John was thrilled at the look in Kerry's eyes when she saw the limo. He had hoped she would be happy to get a chauffeured ride and she obviously was. "I'll get the door," he said. As he was locking up the house, he heard the sound of a car door open and close, and then the sound of another door being opened. When John turned around, he saw the driver standing by the passenger door. John let Kerry get into the car first, his hand hovering just under her arm in case she slipped. After she was inside, he turned to the driver. "Hello, Hank. You made good time getting here."
Hank smiled. "When Mrs. Carter told me who I was driving for this evening, I couldn't keep my foot off the gas. I put a few things in the back for you, Master John. I hope your lady friend likes them."
John's smiled broadened. "Thanks, Hank, but she's not a friend in that sense. She's just a friend."
"Yes, sir," Hank replied, even though it was apparent that he didn't believe John. "The Navy Pier, correct?"
"That's right. And there's no rush to get there."
Hank smiled again. "Yes, sir." After John got into the car, Hank shut the door and walked around to the driver's side.
Kerry slipped into the sumptuous back seat. There was a partition between her and the driver. The compartment was totally private. The seats were soft leather, and cool air-conditioning gave off an almost subliminal hum.
She smiled and reached automatically for her seat belt - and slipped into it. This would be fun.
Her cotton skirt seemed totally plebian compared to these surroundings. But it would only be for a short while; she smoothed it self-consciously over her legs, making sure the crutch was resting by her seat. All calm and proper.
John settled into the seat and smiled at Kerry while he put on his seat belt. "The driver told me that he put something back here for us. I'm assuming it's food and drink." John leaned forward and opened a console which was between two single seats across from them. Inside the console was a bottle of champagne on ice and a small plate heaped with raw oysters.
"Wow. Do you like raw oysters?" John asked Kerry as he held the plate out toward her.
Kerry frowned. Hired limos gave you the food you ordered. They didn't suddenly sprout oysters and champagne on a whim. And millionaire or not, she shouldn't be letting her resident pay for all this.
If Carter had ordered them too, Kerry wasn't sure what it meant. Was he trying to come on to her? It seemed an unlikely idea, but - it was raw oysters, and all that they were supposed to represent.
It seemed churlish to complain though. She frowned again. "We'll go Dutch on this." That would put it on an equal footing.
"Dutch?" John asked, confused. "I don't know where these oysters come from, but you're more than welcome to have all you want."
Kerry didn't know if Carter was genuinely mis-interpreting her or being dis-ingenuous. She looked him straight in the eye. "I'll pay for half of this."
John shrugged. "Okay. If you wish. I'll have to get the receipt from Hank. I don't know where he bought it from." John's arm was beginning to get tired from holding out the plate. "So, do you want one?" He wanted one, but it would be rude of him to eat before Kerry did. If she wanted one at all, that is.
"Hank?" Kerry knew that Carter was friendly - but having got to know the driver's name already was remarkable even for him. She picked up the oyster and ate it. It slithered down her throat deliciously. She had an idea that going Dutch on these oysters might be more expensive than she'd anticipated.
John nodded. "Hank. Or Henry, if you prefer. He likes to be called Hank though. Gamma always calls him Henry, but then she likes to do things the proper way, and the proper way is that you address your driver by his full first name and not by a nickname." John plucked an oyster off the plate and put it in his mouth, chewing it thoroughly before swallowing. "Champagne?" he asked.
"This is your family's limo?" Kerry stopped eating and stared. She'd thought Carter would hire one. This being a family car, this being family DRIVER, . . . she half bit her lip, unsure of what to do.
"No. It's Gamma's car. She wasn't going to use it tonight, so she said I could borrow it. I think Hank thought this was a date or something of that nature. They get excited when they think I'm in love." John turned from Kerry so she wouldn't see how embarrassed he was to say that, even though it was true. Occupying himself with opening the bottle of champagne, John asked Kerry again, "Do you want a glass of champagne? It's already nicely chilled."
Oh." If Carter hadn't ordered them, that was different, better. He was probably just as embarrassed about it as she was. No need to make an issue of the expectations behind the oysters then. She smiled. "Champagne sounds wonderful."
"Can you reach the glasses? They're inside the door." John used his head to point to the door on the front of the console while he wrapped a towel around the neck and top of the bottle and popped the cork. "There should be napkins in there, too."
Kerry reached forward and found the champagne flutes. When they banged together they gave off a delicate chime. Crystal. Of course they'd be crystal in the matriarch of the Carter family's car. She held them in turn under the mouth of the bottle, watching it disgorge its amber bubbles. They frothed up and over the side of one glass enticingly.
