Chapter 19: Monday Evening, 6:02PM

Will stiffened, his eyes becoming slightly wild as he stared back at his girlfriend.

“William!” his evening gown-wearing, [Model] mother exclaimed, a beautiful smile that didn’t reach her eyes appearing on her exquisitely made-up face. “It’s been so long!” She held her arms out expectantly, making no move to go towards him. “Give me a hug, dear.”

I can’t deny that she looks beautiful, Class or not.

Will twitched, and the door closed slightly as he took a step towards his mother.

Showtime.

Alaina stepped through the still-opened doorway, pretending to ignore him and the blonde woman who looked to be a little over half her real age. “Mr. White,” she said, holding out her hand with a courteous smile. “So nice of you to make time to see us.”

A sour look passed across Bill White’s face for an instant before he raised his hand to grasp hers in a firm handshake. “Alaina, was it?” Not a single strand of his perfectly-parted hair slipped out of place either as he peered down at her or when he glanced towards the door leading into the restaurant proper. “I’m certainly intrigued to see why you selected this... place.”

She affected a look of surprise. “Me? Oh no, Mr. White, it was Will who decided to come here.” She turned back, catching Will’s eye as his mother fussed with the collar of his shirt. “Will, I hate to interrupt, but you did make our reservation for six, yes?” She tilted her head slightly towards the door.

“Yes, of course,” Will said, sounding off again. He stiffly stepped around his mother and towards the inner door, where he hesitated for a moment before pulling it open.

Bill White made a sound which might have been approving before stepping through at a brisk pace. Mrs. White followed as though tethered to him on a leash.

Alaina went through last, grabbing her boyfriend’s hand and tugging him along after her. She squeezed, trying to be reassuring.

His hand was clammy.

She gave him a small push, urging him towards the host’s stand where a stout, balding, middle-aged man was standing and looking up at Bill White. Will walked closer, his steps uncertain. He leaned over the stand, and the host’s attention focused onto him.

The host’s manner changed completely. “Yes, yes, of course the table is ready, Sir!” He stood up straighter, his manner becoming even more formal. “Right this way!” He started off towards the back end of the restaurant, walking past the overhead track lighting past a series of booths, tables, and nautical-themed paintings at a slow enough pace that he could be easily followed until he disappeared behind a wall.

Will’s father set off after him immediately, pulling Will’s mother along once more without looking back or physically touching her.

Alaina walked up to Will and poked him in the side. “Wake up.”

Will started, then gave her a nervous grin. “Sorry, I’m trying. It’s...” His grin wavered.

She linked her hand with his and started forward, walking only slightly ahead of him. “Remember what I said,” she called back in a gentle voice as she squeezed his hand and ran her thumb over it.

Mrs. White was already sliding into her seat at the private table of Tiff’s mother when they arrived.

Bill White stood next to the bench seat on the opposite side of the booth from his wife, facing the entrance and showing the same smile as before while he watched them approach.

Alaina blinked. I expected power plays, but this seems excessive. She felt a tugging on her bag.

“I’ll get that for you,” Will said, stepping past her.

She released the bag.

Will hung the bag off the coatrack next to the table on a hook on the opposite side from his parents’ coats, then slid into the seat next to his father. He grimaced slightly, just for a moment as he was seating himself when he reached the wall. His father slid in after him, taking the aisle seat.

Alaina sat next to his Will’s mother, across from his father.

“The chef will be by in a couple minutes,” the host said. “Please enjoy.” He fled with haste.

The table was silent for a moment.

Bill White spoke first. “I must confess, I wasn’t sure who to expect tonight,” he remarked, looking slowly between the two teenagers.

“Oh?” Alaina said, accepting his opener.

Will stared at the table in front of him.

Mrs. White looked on with rapt attention.

“I’m sure you know how young men of my son’s age can be,” Will’s father said, sounding only slightly patronizing. “The two of you were together last Monday, but then by Wednesday, William was once again seeing ... What was her name? The blonde girl?” He stroked his chin for a moment. “Ah, yes, Laura. Quite an attractive girl, too, so I can’t say I blame him. A pity. I was anticipating making her acquaintance after all this time.” He paused for a moment, and his lips quirked upwards slightly on one side. “That Quirk of hers sounds most fascinating.”

