“I’ll have tea,” Slade said. “I’m driving. Noah, what’ll you have?”
“Water, please.”
When the server left, Noah stared at words meaning nothing on his menu. “I have no idea what to order.”
“Pizza’s a safe choice, or would you like to try something else? How about a calzone?”
“What’s a calzone?”
Slade furrowed his brow, pursing his lips. “Well, I guess it’s basically pizza folded in half.” He demonstrated, folding his hands together.
A safe enough choice. “Sure. Sounds good.”
“Meat lovers?”
“How’d you guess?” Slade ought to write a book on the care and feeding of werewolves.
The server returned with their drinks, and Slade placed the order. Gradually, Noah relaxed.
Slade talked more about growing up, his mother leaving, dropping out of art school, checking into rehab. To how many other lovers had he told his story? Based on his faltering and doubling back, the story wasn’t rehearsed. Noah got the feeling Slade hadn’t told many people, if any.
Then dinner arrived. The calzone! Oh, so much better than Noah hoped. Cheese, tomato sauce, sausage…
Slade grinned at Noah’s moan. “Like that, do you?”
Noah winked. “Better than rabbit.”
After dinner, Slade drove to a movie theatre. A movie. Something Emmett promised but didn’t deliver. A spike of panic speared Noah.
Slade calmed Noah’s nerves. “Okay. I’ve already got the tickets. We’ll have to go through a crowded lobby to get there. You all right with that?”
Gods, Noah hoped so. Slade went through a lot of trouble to get let down. Slade wrapped an arm around Noah at the front door, shuffled through the crowd to a hallway, where he gave a ticket taker the tickets and bustled them farther down the hallway to the last entry.
They moved too quickly for Noah to worry about people. “What’s this?” he asked, nodding at the lit sign above the door.
“A movie based on comics I liked as a kid. Lots of action. Let me know if the noise or anything is too much.”
For a good memory from Slade’s past, Noah would do his best to endure. They sat on the side, way down in front, a door marked “Exit” nearby. Once again, Slade thought of everything.
A young man wearing the theater’s logo on his shirt came over. “Mr. Slater? Here you go. Enjoy the show.” The kid handed over a tub of popcorn and two drinks.
Noah had eaten popcorn once, a long time ago.
Slade handed over the snacks, dug money from his wallet for the kid, who grinned and ran off. “I wanted you to get the full experience without having to wait in a concession line.”
“You thought of everything, didn’t you?”
Slade lifted a finger. “Oops, you reminded me.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. He ripped the bag open, pulled out something yellow, twisted the end, and pushed a foam plug into Noah’s ear. “You do the other side,” he said, handing over another small yellow shape. “They’re to keep the noise down.”
A few seconds after Noah managed to get the plug into his ear, the noise volume dropped. After that, he paid little attention to something called previews and advertisements. By the time the movie started, Noah had forgotten to be afraid.
They sat in the truck in the parking lot, waiting for traffic leaving the theater to thin. Noah couldn’t stop grinning. “Thank you so much. I enjoyed this evening.”
“Then we’ll have to come back sometime,” Slade replied, patting Noah’s knee.
Again. Slade wanted to take Noah out again.
Slade fished his ringing cellphone out of his pocket. “Slade.”