He walked into the restaurant -- late again for another dinner with his colleagues from across the hall. It had been a long day for William. His pitch to his wealthy new clients from Sweden didn't go as expected. The Swiss didn't find the charm of flashy lights and sparkles as appealing as his American clients did. But he had understated the level of quality that they wanted to see in the brand new chain of watch stores across the country.
He sighed as he briefly addressed the hostess, who herself looked like she'd been up since dawn trying to prepare to "wine and dine" the city's elite -- or at least keep her job. She pointed him to a neatly set up table in the center of the room. He could see Allan and Connor, who'd had climbed the ranks of their large consulting company to become Senior Vice Presidents. William, still dressed in his still immaculate grey suit took off his suit jacket which showed his softly sculpted body outlined in his tailored shirt. The women he dated called it a "dad bod". He was never one for the gym, but he grew up down South. Working on the farm was the best form of workout for those who understood that food didn't come straight from the grocery store, nor heat straight from the radiator. He owned a small farm at his newly built house at the edge of the city's limits.
"Look who it is! Colonel Sanders himself..." jested Connor, who had a deep belly laugh that strangely harmonized with the high pitched squeal of Allan. "I see you two got started without me." Smirked William as he took an empty seat, jealously eyeing the craft beers they always ordered. That's who they are. Allan and Connor. Frick and Frack. Allan had a wide smile with a buzz but, and Connor a golden crown of blonde hair. Both of them top of their class at ivy leagues, where William earned his MBA at the University of Tennessee. He loved the gorgeous hills and valleys, and took his time gazing at them as he worked at the university's equestrian center. "Bourbon on the rocks please..." he asked politely to the waitress who had recently joined them at the table. He delivered a smile as she nodded and smiled back at him. William, a gentle hearted Southern boy was raised to believe that a smile was a kind way to greet someone, and that charm was worth more than gold.
That's what his ex-wife had loved about him the most. She made sure to start off with that in the letter she'd left on the kitchen table in the house they'd invested in as a spritely twenty-ish couple. Wide eyed to life, overtime they'd realized what they had lost by getting married so early in life. She wanted to travel and see the world, she came from a family that had so much money that she didn't even know where the financial aid office was when they were at UT together. William himself worked his way through school, and preferred to spend his time camping across the country, tubing down a river with friends, or on the beach islands on the coast of Georgia. Overtime, she'd decided she wanted to chase her something different, leaving him with a thick head of brown hair with a streak of gray, a softening body, and some stubble that he rarely bothered to keep up. In his late forties, he'd decided that work should and will be his focus from now on. And perhaps a trip here or there to keep the nature boy inside of him happy.
"Alright my friends, what are we doing tonight? Surf and turf? Ribeye? You know Al, Melanie would kill you if she saw you downing more than one beer!" said Connor sheepishly. Allan grinned and took another big swig. "Look at Mr. Big Shot, talking shit when he himself is supposed to be -- watching his "figure". William poked at Connor. "I am watching my figure brother! Watching it go wherever it wants!" Connor proclaimed loudly. William looked around, mindful of his noisy table of elder bros. "Got to take a leak." Said William as he leapt up, colliding with the waitress who had his bourbon on the rocks -- now on his slacks. "I AM SO SORRY SIR!" she tried to grab the dinner napkin and hand it to him. "It's no problem, he assured her." Lifting up his hands to disarm her. He was annoyed but tried to play it cool. His brand-new Vineyard Vines tie was also stained, he hoped that there was some way to remove the stain.
The waitress pointed him towards a dimly lit hallway, where he could vaguely make out a bathroom sign. "Dammit, I just bought this suit." He shook his hands as he briskly made his way towards the jon. He had almost made it to the hallway when he slammed into another body. Why couldn't people just watch where they're going? He now had a bright red splotch all over his shirt to add to his Bourbon stain, his pale skin also covered in red liquid. He looked up to find a black woman standing in front of him, staring at him with disgust on her face and a cocktail glass in her hands. Her denim blouse was also stained red, the buttons pulling so tight on the fabric that they could burst at any moment.
"Watch where you going, you outta style "Good Ole Boy"!" she spat at him, unrolling a spare silverware set letting the utensils clatter against the table. She wiped vigorously at the blotch "Ugh, Mr. Board Room thinks we all got money to spare on clothes!" He gazed at her mouth agape. "What about me you ghetto bitch!?" he spat back at her, surprising both of them. He'd never used that word "Ghetto?!" she snapped at him. He paused, wracking his brain for what he could say next. He'd never used that word before; it'd never crossed his mind. But this mishap pushed him over the edge. "Whatever, just get lost, and watch where you're going next time". He hoped that they would both just choose to move on and address their stained clothes, clearly both devastated.
Mariah walked back to her table slowly. "That white bastard could clearly afford to buy more Tommy Hilfiger, but Sis cannot." She murmured to herself. "Everything ok?" asked Mike, who was simultaneously reaching for a second dinner roll. "Yeah, it's fine" being careful to cover the stain with her sleeve. Mariah had just graduated with her PhD in physics, bright eyed and excited to change the world. Well...some of that "changing the world" shit was taking its sweet time. She was born and raised in NOLA with a big family who loved and cared about her. Her love of cars as a child (old and new) had inspired her to be a physicist. Her crew post-graduate school ran deep -- there's not much you can do to stop a crew of 5 black women in whatever they wanted to do. Their collective review of Mike thus far has been lackluster, and Mariah herself (as much as she hated it) had to agree. He spent most of his time watching video games, or watching people play video games when he wasn't with her. He wasn't much a talker, but when he did share it was mostly about himself. Over the course of the dinner, they had talked about the new 2K coming out, how his neighbor hated his yelling into his gaming headset -- but I guess Call of Duty needed to be screamed into his controller.
Mariah was barely listening anyway, still thinking about the stain on her shirt. One of her favorites, ugh. After the dinner was finished, she paid the bill -- none of that chivalry shit. It didn't matter much because the finals were about to start at the bar across the city. If he wasn't there to see the tip off, then there would be serious consequences. She watched him trot away to catch the train, and slowly made her way to the roundabout outside the restaurant. It had gotten cold, and she began to regret her decision to wear her new leather skirt -- with hopes that Mike would notice.
