefully, it will be good and peaceful.



"So, anything that you want to talk about? You seem to be carrying a lot." He mumbles after a long time.

"No. I'm alright. I'll settle the bill so that we can leave." I say this and stand up, walking to the counter.



I say hello to the cashier and pull my credit card out of my pouch. I turn to gawk at my still-seated companion as the cashier swipes the card. It's surprising how quickly I've warmed up to him. I can't help but wonder what occurred between him and the woman for whom he said he had been waiting for the longest. Why did she reject him? He is all that defines a breathtaking Greek god.



"Excuse me, miss?"



I turn to the angelic voice of the lady cashier when she speaks. "Yes, miss?" I ask.



"Your card is empty."



Ahem! Ahem!

"Sorry?" I ask, guffawing at her incoherent insult of a jest and growing a little agitated with rage.


Is she insane or intoxicated? Billions have been sitting on my card for years. I just paid for my house with it three days ago. How is it that she claims it is empty? My card cannot possibly be empty unless there is a problem with the bank or this old machine of theirs.


"I said your card is empty, ma'am!"

Ma'am? Do I look like her grandmother?



"Ellie! My name is Ellie!" I correct her; paranoia getting the best of me.



"Whatever, but your card is empty anyway. Can you pay in cash?" She slams the card on my table, and I glare at her.



The temerity! What an arrogant bitch! "In case you haven't read the name on the card, I am Ellie Marrie Riccaford! I can not be walking around with an empty card for fuck's sake!" I brat out, feeling proud of my surname for the first time since I can remember.



She lowers her face to look at my card on the table while furrowing her eyebrow to authenticate my details. Her eyes are narrow! She raises her head to me once again and gives me a sheepish expression as I sigh in frustration.



"I am sorry, miss Riccaford." She stands up, fixing her extremely short skirt and a blouse that exposes half of her boobs. "I... I'll try again." She adds, her hands shaking as she takes the credit card from where she threw it a minute ago.



"Don't just try but keep trying until it works. Your machine ought to be faulty for" I refrain myself cursing.



The machine continues to produce the same irritating screech with readout red flashes as she swipes the card on it repeatedly for the next couple of minutes. At this point, I choose to spare her the misery. Not because I am feeling sorry for her but only because I don't want to take up any more of Damian's time. He must be growing inquisitive about what is happening over here, I know.

"You know what, Give me that." I snatch the card from her and toss it in my purse, fishing out another debit card. Let's see if this one has a problem too. "Try this." I hand her the card.

"Sure, miss." She bows a little in response: -The impacts of being a Riccaford, huh? My father was not a governor once for nothing. But I am glad that crap only lasted for one term before he resigned. Politics is nothing but dirty, disgusting, deadly rubbish! Sigh!