Will’s jaw clenched slightly.

Mrs. White had no reaction.

Fuck, he knows about Laura? Alaina felt a shiver run through her. Ugh, I forgot how creepy he was somehow. I’m sure meeting Laura would include an offer to become his assistant, too.

I’ll never let something like that happen to her.

Ever.

I’m sorry, Laura. I’ll make it up to you. Somehow. I’ll be better.

“Mr. White,” Alaina said, showing an unperturbed smile. “It might be a little shocking to hear, but things are a little different from how they were when you and Mrs. White were ... so passionately in love before your wedding. For a catch like your son, having two girlfriends isn’t that unusual. Isn’t that right, Will?” She looked over at her boyfriend.

“Uh ... Yes, that’s true,” Will said, continuing to stare at the table. His brow furrowed after a moment as he realized what he’d just agreed to.

This seating is the worst. I can’t even kick him without it being incredibly obvious.

“Hm,” Bill White said. He adjusted his watch.

“Good evening, my name is Bryan,” said a portly old man with a mustache as he pulled up to the table. “This is Martin, he’ll be your server,” he said, gesturing to a short, younger man wearing a stylish band around his forehead who was standing next to him. Martin began industriously flipping over and filling the glasses on the table with water from a clear, crystalline pitcher.

“I’m a level thirty eight [Poissonier]—my second Class,” Bryan continued with a proud smile, “and I’d like to personally thank you all for deciding to come here tonight. I’m responsible for selecting the menu for your five course meal, and I’ll be personally preparing all of your courses except for desserts, which Wendy, our level seventeen [Pâtisserie]—also her second Class—will be arranging fresh for your enjoyment.

“Each dish comes with a complement of wine that I believe will add a certain je ne sais quoi. For the younger couple,” the [Poissonier] glanced at Will and Alaina, “we’ll bring out grape juice as a substitute.” He gave them an apologetic look. “I do apologize for that.”

Bryan surveyed the table. “Does anyone have any questions before we get started, or are there any allergies that I need to be aware of?”

The table was silent for a moment.

“Are you forgetting something, perhaps?” Bill White asked, a perplexed look on his face.

The chef turned to regard him. “Am I?” He turned to the younger man. “I didn’t forget anything, did I?”

The waiter grinned mischievously.

“The course list?” Bill White said. He raised his glass of water and took a small sip.

The mischievous grin spread to Bryan’s face. “I do apologize, Sir, but the young miss has given me explicit instructions not to reveal the menu ahead of time.”

Bill White’s expression grew cramped.

Nice touch, Tiff! Alaina grinned widely up at the chef. “A little mystery sounds exciting! I’m eager to see what you’ve selected for us.”

“I hope you’ll enjoy it,” Bryan said, looking over the table one last time with a twinkle in his eye. “The first course will arrive at the perfect time,” he declared. “I’ll check in on you at the end of the meal. Until then.”

He departed along with the waiter.

That line about the timing must have been Tiff’s doing, too. Will’s father looks so uncomfortable. Naturally he’d be a control freak.

“How intriguing,” Bill White said after a moment, looking over at Alaina. “I believe I’ve got a handle on things.” He glanced at his watch. “Still, I would never have imagined someone like you could accept playing second fiddle to this Laura girl,” he remarked as though commenting on the weather while he unfolded the napkin on his plate and placed it on his lap.

Second fiddle?! Alaina opened her mouth to retort that she most certainly was not a second fiddle to—She caught herself just in time. That was close. “Mr. White, Laura and I are close friends.” Or at least, we will be. I won’t let you be alone anymore. I will be better. “My mother is also quite fond of her.”

“Is that so?” Bill White said, grimacing ever so slightly.

“It is,” Alaina pressed on. “In fact, they’re probably eating dinner together right now.”

“It seems like you’re a very lucky man, William,” Bill White said, suddenly turning his attention to his son. “You know, you remind me of myself when I was your age.”

“Thank you, Father,” Will said, fiddling absently with his napkin.

