The address turned out to be a small bistro. As he got out of his car and gave the keys to the valet, he noticed a message on the “Daily Specials” board in chalk, “CVA71: Chateaubriand for 2. Bottle of House Red. Private Booth. $75”
The only odd part of the deal was the title, his chat room username, “CVA71.” Shrugging it off, he thought to himself, “I shouldn’t be here at all. I doubt I could afford a side salad and water.”
He also felt a little underdressed for this place, but it seemed to be slow, with no other patrons about. He asked the maître d’ for a table.
The maître d’ escorted him to an open table near the kitchen doors in the back of the restaurant. Charlie thought for a moment, and awkwardly mumbled, “I wonder, sir, if I could get a private booth? I am expecting company, I think.”
“D’accord, bien sûr,” the maître d’ replied, “This way, sir.”
“Er, uh, thank you.”
Charlie opened the menu and gasped at the prices when he noticed a yellow slip of paper with a hand-written note upon it, “I told you what to order, you don’t need this menu. Close it and make your order.”
Charlie looked about, trying to guess who was leading him on this wild goose hunt, surely it had been 69Ace, whoever she really was, but he saw no women about, and began to wonder if she really was a she at all.
After crunching a few numbers in his head, he decided he would play along, even though it would cost him a month’s worth of his morning coffee. He close his menu and laid it down, casting about for a waiter or waitress.
Attracting one’s attention, he placed the order, “I’d like the CVA71 Special.”
The waitress just gave him a quizzical look, arching an eyebrow.
“The chateaubriand for 2 with a bottle of wine? House red? On the board out front. Yes?”
The waitress shrugged, took the menu, and smiled. Then made her way through the restaurant dropping the order in the kitchen, and the bar before heading toward the front door. His gaze followed her everywhere, even as she came back to the table. “Today’s Special is braised lamb. How did you want your steak?”
“Medium-rare, please.”
“Butter and sour cream on your potatoes?”
“Yes, please.”
“Wonderful, you’re wine will be right out, unless you’d prefer to wait for the other party?”
“No, now will be fine. I’m not sure when she’ll be here.”
“Very good,” she said with a polite smile and turned back to the bar.
A sommelier came and presented the wine, offered the cork, and poured a splash into Charlie’s glass. Charlie felt quite sheepish, but swirled and sipped, as he’d seen done in movies and the like, nodding his approval to the waiter.
The waitress delivered a small salad and cruets of oil & vinegar, Charlie looked about for a sign, and seeing nothing new, ate his salad and sipped his wine. When the waitress came back to clear his plate, he asked if he might have a basket of rolls of bread, and “of course he could,” the waitress assured him as she bustled off again.
Charlie nibbled on bread and sipped his wine, still waiting. Finally, the main entrée arrived, and still, 69Ace was nowhere to be seen, as far as he knew. As he set to carving the large steak for two, he noticed someone sit down across from him. He stopped and looked up.