Saving Lucas

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

There were coins falling from the ceiling. He had never seen these coins before. The coins were huge, the size of a truck tire. They were falling from the ceiling on the far side of the room. Then they started to make their way to him. He couldn't get up, his legs were glued onto the bed. He struggled to yell for help, but he couldn't find his voice. The coins were nearer now. The sound reverberating in his ears. Thud, thud, thud. His eyes widened in horror as the last coin threatened to fall straight to his face. Then he heard a voice yelling, "Anton, hey, Anton."

Winter's voice woke him up from his nightmare. He sat up, his body drenched in sweat. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hands. Another thud. He now realized that the sound came from the door. Winter was knocking. He sat up and walked to the door.

"Hey," he said with a smile, as he opened the door.

Winter's eyes widened for a split second, then turned her back to him. "Oh my god I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up..."

Anton looked down and remembered that he wasn't wearing anything except for his shorts. He sprinted to the bed and grabbed his shirt, put it on, went back to Winter and chuckled.

"I'm sorry. I'm used to sleeping with my shirt off..." His voice drifted away. He felt a surge of shame flooding his chest, a warm, uneasy twang forming in his stomach. The feeling was unfamiliar to him, then he remembered the way he treated all of the other women in his past. He was, put simply, barbaric.

"Anyway," he continued, "what's up?"

Winter looked at him and shrugged. "I... I couldn't sleep. I was wondering if you perhaps want to grab a cup of coffee with me downstairs."

"At the banquet?" Then he gestured towards his shirt. "But we look like shit."

Winter laughed. Her laugh was contagious. Anton suddenly found himself laughing too.

"Should it matter?" Winter asked mid-laugh.

"I don't think so," he chuckled. "Let me get my pants."

****

The banquet was indeed jaw dropping. The room was expansive, and can accommodate perhaps a thousand guests. The tables were made of glass, and so were the chairs. There was a table runner that crossed the warm and cool colors of the color wheel. A medium sized fishbowl served as the centerpiece, filled with floating roses and candles. The piano was empty; the musician nowhere to be found—Anton looked up at the clock and saw that it was three o'clock in the morning—but there was music playing faintly on the background. It sounded like a saxophone concert. Kenny G, maybe.

They took a table in the veranda. Outside, city lights glowed faintly, matching the soothing rhythm of the music. Anton pulled the chair for Winter, internalizing his role as the night's gentleman. Though they probably looked like shit—they haven't changed their clothes from the day before—Winter still looked gorgeous. There was a slight shade of red on her lips, and Anton thought that maybe she dabbed on some lipstick. He wanted to compliment her, but the waiter arrived sooner than expected. He gave them the menu, and when Anton saw the pricelist, he cursed under his breath. Winter reached for his hand and tapped them soothingly.

"We'll have a bottle of Chardonnay, please. And two orders of caviar," she said with such class that took Anton by surprise. The waiter left, leaving them both in a haze.

"Chardonnay and caviar," he said, "very typical."

Winter tilted her head back and laughed. "We're an exception," she said. "I'm not wearing a gown, and you're not wearing a suit."