Page 33 of Caged

“My pleasure. I’ll see you in a few hours,” Adam said while smiling at ‘my wife’ and ignoring me. His actions shouldn’t have invoked anger or jealousy.

But they did.

We left and walked to the restaurant in silence. I played my part and put my hand on the small of her back. She played her part and didn’t threaten to break the offending appendage. Judging from the tension in her muscles and the clench in her jaw, she wanted to break more than my hand.

I smiled, wondering how far I could go before she hit me again.

Don’t be stupid, Sheppard.

Not wanting to push my luck, risk losing my job, or disappointing my family, I dropped my hand before opening the door.

The restaurant looked more upscale than I’d expected. The interior was dimly lit; there were colorful murals on the walls, and dark wood chairs surrounding tables covered in contrasting white tablecloths.

“How many?” the hostess asked.

“Two, please,” I answered. “A corner booth, if that’s okay.” I nodded to the far side of the restaurant.

She nodded as she grabbed two menus. “This way.”

We sat close to each other on the curved bench, giving us both an unimpeded view of the restaurant.

“I hope you like Chinese,” Maxwell said.

Did I detect a note of teasing?

“I’ll eat just about anything.” It wasn’t a lie, and I was always hungry.

After we ordered an appetizer platter, lo mein with chicken for Maxwell, and a Kung Pao Chicken for me, Maxwell got up to use the restroom. On her way back, she took her time looking over the ads and notices on the bulletin board.

“What caught your eye?” I asked after she sat back down.

“Another restaurant to try,” she answered as she showed me the image.

The business card she’d snapped a photo of was odd in it’s ambiguity, but the image reminded me of a flyer I saw in the Quick Wash. I pulled up the photo I’d snapped.

“What do you think they’re hiding?” she whispered, her eyes darting between the two images. Our server brought our appetizers, so we put our phones away and played at being a married couple who still needed to unpack while we ate. I thought the egg rolls were good, not Michelin Star good, but better than average. Maxwell disagreed.

After polishing off more than my fair share of the appetizers, at Maxwell’s insistence, I visited the men’s room, stopping to examine the bulletin board on my way out.

I paid cash for lunch so we didn’t leave a paper trail, and carried our leftovers as we walked back to my truck.

Deciding we ‘needed’ gum, we ducked into the liquor store to see what we could see.

A flyer, like the one in the cleaners, was taped to the window.

Back in the truck, I asked, “Do you think they’re all involved in something shady? Or are they just being neighborly by hanging the flyers?”

“That’s one of the questions we need to answer,” she said.

“Why the attitude?”

“What attitude? All I did was answer your question.”

“As condescendingly as possible.”

“Christ, Jaden, get over yourself,” she huffed. “I don’t know the answer and was thinking out loud. Not attacking you.”

“You could have said that.”

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