Thanks for the update, Charlene texted back. You're going straight home after dinner?

Yes. I'll let you know when I've left. Nothing to worry about, though. I don't think you'd like him but he's not sleazy.

What's for dessert?

Chocolate cake!!!

Enjoy!

* * *

"Here you go," said the server. Ken wasn't a big fan of chocolate cake, but it sure looked fancy. "All on one check?"

"Yes, please. As soon as you're ready."

"I'll go get it now."

Gertie returned to the booth just as the server left. "Oh my God, that looks good."

"Dig in."

Gertie picked up her knife and divided the cake into two equal sections. Apparently she didn't want to catch his germs. Well, fuck you, too.

After they'd had a couple of bites, the server returned with the check. Seventy-one bucks and they hadn't even ordered alcohol. More reason to be pissed if Gertie escaped. He took out his wallet, counted out four twenties and a five, which was neither a memorably good tip nor a memorably bad one. Right in line with what society said he was supposed to give her. "No change," he told the server as she collected the cash.

He occasionally wished he had a credit card under a fake name, but he didn't have the resources to make that happen, so it was always cash payments in situations like these. Though most diners paid with credit cards, leaving eighty-five bucks in cash wasn't weird enough to call attention to him.

He and Gertie continued to eat the cake. She raved about its sheer deliciousness, while he found it sickeningly sweet. He pretended that it was simply delectable, of course.

She wasn't drinking any of her Diet Coke.

He wasn't sure how to encourage her to take a drink. It would be strange to suggest to another adult that they finish their beverage. He could take a drink of his water to send a subtle reminder that her drink existed, but it had trace amounts of Rohypnol in it, so that would be a remarkably poor choice on his part.

They finished the cake. She scraped up the frosting from her side of the plate, getting every last trace.

How did you convince somebody to take a drink without it seeming unusual?

"That was some seriously good cake," he said. "Made me thirsty."

God, that was lame. Why had he said that? He picked up his glass and pretended to take a drink, not letting any get into his mouth. He set down the glass.

Gertie didn't take a drink from hers.

Goddamn it.

There was nothing he could do. Unless she grabbed it and took one last swig as they got up to leave, she was going to leave the glass half-full.

"Should we head off?" she asked.

No, he wanted to say. How about you finish that fucking glass of Diet Coke that I paid for, bitch?

"Yep," he said, sliding out of the booth.