I know this guy named George. I swear he has to be the luckiest guy I know. Let me tell you a little bit about him. He's pretty average, about 5 '7", dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, a few extra pounds that don't show much unless you happened to see him with his shirt off. We're not related (George is my last name, and it's his first name.) I don't know what he's packing in those jeans he likes to wear, but I swear that thing has a good luck charm on it. Let me give you an example...
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(This is the second story involving George and Anya. The first is The Commuter Train Incident and introduces both George and Anya.)
It was another train ride for George and Anya, the end of a busy day and a busy work week. Both were relieved to be done with the week, relating their stories to each other and keeping up the facade of innocent seatmates. A week and a half had passed since that first encounter, and while George was very interested in seeing what was to come, Anya had made it clear that she was running the game and so he waited patiently. Okay, maybe not quite that patiently because he'd rubbed one out thinking about their session in the back seat of his truck nearly every night since then. Their ride was about halfway through when Anya slipped her phone into his hand, unlocked and bearing a simple message: "Dinner tonight?"
"Sure," he typed back, "when and where?"
"I'll get off one stop early and meet you at the restaurant up on the hill across from the outlet mall. You go get your truck and I'll wait for you in the bar."
"Okay, I'll see you there." He handed the phone back to her and kept up his part of the conversation about his workday, her workday, and the trials and tribulations that they had dealt with. By this time they both recognized the names of each other's co-workers and had a reasonable idea of what each other did for work, so the narratives might have seemed confusing to an outsider, but to them it was easy to follow. The ride passed with very few incidents (a minor miracle for that line on a Friday afternoon commute) and soon enough it was time for Anya to make her exit.
"See you on Monday!" she said to him as she walked down the aisle to the door. George forced himself not to stare after her as she walked away. 10 minutes later he got off of the train at the end of the line and drove back to the restaurant. Parking in that lot was always a challenge because it was designed for cars that would fit in the bed of his truck, but he managed to find a spot where he could pull through and effectively take up two spots nearly entirely and without having to jockey the truck around to get in or out. This was certainly a good omen as far as he was concerned, and he strode into the restaurant with a smile on his face. At the hostess' station he told the young lady that he was meeting someone in the bar and she waved him on through. There were already a few people waiting for tables, so this probably meant that they would eat in the bar, but that was fine with him. George disliked taking up a booth or table by himself, so the bar seats were very familiar to him. Anya caught his eye from across the room and waited for him to arrive and take the stool on her far side. The bartender glanced over at them and Anya nodded at her.
"So here we are." George said to Anya.
"Here we are. I think this is a good way to end a tough week, don't you?" she smiled at him. Right about then the bartender sat down a glass of red wine in front of Anya, and a pint of amber-colored beer in front of George. Anya nodded her thanks, picked up her glass, and lifted it for a toast. "To the end of the week!"
"To the end of the week!" George echoed her and clinked his glass to hers and both took a sizable drink. His favorite south of the border import always went down well and he was impressed that she remembered his preference from a conversation months ago. "You remembered! Thank you very much!"
"You're very welcome. Do you know what I'm drinking?"
"If this place has it, your favorite red, which is..." he thought for a second and then came up with the brand and variety.
"Good," she smiled at him. "Do you mind if we eat here at the bar?"
"I don't mind a bit, but if you're looking to stay out of sight, the table in the corner just opened up." he motioned back over his shoulder with his head. She turned her eyes to follow. The little pub height table was small enough that it barely fit the two plates that were left on it by the former occupants, and there was another table between it and the nearest window. The lighting wasn't all that great in that corner, looking like it was just barely enough to see a menu without using the flashlight on your phone.
"I was hoping that we'd get that one but it was full when I got here so I settled for the bar. Let's go grab it before someone else tries to get it," she grabbed her glass and started walking that way. George quickly grabbed his and followed her. By the time they had slipped into the tall chairs a bus person was there to clear the plates, followed very closely by a young lady with menus. "Can we transfer my bar tab, please?" Anya asked.
"Of course!" said the young lady and headed for the bar. George was hungry, and not just for food, but it would do to start the night.
"Light or heavy?" George asked Anya.
"As long as it doesn't slow you down, eat whatever you want. I'm having the filet." Anya told him over another sip of wine. She hadn't even looked at the menu.
"I was thinking about the ribeye, but that's a lot of meat. Maybe the strip would be better." George pondered aloud as Anya sipped her wine. He sat silent for a minute, then looked up at her and asked, "May I order for you?" She raised her eyebrows at him for a moment, then nodded her assent. He put the menu down, took a drink of his beer, and waited patiently for the attention of the waitstaff. Soon enough a young gentleman arrived.
"Hi! I'm Tyler and I'll be taking care of you tonight. I see we have a bar tab going. What can I get you to go along with that?"
"The lady will have the filet, medium rare, with rice pilaf and the vegetable medley. I'll have the strip steak, medium, mashed potatoes, no gravy, and the vegetable medley."
"Would you like a salad with either of those?"
"No, thank you."
"Alrighty then, those should be out in about 10 minutes. Refill on those drinks?"
"The wine for the lady, yes, please. I'll switch to water after this beer is done, thank you."
"Certainly. Lemon with that?"
"No, thank you. Just regular ice water is fine, thank you."
"You're welcome," and with that and a smile, Tyler departed for another table. George turned to look at Anya over his beer as he took another drink. She looked back at him and waited until he had set the glass down and swallowed his beer.
"Who trained you?" she asked.
"'Trained' me?"
"Yes. Who trained you? You say you've never been married, and that you've only had two relationships of any length, so who trained you?"
"In being a gentleman, you mean?"
"Yes."
"My mother taught me to be a gentleman when I was very young. I opened doors and held them for her, handled chairs for her, and in general did what she taught me to do and not to do. The rest, like ordering for the lady, but only with her permission, I've learned through the years by studying old British movies and watching interviews with butlers. Listening and remembering are key to my work, so that part was easy. Now, please forgive my asking, but did I make an acceptable order for you?"
