Tears on a Sunday Afternoon - Michael Presley [36]
My phone chimed and it was a text message from Julie. “Brian, it’s time to start over. Julie’s on her way to the restaurant.”
Honeysuckle Café was a new restaurant located in the western end of Brooklyn. It was the only soul food restaurant that served only brunch and dinner in Brooklyn. The parking lot was manned by a uniformed armed guard who directed my car into the half-full parking lot. I pulled up between a blue Jaguar and a white Cadillac Escalade. I turned the engine off, putting an end to a Strickly the Best CD that Brian had popped into the sound system.
There were two huge pillars painted in red, yellow and green with an entrance sign between them. The rest of the building was multicolored in red, yellow, green and black.
“This is different,” Brian said as we walked toward the pillars.
“The black man is doing his thing. This is no Flatbush. Somebody paid a few dollars to build this,” I said, walking up to an attendant dressed in a white shirt and black pants standing at a huge mahogany door.
“Good afternoon, Gentlemen. Party of two?” He held the door for us to enter.
Brian placed a few dollar bills in the man’s hand. “Our company is already inside.”
“Thank you, Sir,” the attendant said as the money disappeared into his pocket.
“You’re being generous today,” I said to Brian as the attendant eased the door shut.
Brian searched the room for Julie. “In spite of all the ups and downs, it’s still a good life.”
Anyone who knew anything about restaurants would have quickly concluded that this was an expensive one. There was ample spacing between the tables, instead of them being scrunched together like normal, economical restaurants. The tables were made of high quality wood and the clear table coverings ensured that diners could admire their beauty. I alerted Brian when I spotted Julie waving her napkin. We pointed in her direction and the maitre d’ escorted us to where she was seated.
“Two brothers, over six feet tall, physically fit and dressed to impress; you two attract a lot of attention.” Julie laughed. “Most of the women, and some of the men too, all had their eyes fixed on you.”
“Julie, you’re not right,” Brian said, kissing her on the lips.
I followed by kissing her on the cheek. “Yeah, Julie, the women checking me out I could deal with, but then you had to spoil it with the men comment,” I said, pulling my chair out.
“Get real, guys. We’re in 2006. If there’s a woman looking at you, I’ll bet you anything there’s a man doing the same.”
Brian shook his head. “Maybe we should change the conversation.”
I picked up the menu. “I’m extremely hungry.”
“This is my third time eating here. Everything on the menu is good,” Julie said.
“Well, I want breakfast. I think number ten has everything I’m looking for.” Brian pointed at his menu.
“Honey, do you think you want all that cholesterol? The omelet is made with four eggs,” Julie remarked, rubbing Brian on the right knee.
I looked around. “Where’s the waitress?”
“I asked her to give us some extra time,” Julie replied.
“Julie, I’ve never seen this side of you. You’re a control freak, aren’t you? Watch out, Brian.”
Julie gave me that I-don’t-believe-you-said-that look. “Donald!”
To me, she was the most beautiful woman in the restaurant. I engaged her eyes with mine, making an unspoken plea for her affection.
“Guys, I want to make a toast.” Brian lifted his glass of water. “Cheers to my friend Donald, for introducing me to the woman that I now consider my soul mate, the very beautiful Julie Walker.”
Julie was beaming. I felt like Brutus as we clicked glasses. Judas was in this