Across the other side of the city in upper-side New York, next to Central Park, was the restaurant where the who's who of celebrities dined. L'Avis was the number one restaurant in New York, where even A-list celebrities struggled to get on the list. It was an elegant dining experience headed by the number one chef in New York, Marco Blanc—a Michelin-star chef renowned for his elegant, sophisticated dishes and discreet dining.
"Can I take this blindfold off now?" Mavis asked as she began to grow impatient.
"Not yet, we're nearly there," Derrick said. "Just have a little bit more patience."
As the black Maybach rolled up outside of L'Avis, the driver just sat there staring as top NBA, MLS, and tennis stars entered the beautiful dining establishment. The driver's finger pressed into the circular power button, cutting the engine dead, and Mavis's heart began to race with all the possibilities of where they were.
The driver's side door opened first and out stepped a mountain of a man—a beast in casual clothing. He stood six-foot-nine, bald-headed, with arms thicker than a head and a chest so wide his fitted black shirt barely hung on for dear life. His black trousers were sharp, his loafers freshly polished, and his walk—you could distinguish that anywhere—was military.
He walked around the car towards the back passenger side and stood there like a bodyguard should, looking around to make sure it was safe for Derrick to step outside. Once he established everything was fine, he opened up the car door and out stepped Derrick.
He was dressed to the nines: a beautiful black and white tuxedo, diamond earrings, and the cuffs to match. He dusted a speck of dust off of his right shoulder, then let out a slow breath like the city didn't even deserve his time tonight.
He turned towards the car, leaned down, then reached in to grab Mavis's hand. Still blindfolded, she followed his lead out of the car. And there she was, standing there like she belonged to royalty. Her burgundy dress fit her body like a second skin, with a slit riding up the side just enough to turn heads without trying, and the heels to match. Her hair was curled to perfection, earrings catching the streetlights; she was straight elegance personified.
Derrick let go of her hand, stepped behind her, and placed his hands behind her head. "You ready?" he asked.
Mavis let out a nervous sigh as her hands began twitching by her sides. "Come on, Derrick, just take it off."
Derrick laughed for a moment then began to smile as he undid the strap on the back of Mavis's blindfold. She blinked four times as her eyes opened slowly, then the name of the restaurant, which was once nothing but a blur, was clear in bold letters.
"Derrick… no you didn't," she said, hand over her mouth, trying to contain the smile creeping out.
"I did," he replied, cool as ever. "You deserve the best of the best."
"Stop it. You're making me blush," she said, walking with him toward the doors.
The second they reached the front, the host by the podium caught sight of Derrick and froze. Eyes wide. Mouth open. He backed up a step and ran inside without saying a word.
He pushed through the kitchen doors like his life depended on it. "DERRICK'S HERE! Derrick's here!" he yelled.
The kitchen went dead silent. A pot dropped to the floor and one of the chefs turned white.
"Derrick who?" the head chef asked, turning around.
"Derrick Greene."
The chef swallowed hard. "Oh, hell no… everyone stop what you're doing—right now!" Knives hit the boards. Pans came off the heat and the kitchen moved like a military unit.
"I want my best dishes on that line. Fresh cuts. Flawless plates. Everything needs to be cooked to perfection, do you hear me?!"
"Yes, sir!" the chefs echoed in unison, then went straight to work.
The manager, who was sitting in the side office, overheard Derrick's name and came rushing out, nearly choking on his coffee. "Did I hear Derrick's name?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, he's with his wife," the host said, face flushed red as he stood there not knowing what to do.
"Then why are you still standing here?" he snapped, standing up and grabbing his blazer. "Table for two. Move… now!"
The manager fixed his collar, popped a mint, and breathed into his palm to check his breath, then marched straight through the kitchen, fixing his blazer on the way out.
By the time he hit the front door, Derrick was already standing there, Mavis on his arm like a queen.
The manager forced a smile, smoothing out every crease from his shirt like it mattered. "Mr. and Mrs. Greene," he said, voice steady but eyes wide. "It's an honor to have you both with us tonight."
Derrick nodded, chest out. "The honor's all mine." He turned slightly to Mavis. "This is my wife."
The manager smiled. "A queen fit for a king, I see."
"Oh, stop it," Mavis said, blushing just a little.
"Please," the manager said, stepping aside, "allow me to escort you myself."
They stepped through the doors like royalty. They walked through the restaurant, passing celebrity after celebrity as if it were nothing but an everyday occurrence.