Argh, Will, snap out of it already! I need to get his attention somehow. A distraction or—

“Thanks so much for your patience,” Martin said, bustling over with a tray held high over his head, a folding table hanging off his arm. He set up the table next to their booth, placing the tray on top of it. “To start you off,” he continued, gesturing to the quartet of plates he’d carried over before starting to set them in front of each of the diners, “the chef has prepared a yellowtail sashimi with champagne gelee and smoked sesame.”

A small dish was placed in front of Alaina containing a series of pale, upright slices of yellowtail fish. The slices were coated liberally with browned sesame seeds and bits of green onion, and it stuck together due to a coating of the gelee. A separate mass of extra gelee was set to the side, artistically arranged with decorative greens.

Alaina used the moment to carefully but determinedly kick Will under the crowded table.

Twice.

“—spending has been less than usual over the past few weeks,” Bill White said, looking at Will. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been spoiling both of your girlfriends appropriately? Remember what I’ve taught you about that, William.”

Mrs. White sipped her rosé.

“Er, yeah, I remember. It’s not really a problem.” Will glanced up at his father, then over at Alaina. “Is it?”

“I feel almost indecently pampered when we’re together, Will,” Alaina said, casting a longing look in his direction. Watching Will get dating advice from his father isn’t what I expected. Even if the advice has been almost entirely related to spending money on girls. At least he’s not as much of a robot anymore. His leg must be sore.

She eyed Will’s mother out of the corner of her vision. Is she really just going to sit there and not say a word all night?

I wonder how Laura’s doing, too.

“I’m back with your second course,” Martin said, setting up his folding table once again and placing his tray on top of it. “Next we have a lacquered lobster tail with a tagliatelle roll on a black truffle emulsion and topped with sliced black truffle...”

I almost feel like Tiff ripped me off on Friday. We got such simple dishes, but everything that comes out now is like something out of a three star restaurant. Or this is what I imagine it would be like, anyway.

Mmm, it was so good then, though. Even if it was simple.

But that black truffle was so rich just now!

“Alaina,” Bill White said, rousing her from her food fantasies without preamble, “I couldn’t help but notice this afternoon that your updated CEA database entry has a very different Skill listed than what I personally witnessed last week. That seems a little unusual for someone who has only had her Class for a couple weeks, doesn’t it?”

Alaina blinked. What. Then her eyes widened against her will as she realized the implication of what he’d said. Oh fuck!

“What was it now,” he continued, rubbing his chin as he stared upwards. “You were immune to my Skill—or was it all Skills? You changed the temperature of your hand—or perhaps a variation of the hand-vibrating Skill in your listing?” His eyes met hers again, transfixing her back to the booth’s cushion. “No, that’s not how physics works, so it would have to be a second Skill. In less than two weeks, at that. How fascinating!”

Alaina glanced at Will, who was openly staring at his father in horror. Her boyfriend’s mouth opened briefly, then snapped shut again. She felt a sudden bead of sweat roll down between her shoulders and realized that she’d become hyper-aware of her breathing.

“You were so composed that night, too,” Mr. White said, not letting up. He smirked. “I’d almost think you had some sort of Trait that gave you unshakable poise if it weren’t for your reaction now.” He grinned at her then, a cruel mockery of Will’s playful grin. “You seem surprised, Alaina. Surely you must have known what would happen if you were showing off like that in public?” He chuckled, a slightly deeper, raspy version of Will’s. “Did you think you were at your school that night, where people would be too inexperienced and naive to comprehend what was going on around them?” He leaned forward ever so slightly in his seat, his grin widening. “Did you think it was a victory? That you’d what, swooped in to make a daring rescue?” He laughed again, with derision.

Alaina’s hands trembled in her lap, but she couldn’t find the words to reply. Her stomach churned. Eating with Will’s father suddenly seems like a terrible idea, just like Mom said. She felt a small shiver of fear run through her and eyed her bag, which held her phone, hanging just past Mr. White against the wall. His eyes met hers once more when she looked back, and his grin widened.

“I see you’re in the middle of something, but I’ll be out of your hair in just a minute,” said Martin, arriving once again at the perfect time. “Your third course,” he said as he set up his folding table and put the tray down on top of it, “is the main. Grilled Hawaiian walu and seared Japanese Wagyu beef with a roasted squash roll, completed with a spiced red wine sauce.” He passed out the plates efficiently, collecting the emptied dishes with an equal economy of motion. “And I’ll be back with your wine in a moment,” he said, collapsing the table once more and holding it under his arm, the plate of empty dishes in his hand. “Are you enjoying everything so far?”

