Strings Attached
part 1
by Mrs. Eyre
"It's not a big deal""Sure it is. You won't tell me where we're going. It's a big deal."
"It's not. It's just a surprise."
"I don't like surprises."
"Everyone likes surprises."
"Not me."
"It just has to be the right surprise."
"Not me."
"It's dinner, that's all. We haven't been out to eat in weeks."
"It's Croatian, isn't it?" No answer. "Isn't it? It is. I knew it."
"Look, if there's nothing on the menu you like I'll ask them to order out for you. It will be humiliating, but for you -"
"What do you mean if? I've never found anything I liked yet!"
"Well I miss it and I swear to God if I see another pizza I'll scream."
"What?"
"Come on, you'd live on it if you could."
"You never said."
"I'm saying now."
"You're really pissed about the pizza?" She'd stopped walking and he turned to look at her.
"Pissed? No. Bored? Yes"
"I like pasta."
"I was coming to that."
"You were?"
"Oh yes." But he was smiling now. She looked past him down the street through the faint November mist, considering.
"OK. OK, you may have a point about the pizza. Maybe."
"You could try the fish."
"They leave the heads on, Luka."
"I'll tell them to take the head off."
"But I'd still know it had been there."
"Abby - "
"Kidding, I'm kidding, OK? I'll try the fish."
It didn't look promising. The window was completely obliterated by condensation and the noise spilled out into the street even before Luka opened the door. But Abby was cold and the rush of warm air was enticing and she followed him in, reaching a hand out to hold onto his coat. These places always made her feel out of place, with their noise, their smoke, the almost indecently warm welcome they offered, want it or not. She felt Luka relax into the place like a warm bath. The hum of spoken Croatian was oddly exotic, strangely evocative like half remembered music or a long forgotten scent and she felt herself blush a little when she realised that the place she heard this language most often was in bed. "You made a reservation?"
"Of course."
"It's very busy."
"It always is. That's why I made the reservation."
"They messed up. We don't have a table."
"We do."
"No, look, they're all full. We should go somewhere else."
"We have a table." The waiter who approached them greeted Luka with a brilliant smile; Abby wanted to punch him, but followed him and Luka toward the very back of the room.
"There's no table, Luka. I don't want to share."
The table to which the waiter had lead them seemed to have been set for six and three other people were already there. A man and his companion, and, with his back to them another, older man, lounging messily, one arm stretched along the chair next to him, a cigarette slotted between his fingers. Abby experienced a sudden, overwhelming desire to turn and run.
The younger man saw them, stood, jarring the table and spilling water onto the cloth. The woman spoke sharply to him and he flushed. Abby looked at this man with dawning realisation. Tall, dark, a little heavily set, but eerily familiar in the way his nervous smile lit up his face for a second. Luka had made his way to the woman who stood now and embraced him, kissing his face, smiling up at him. The man continued to look steadily at Abby, his eyes searching her face.
"Abby." Luka held out his hand. She didn't take it. "This is Tatijana, my sister in law."
Oh, no kidding, you sonofabitch she thought. Luka grabbed her hand and pulled her forward. The woman, slight, blonde, pretty and smelling of talcum powder, hugged her and smiled right into her eyes.
"I'm so happy to meet you."
"And Damir." The hand extended to her was cool and dry, his grasp firm, long fingers so very, very familiar. He bowed slightly over her hand.
"A great pleasure." But his tone was guarded and his eyes as cool as his handclasp. Luka moved very close to her and turned her around so that he stood behind her, hands resting on her shoulders. She could feel him breathing a little too fast.
"Sonofabitch" she said sottovoce. The elderly man looked at her from something like Luka's height with eyes so like Luka's that for a moment she was confused. He put out his cigarette and held her gaze. He didn't hug her; did not offer his hand. Luka was speaking.
"And this is -"
"Ivica," the man finished, his voice full of smoke; "I am Ivica. And you must sit by me."