"Uh oh!" John exclaimed, laughing as he tried to catch the champagne with the towel. He knew his Gamma could get her carpet cleaned, but he was pretty sure that Kerry wouldn't want champagne on her skirt. "Got it," John triumphantly announced. Then he took his glass from Kerry and tasted the wine. "This is very good. I'll bet that Gamma gave it to Hank to put in here. She's a schemer like that. You don't mind, do you? About them making the wrong assumption about us?" John wished it had been the right assumption. Wished he could lean over and kiss Kerry right now. Maybe even slowly remove that clingy top which hugged Kerry's curves so wonderfully and the skirt from her body and lap his champagne from the hollow of her belly.
John mentally kicked himself for letting himself think such things about Kerry. This was no place in which to suddenly sport an erection. Besides, he reminded himself for the millionth time, she wasn't interested in him.
Kerry did mind. Or she knew she should mind. She wanted no one at work to make assumptions like that. But here and now with amber bubbles and laughing brown eyes, she found the idea oddly flattering. She sipped at the glass. "Mmm, if it gets me alcohol like this she can make all the assumptions she wants."
John laughed again. "Gamma does have good taste in food and drink. Would you like another oyster?" John picked up the plate from where he had set it down on the seat between them. "They are good, aren't they? But we probably shouldn't eat or drink too much. I can just see all this coming back up if we go on the 'Tilt-A-Whirl' once we get there."
Kerry grinned as she took an oyster. "So you've got a weak stomach then." She bit into the delicious tidbit, feeling a little bit of juice running down her chin. But with half an oyster in one hand and a glass of vintage bubbly in the other she had no way of remedying it.
Kerry tried licking her lips to get rid of the juice, but her tongue didn't go out far enough. She looked at the two things in her hands, trying to guess which one could be disposed of the fastest.
"Here," John grabbed one of the napkins and dabbed Kerry's chin with it. He wished he was bold enough to lean over and lick her chin clean, but he wasn't. "I don't usually get a weak stomach on rides. Just when I'm nervous. But, I've never gotten on any wild rides with a stomach full of champagne and oysters." John grabbed another oyster and popped it into his mouth. Glancing out the window, he saw they were almost to the Pier and his heart fell a little with that realization. He would have liked to have had more time alone with Kerry like this. It wasn't often that he got to see a happy-go-lucky Kerry Weaver, and he liked seeing her this way. He liked it a lot.
"Thanks." Kerry could feel the place where Carter's fingers had grazed her chin long after they'd returned to his side of the car and grabbed their own oyster. Kerry caught herself staring at him, and hastily popped the second half oyster in her mouth. She followed it with a sip of the wonderful champagne, and then her glass was empty. She held it out to Carter, wanting a refill, and just maybe his hand would graze hers again.
"More? I guess you're not worried about your stomach, then, are you?" John said as he refilled Kerry's glass. "Drink fast, cause we're almost there." John warned Kerry. Taking his own advice, he downed the rest of his champagne, then set the glass down into the crushed ice in the champagne bucket.
As if on cue, the car glided to a smooth stop.
Kerry looked around, a little disappointed. They seemed to have got to Navy Pier very fast. Where Carter's hand bumped her arm left goose bumps in the cool of the air-conditioned car. She drank the frothy liquid, smiling almost insanely at Carter, and grabbed one last oyster, enjoying the medley of tastes on her tongue.
She began groping for the door handle, knowing it was time to get out. There was a heady atmosphere in the car, and maybe it was best to be away from it anyhow.
John reached over and wrapped his hand around Kerry's wrist. "Two things, Kerry. First, the driver always opens the door; and second, the sidewalk is over here on my side."
The door opened and John got out, then held out his hand to help Kerry out of the car.
Kerry looked at the brown eyes that were speaking to her. Then followed them as they left the car. Sliding over was awkward with her bad leg, but she did her best, going slowly. The leather was soft and supple beneath her - she couldn't help but remember that a few seconds ago Carter had been sitting right where her behind was now. And then, finally, she was grateful for Carter's assistance in getting her upright and out of the vehicle.
She turned to the driver who was holding the door open. "Thank you, Hank." She felt absurdly proud for remembering the name.
"You're welcome, Doctor Weaver. Master John? When should I return for you?"
"I don't know. Sometime after the fireworks have ended, I suppose. Why don't you park the car and then enjoy yourself here? We can meet back here after the fireworks."
"Yes, sir." Hank doffed his hat in Kerry's direction. "I hope you enjoyed your snack, ma'am." Then Hank shut the door and went around to the driver's side, getting in without a backward glance and driving off. Another limo pulled to the curb and John led Kerry away.
"My stomach is spontaneously calling for food. How about yours?" John asked her as they made their way into the crowd.