“It’s tremendous,” said Mr. White, giving a pleased smile that crinkled his eyes.

Martin beamed. “Happy to hear it. Remember, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to press the button on the far side of the table between the young gentleman and his sister.” He disappeared.

“I like him,” said Mrs. White, the first words she’d spoken since they entered. She finished the wine in her glass and set it on the table in front of her.

A moment later, her wine glass—as well as Mr. White’s half-full glass—vanished. They were replaced with full glasses of a noticeably darker wine.

At no point was Alaina able to see their waiter. She tried not to stare at the glasses which had appeared on the table.

“He’s certainly talented,” Mr. White agreed. “I never expected to see such high-rank waiter Skills in such a tiny restaurant. Especially not one so close by.”

That’s a Skill? Can he turn invisible?

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen this before,” Mr. White said, watching her with amusement while he sliced into his beef. He took a small bite, then gave his plate an appraising look.

Alaina looked at Will, who seemed undisturbed by the incident, continuing to eye his father warily.

“As I was saying, however,” Mr. White said after he’d patted his mouth with his napkin, “it sure was bold of you to do something like that so publicly. Imagine my surprise when none of the [Detector] specialists they employ had noticed any Skills being used after I’d made an inquiry later on.”

Alaina stared at her plate. I can’t believe I was so stupid! I didn’t even think about security cameras or anything that night!

“At least try the Wagyu, girl,” Mr. White said, cutting himself another small piece of the beef. “It’s slightly better than I anticipated.”

“My walu is too dry,” Mrs. White remarked. She took a long draw from her wine. “Ooh,” the older woman giggled. “I daresay this wine makes up for it.”

Alaina carved a piece off her beef and put it in her mouth. Need to come up with some way to deny this. Maybe I can claim it’s all a single Skill? No, that’ll never work. I don’t want to drag Mom into it yet; that’s more of a last resort since I don’t know how he’ll react. Also I guess he hasn’t actually done anything yet besides talk? Argh, he’s so similar to Will in some ways!

She raised her fork containing a small hunk of beef to her mouth. This Wagyu beef is pretty good. I wish I could enjoy it more.

“That’s the problem with children these days,” Mr. White lamented. He cut a chunk of his walu off and pierced it squarely in the middle with a precise thrust of his fork. He chewed the piece of fish mechanically—strategically—then swallowed as he turned his gaze to his wife, who raised an eyebrow as well as her glass of wine. “Hm.” He pushed the remainder of the fish to the edge of his plate.

Mr. White sighed and shook his head. “The problem with children,” he said, turning his gaze back towards Alaina, “is that they lack discipline. They do things to show off without thinking of the consequences.” He raised his fork and stabbed it into another piece of Wagyu that he’d separated off. “Consequences for themselves and for their families,” he said, giving her a meaningful look as he brought his fork to his mouth once more.

Alaina’s palms were sweaty, her breathing faster. He has such a presence. It’s like everything else he does: the opposite of Will. It feels like it’s actually harder to breathe somehow. She blinked for the first time in the past several minutes, then cut off a piece of fish to try while her thoughts whirled.

“William, you would never do something like that, would you,” Mr. White said rhetorically once he’d swallowed, not looking over at his son. “No, I’ve taught you to be better than that.” He checked his watch.

Alaina’s nostrils flared. Taught him? You broke him.

“Now, I consider myself an equitable man, Alaina,” Mr. White continued, driving the last piece of his Wagyu through the remaining red sauce with his fork. “I’ll give you an opportunity to impress me first. What do you imagine I’ll do with this knowledge? This suspicion that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, so to speak? Think carefully.” He placed the last piece of his beef into his mouth and chewed with his usual machine-like precision.

What do I imagine he’ll do? Alaina frowned. What will he do? Why is he even bringing this up at all? Wouldn’t he have already... Her eyes widened.

“I have been known as a man who seizes the initiative,” Mr. White said, giving her another ruthless smile as though he’d been reading her mind. “Consider everything I’ve told you, however. Do you really think me so simple?”