way into town. It’s got a glass elevator that crawls up the outside of the building and the obligatory rotating restuarant on top. It is, indeed, a little pricey, but I decide to splurge. We’ve already eaten, but coffee and dessert with a spectacular view sounds like just the thing to make me forget the grim little room I’ll be sleeping in tonight.
One interesting thing, though: The security here makes the Clarion’s look like a latched gate. A lem in a tuxedo—one of the white sand lems that seem designed for the service industry—runs two different wands over us, the first one obviously a metal detector, the second one more mystical looking. He finds my gun, of course, and politely asks me what it’s for.
“Sex toy,” I say with a straight face. “I go through a lot of batteries, too.”
If a lem could blush, I’m sure he’d look like he was made out of brick. “Please don’t take it out at the table” is all he says as he hands it back.
There’s a fee just to ride the elevator, but they deduct it from your food bill. The view is as impressive as I thought it would be; we can’t see the mountains now that it’s dark, but the bay is dotted with the lights of ships and the city itself glitters beneath us. Pretty. Almost as pretty as our waiter, a young man with a charmingly shaggy mane and an engaging smile that tells me he’s a pire, not a thrope—
Oh my God.
I’m so busy classifying him that I don’t realize who he is for a full second. And then it’s all I can do to keep from bursting out laughing. It gets worse when he introduces himself, which gets me a puzzled look. He does puzzled very well, which threatens to completely eradicate my last shred of self-control.
“Today’s specials are beef Wellington and ling cod served with an apricot reduction. Our soup is an oxblood bisque. Would you like a drink to start?”
I try not to giggle. I know Eisfanger must be terminally confused right about now, but he’s used to not getting the joke—especially around me—and hides it reasonably well. “I think we’d like to see a dessert menu, actually. And bring us a couple of coffees.”
He smiles. “I’ll have the tray brought around.” He takes our menus and turns to leave.
I can’t resist. “One more thing,” I add.
He turns back. “Yes?”
“Are you by chance an actor?”
His smile is modest, but still very familiar. Sigh. “Actually, yes, I am. Have you seen me in something?”
“Uh … no.” That’s a lie, but a long explanation doesn’t seem worth it. “Your name seems familiar, though. I don’t meet a Keanu every day.”
He nods, glad for the attention but still a little disappointed. “Well, thanks for mentioning it. My agent must be doing something right … I’ll be right back with those coffees.”
When he’s gone, Eisfanger leans forward and say, “What was that all about?”
“The multiverse’s sense of humor. I wonder if I can get him to say, I know kung fu …”
* * *
Charlie calls when he’s downstairs. We go down to meet him rather than have him come up; he says he isn’t inclined to pay the elevator fee, but I get the feeling it’s his weapons he’s reluctant to part with rather than his money. We finish our coffees and I pay for them—and two slices of cheesecake—with a credit card. I could have used cash, but I can’t resist scrawling something across the bottom of the receipt.
Eisfanger reads it over my shoulder. “Take the blue pill? What’s that even mean ?”
“Sorry. The Matrix can’t be explained—only experienced .”
“You are one weird date,” Eisfanger mutters as we get in the elevator.
Charlie’s in the DeSoto, idling at the curb. “Everything okay?” I ask, hopping in the front as Eisfanger gets in the back.
“No problems. Picked up our shadow, took him on a little tour of the east side. Lost him somewhere around Commercial Drive.”
I pull out my phone and call Stoker. He answers on the first
One interesting thing, though: The security here makes the Clarion’s look like a latched gate. A lem in a tuxedo—one of the white sand lems that seem designed for the service industry—runs two different wands over us, the first one obviously a metal detector, the second one more mystical looking. He finds my gun, of course, and politely asks me what it’s for.
“Sex toy,” I say with a straight face. “I go through a lot of batteries, too.”
If a lem could blush, I’m sure he’d look like he was made out of brick. “Please don’t take it out at the table” is all he says as he hands it back.
There’s a fee just to ride the elevator, but they deduct it from your food bill. The view is as impressive as I thought it would be; we can’t see the mountains now that it’s dark, but the bay is dotted with the lights of ships and the city itself glitters beneath us. Pretty. Almost as pretty as our waiter, a young man with a charmingly shaggy mane and an engaging smile that tells me he’s a pire, not a thrope—
Oh my God.
I’m so busy classifying him that I don’t realize who he is for a full second. And then it’s all I can do to keep from bursting out laughing. It gets worse when he introduces himself, which gets me a puzzled look. He does puzzled very well, which threatens to completely eradicate my last shred of self-control.
“Today’s specials are beef Wellington and ling cod served with an apricot reduction. Our soup is an oxblood bisque. Would you like a drink to start?”
I try not to giggle. I know Eisfanger must be terminally confused right about now, but he’s used to not getting the joke—especially around me—and hides it reasonably well. “I think we’d like to see a dessert menu, actually. And bring us a couple of coffees.”
He smiles. “I’ll have the tray brought around.” He takes our menus and turns to leave.
I can’t resist. “One more thing,” I add.
He turns back. “Yes?”
“Are you by chance an actor?”
His smile is modest, but still very familiar. Sigh. “Actually, yes, I am. Have you seen me in something?”
“Uh … no.” That’s a lie, but a long explanation doesn’t seem worth it. “Your name seems familiar, though. I don’t meet a Keanu every day.”
He nods, glad for the attention but still a little disappointed. “Well, thanks for mentioning it. My agent must be doing something right … I’ll be right back with those coffees.”
When he’s gone, Eisfanger leans forward and say, “What was that all about?”
“The multiverse’s sense of humor. I wonder if I can get him to say, I know kung fu …”
* * *
Charlie calls when he’s downstairs. We go down to meet him rather than have him come up; he says he isn’t inclined to pay the elevator fee, but I get the feeling it’s his weapons he’s reluctant to part with rather than his money. We finish our coffees and I pay for them—and two slices of cheesecake—with a credit card. I could have used cash, but I can’t resist scrawling something across the bottom of the receipt.
Eisfanger reads it over my shoulder. “Take the blue pill? What’s that even mean ?”
“Sorry. The Matrix can’t be explained—only experienced .”
“You are one weird date,” Eisfanger mutters as we get in the elevator.
Charlie’s in the DeSoto, idling at the curb. “Everything okay?” I ask, hopping in the front as Eisfanger gets in the back.
“No problems. Picked up our shadow, took him on a little tour of the east side. Lost him somewhere around Commercial Drive.”
I pull out my phone and call Stoker. He answers on the first
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