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He left, and I kind of just sat there thinking to myself that this was the strangest lunch meeting or whatever it was I’d ever attended. Somewhere between five and ten minutes later, he returned with Rell.
“Do you want him to join us, or do you think he should have his own table?”
I peered up at Rell, who looked both surprised and a little uncomfortable, and it occurred to me that maybe he liked waiting outside. Maybe he wasn’t sociable. “I-I don’t know, Mr. Higgs. Ask him.”
He sighed lightly and turned to Rell. “You wanna eat with us, man?”
Rell shook his head and looked at me, shaking it again.
“You want your own table?”
He shook his head once more, rested a meaty hand on his boss’ shoulder, and gave me a little smile and a nod before leaving the restaurant. Lorenzo reclaimed his seat and took a sip of his water.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said.
“I wasn’t going to have it said that I mistreat my employees. Rell is not the most social person. He likes being alone.”
“You could’ve just told me that, and anyway, like I said before, it’s none of my business.”
“Well, you kind of made it your business when you brought it up.”
I reclined in my chair a bit. “Mr. Higgs—”
“You can call me Lorenzo, but I’d actually prefer for you to call me Zo.”
“No.”
He leaned forward. “Why?”
“What did you want to talk to me about regarding your sister?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing,” he repeated.
“But you said—”
“I know what I said. Look, I appreciate how you took care of her and the baby, and hell, how you helped me. We were all in a panic until you got there. Your presence calmed us and got my little sister through everything better than I could’ve imagined. I wanted to thank you, but I knew you wouldn’t allow me to do it properly otherwise.”
I scoffed. “So you tricked me into going to lunch with you?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. And I’m still going to make that donation.”
I shook my head and would’ve left had the waiter not shown up right at that moment with our food. I was hungry and he was paying, so I dug in without another word.
Halfway through our meal, he broke into our mutual silence, asking, “How is it?”
I looked up at him. He had this serious look on his face that made me believe he really cared about my answer. “Delicious. How’s yours?”
“Good, but I could do better.”
“You cook?”
“Yes. You should let me cook for you sometimes.”
Wait a minute. Was he flirting with me?