Mavis tapped Derrick's shoulder repeatedly as they passed each table. "Derrick," she said excitedly, "that's NBA star Mike Jones!" And when she looked to her right, she saw tennis star Anna Cole. "You've got to be kidding me, Derrick. Anna Cole is here tonight. I'm in the same restaurant as Anna Cole—pinch me!"
The manager led them past more tables and, as they got closer to the back, Mavis noticed her favorite soul singer, Jenna Baker, sitting two tables across from the table the manager showed them to.
They sat down and Mavis began to breathe in and out heavily, her hands beginning to shake.
"What's wrong?" Derrick asked, a look of concern etched across his features.
She looked over to Jenna, trying to be discreet. "You do know that's Jenna Baker, right? Only the number one soul singer of all time. I'm her number one fan."
"Oh, really?" Derrick said, smiling from ear to ear. Turning his head towards the manager, he asked, "I don't mean to be a pest, but if you could tell Jenna two tables over that Derrick's here, and if she didn't mind, would she be able to come and say hello to my wife?"
"Sure thing," the manager said, then headed over to Jenna's table.
Mavis hung her head low and raised her hand to cover her eyes. "How embarrassing is this? Imagine if she says no—I'll be devastated."
"Don't worry, Mav," Derrick shot back. "I'm sure it will all be fine."
As the manager arrived at Jenna's table, her face scrunched as she looked at his empty hands.
"I told the waiter I wanted a glass of your L'Andana five minutes ago. Where is it?" Jenna demanded.
The manager looked at Jenna, frightened. Now second-guessing his decision to come over, he contemplated whether he should handle Derrick's request. But she was already disgruntled and Derrick seemed like he knew her, so he thought maybe he could get out of a pickle.
"I'm sorry for the poor service you received tonight, Jenna. It is simply not on, nor is it the L'Avis way. Your food and drink are on us tonight."
"Thank you. Now if you don't mind fetching me that glass of wine now, I'm parched."
The manager signaled for one of his waiters to come over. "A bottle of L'Andana, immediately!" he snapped, clicking his finger then pointing for the waiter to head towards the bar.
"I'm sorry about that, Jenna. Oh, and before I forget, there is a man—his name is Derrick Greene—he said he knows you."
Jenna's whole demeanor changed; her face began to light up like a Christmas tree. "Derrick Greene? Where is he? Where is he?" she asked impatiently as she rose from her seat.
"He's two tables to the right," the manager said, "next to the window."
Jenna squeezed out from around the table and out of her booth, then walked as fast as she could to see Derrick. Still smiling, the first thing she saw was the top of his bald head and she began to laugh.
"I guess nothing's changed there," she said, catching Derrick's attention.
Derrick turned around. "Jenna, my old friend! It's good to see you, it's been far too long."
Mavis's head rose from the table. Her mouth opened and her head twisted ever so slightly to the side. "Old friend?" she repeated, shocked to hear those words.
"Yeah, me and Jenna go way back, honey."
"Derrick helped me when I was on the come-up," Jenna continued. "I was tied down to a garbage deal and struggling to make a living. The label was making a lot of money off me but I wasn't seeing a dime. Derrick was connected to a good friend of mine, Michael Porter, and heard what was going on. He booked a meeting with my record label and, I kid you not, in the next three days I was a free lady."
"Oh, wow," Mavis said as she listened diligently.
"But the thing about it was, Derrick didn't want anything in return," Jenna continued. "Just for me to continue to do what I do best: music. He didn't ask for a penny. So when Derrick Greene, my good old friend, is in town, I have to see him."
"Oh wow, you're far too kind," Derrick said. "I only did what I felt was right."
"No, you did what a lot of people wouldn't have done if they were in your position, and I will continue to sing your praises until the end of my days."
"Thank you. I was wondering if you could do me a favor?" he asked.
"Sure, anything for you," Jenna said, smiling at Derrick and Mavis.
"You see, it only became new to me today that my wife was your biggest fan. So I was wondering if you didn't mind giving her your autograph?"
Mavis sat there, mouth open, her top teeth clenched together with her left eye completely shut in embarrassment.
"I'll do one better. You still got the same number?" Jenna asked.
"Yeah, I've still got the same number."
"Well then, this is what we'll do. I'll have my manager send you a signed gift hamper, and at the next concert, I'll have him send out VIP tickets. How does that sound?"
"Amazing, Jenna, thank you," Derrick said as he looked on smugly at Mavis.