Kerry's hand was spontaneously calling for John's, but she had a dim idea that food would be good too. In the meantime she gripped his hand hard, feeling the additional warmth that the contact gave her on an evening that was already humid and warm.
John's heart skipped a beat when Kerry sought out his hand. "How about something not good for us? There's a hot dog stand over to our right," he said. The only bad thing about having to eat was that Kerry would let go of his hand. But maybe once they were done she'd take it again? John hoped so, anyway.
"That's good." Kerry looked up at John, wanting to catch sight of his warm brown eyes - pools of liquid chocolate. "I want mine with ketchup and mustard, and . . . everything." She enunciated the final word slowly, then repeated it. "Everything."
"Everything." John repeated. He could now see that Kerry was tipsy and he was doing his best to not laugh at her. It made sense really. A sober Kerry would never even think about holding his hand. "Just one?"
Kerry stared back at John, suddenly indecisive. "If I'm still hungry, I can have yours?"
Unable to resist, John replied, "You can have anything of mine you want, Kerry."
Kerry nodded. "Good. What are you getting on it?" It was a serious question, deserving much consideration. "And what kind of bun?"
"I can't tell from here. Probably a Kaiser roll or a regular bun. And most likely a regular hot dog. Would you prefer a hot sausage? There's got to be a stand for those around here somewhere." A bun was a bun, John thought. Who cared what kind it was as long as it was edible?
"A hot sausage?" There were just so many things to consider. "What about a hamburger? It's just got to have everything." That was what she was sure about. "Everything." Kerry repeated. "I want everything."
John couldn't hold back the laughter at that. "Here." He steered Kerry toward the nearest stand, which happened to sell hamburgers. "Sit." He waited until she had sat at a picnic table and then walked up to order for them. He figured 'everything' also meant cheese, so he ordered three hamburgers with everything, two orders of fries and two sodas. Large sodas. Couldn't leave Kerry deprived, could he? With his hands full, John made his way back to their seats.
"Here, you go. One large soda, one order of fries and one large cheeseburger with *everything*," John said as he placed the food in front of Kerry. "I even got ketchup and malt vinegar for the fries since I didn't
know which you'd prefer."
John sat down across from Kerry and smiled as he waited to see if she was going to put *everything* on her fries, or if she would eat them plain or just with the ketchup or vinegar.
The sights and smells and sounds of the pier filled Kerry's senses like an overfull kaleidoscope. She kept on twisting and turning as different things caught her attention. The wood of the bench was hard beneath her. And a small child was carrying a helium filled balloon. And seagulls were swooping for food.
And John was sitting beside her.
She grabbed her cheeseburger and began eating it hungrily. She could taste the individual elements. The soft bread bun, with sesame seeds on top rolling against her palette. The moist, slightly charred, beef patty. The ketchup with its tang. And the limp lettuce and tomato and beetroot - too long out of the garden. The pliability and sensuousness of the heated cheese. The whole thing comprising the wonderful taste sensation known as a cheeseburger.
After a few mouthfuls she stopped to deal with her fries. Carter had got vinegar and ketchup for them. She stared at it for a second, before depositing the vinegar all over the fries, and the ketchup only on half. She took fries alternately from both sides - relishing the difference in taste and heat and texture.
The food was good, and as she ate the world became less a series of fractured and sensual images and more a coherent whole.
John was having a good time watching Kerry watch the world go by. He ate his cheeseburger absently, too absorbed in the woman to really notice what he was eating. He grinned when she put the vinegar and ketchup on the fries, trying each out.
"Is your cheeseburger okay?" John asked as Kerry's eating slowed a bit. She had to have been hungry considering how quickly she had consumed most of the burger and half the fries.
Kerry turned to Carter and smiled. "Yes. It's great." It was a little sad seeing the world calm down - but Carter was her resident and it was probably for the best. This was supposed to be two friends enjoying an evening out -- nothing more. It was much the best if she didn't suddenly feel that he was the source of all light and warmth in the universe. She gave a regretful smile, and took a sip of her soda. "I must have skipped lunch or something."
"Something," John agreed, thinking it was most likely the second glass of champagne that she had downed in something like two seconds. Well, Kerry was obviously back to her normal self now. No more hand holding. John took another bite of his cheeseburger, but for some reason, instead of not noticing the taste at all, he thought it tasted like sawdust. He set it down in disgust, his appetite gone along with Kerry's flirtation.
"If you're still hungry, you can have my second one. I'm not as hungry as I thought," John said, pushing the untouched second cheeseburger toward Kerry.
Kerry looked at the burger, then up at Carter to see if he was serious. She picked up the burger and took a bite - remembering how good the first one had been - but this just tasted like a run of the mill cheeseburger. It wasn't going to win any culinary awards. She shook her head. "I'm done."