“Jonathon Hunt?” A feminine voice behind Jonathon made him start. Turning, he saw that the woman that had spoken matched the picture almost exactly. “Sorry to sneak up.” She extended one slim, long-boned hand. “It’s me, Karen Worthing. From online?”
Jonathon smiled and accepted her hand. Her handshake was surprisingly firm, he noticed. “Yes, of course. A pleasure to meet you. I was beginning to worry you’d gotten lost or something.”
Karen shook her head. “Nah, I don’t get lost easily. Not when dinner’s on the line.” She wasn’t smiling so much as hinting at a smile, Jonathon observed.
“Shall we head inside and get some dinner?” Jonathon waved toward the door of the restaurant.
“Yes, let’s.” Karen offered Jonathon her arm, and the two walked inside.
A few moments later, at the table, Jonathon started conversation to avoid an awkward silence that he felt brewing. “So, when your profile says that your job is ‘law enforcement,’ what does that mean?”
Karen smiled confidently, as if the question was only to be expected. “I’m a consultant for the police. It’s nothing exciting, though - data analysis. A desk job.”
“Don’t worry, it’s still more interesting than what I do.” Jonathon assured her.
“Wait, don’t tell me, I know this. You’re in... software, right?”
“That’s right. I’d tell you what I work on, but then you’d get that glass-eyed stare...”
Karen laughed. “Yeah, I think I would. Some days I can barely - ” She broke off, cocking her head to the side like she’d heard something. “Would you excuse me for one minute?” She went from amused smiling to looking a bit tired and annoyed in the span of a second. “I promise, I’ll be right back.”
“Uh, sure.” Jonathon was mildly flustered at her self-interruption and break in attitude.
Karen got up and headed for the restrooms. Jonathon wondered what might be the cause of this interruption. He couldn’t think of anything flattering.
A scream at the window broke Jonathon’s train of thought. Turning, he saw a small group of people clustered against the glass pointing up and across the street. Along with about half of the restaurant’s occupants, Jonathon went to the window to see what was the matter.
On the eighth floor of a parking garage across the street, a car teetered precariously in a hole smashed through the thin concrete wall. Jonathon could just make out the form of the driver inside. As he watched, the car tilted slowly down, and he knew that in seconds, it would fall to the street below.
A blue flash obscured the car, and when it cleared there was someone else inside. Jonathon recognized the flash as hallmark of “The Phantom” - the mysterious masked vigilante who always appeared and vanished in a blue burst of light. The Phantom’s weight made the car tip faster, and almost immediately it slid out and fell.
Just before it hit the ground and burst into flames, there was another flash, and Jonathon knew instinctively that it had landed unoccupied. The Phantom had vanished, taking the driver to safety. The crowd started muttering about the incident even before the flashing red-and-blue lights signaled the arrival of a firetruck.
Eventually, Jonathon went back to his table, and a few seconds later Karen reappeared. “Sorry about that.” She pointedly did not ask about the scene still visible across the street, or provide reason for her absence.
Jonathon suspected there was a link there, and prepared to ask about it.
“So how’s the seafood here?” Karen, heading him off, changed the subject, opening her menu.
The interruption gave Jonathon time to consider what he’d been about to ask. If Karen was The Phantom, she wasn’t here to be outed - she was here for a date. Even if she wasn’t, then his asking such a bizarre question would not help his chances of a second date, a second date Jonathon could tell already he wanted to have. “Er... I can’t say I know.” he answered the question after a brief pause, a little sheepishly.
“I think I’ll try it then. I like to live dangerously.” Karen decided, tucking away a strand of loose hair. she glanced up from the menu briefly and shot Jonathon a momentary impish smirk, and the man thought for a second she knew what had just gone through his head. After a moment, though, he dismissed that as a figment of his imagination.
“I’m getting that sense, yes.” Jonathon signaled to the waiter to come and take their order.
This story originally written for the Literary Maneuvers Challenge on writingforums.com.
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