"Now then, I'll leave you two lovebirds to carry on with your night. And Derrick, don't be a stranger," she said as she turned on her heels and headed back toward her table.
Derrick turned to the waiter who stood there waiting patiently. "Your finest bottle," he said, cold and casual.
"Yes, sir. Right away."
The manager dipped his head and disappeared like smoke.
Now they were alone. A candle burned between them. The city lights behind Mavis made the diamonds in her ears dance. It looked like the skyline was built just for her.
She leaned forward a little, her elbow on the table, swirling a strand of hair around her finger.
"Derrick Greene," she said with a slow smile. "You really outdid yourself this time."
He smirked. "Why, thank you, Mrs. Greene. Anything for my queen."
She rolled her eyes, laughing. "Still as smooth as the first day we met."
He reached across the table and locked fingers with her. For a moment, everything else disappeared: the stress, the noise, the city. It was just them.
They sat in silence, letting the moment marinate as the candle continued to burn.
"You know I've been thinking…" Derrick started.
Mavis raised an eyebrow. "That's dangerous."
He chuckled. "Nah, I'm serious. We don't do this enough. Just… us."
She nodded slowly, the laughter in her eyes fading to something softer. "Yeah. Life's been moving too fast lately. You're always out late. I'm always exhausted by the time you get in." She sighed, playing with her hair again. "Come to think of it… we haven't even had a proper argument in months. Who would've thought? The thing I hated the most… ended up being the thing I started missing. How wrong is that?"
Derrick didn't say anything. He just stared, seeing her pain slowly reveal itself from behind the curtain—the stuff hidden behind smiles and busy days.
"Maybe we're growing up," he joked.
Mavis gave him a look. "Or maybe we're losing track of what really matters."
Then the waiter came over with the wine and filled up their glasses. Derrick, after the waiter left, leaned back and picked up his glass. "That's why I did this. Tonight. You deserve more than stolen minutes and tired conversations."
Then, as the pair stared at each other, not saying a word, the food came: pasta dressed like art, herb-rubbed lamb fresh off the grill, steam rising like smoke signals. The waiter placed it down with care, nodded, and left.
Derrick picked up his fork, then paused mere centimeters away from stabbing the lamb. "You know something?" he said.
"What?"
"I watch you. When you're not looking. The way you hold it all together: the house, the kids, me." He looked down at his plate for a second. "You never complain. Never guilt-trip me. You just keep holding it down."
Mavis blinked, her food untouched.
"I don't always say it right. But I see you. And I appreciate you."
She leaned back, arms folded, trying not to smile. "You trying to get lucky tonight?"
He laughed, loud and full, and there was that smile she loved—the one she fell in love with.
"Nah," he said. "I'm saying I love you. And I see you."
Mavis raised her glass. "You damn right you do."
They clinked, soft crystal meeting soft firelight.
From there, it flowed. They talked about Kieran's obsession with comic books, Leon's new habit of falling asleep sideways, and how Mavis had been hiding his snacks just to watch him struggle on top shelves.
Then dessert came: a velvet chocolate tart, one plate, two forks.
Just as Mavis went for the first bite… Derrick's phone started vibrating on the table. It kept jumping as it buzzed, like it was begging to be answered.
"Are you just going to leave that to buzz, or are you going to actually answer it?" Mavis said as she held her fork in her fingers. "It's Jenny. It's clearly work and I can tell you want to answer it, so answer it."
"It's only Jenny. I'm sure whatever it is she wants, it can wait," he said as he tried his hardest not to look down at the phone. And when the buzzing stopped, he breathed a sigh of relief, then picked up his fork and stabbed it into the velvet cake, making sure to take a small piece. But that moment of relief didn't last long. Derrick's phone started to vibrate again, but this time it didn't stop; it just kept vibrating and vibrating.
"Derrick, you should probably answer it. Clearly she's not going to stop ringing, so just do us all a favor and answer," she said with a stern face.
Derrick slid his finger across the green call button and the call connected. "Jenny, this better be important. What part of 'I told you I'm not taking calls tonight' didn't you understand? I told you I'm with my wife tonight."
"I know, boss. I'm sorry. But this couldn't wait," Jenny replied. "It's Robert. If I would have waited until the morning to tell you this, you wouldn't have been happy."
He knew what she was going to tell him the second she said the name Robert. The writing was already on the wall. He was on the up, legit money coming in, and didn't need Derrick and his bosses' money anymore. But before Derrick flipped his lid, he needed to hear it out loud first.