Chapter 10: First Date - Part 1
July 19, 2008 - Evening
Marcello's occupied the corner of a downtown street that screamed old money.
White tablecloths, crystal chandeliers, wine list bound in leather. The kind of restaurant where entrees started at fifty dollars and nobody blinked. I'd made reservations three days ago, requesting the corner table with the best lighting.
Lorelei's apartment was a modest complex in midtown. I arrived at six-fifty, exactly on time, wearing the suit Aunt Helen had sent—navy blue, Italian cut, probably worth more than Lorelei's monthly rent.
She answered on the second knock.
The simple black dress fit perfectly, elegant without being flashy. Her blonde hair was down, makeup subtle, and for the first time since I'd met her, the guarded expression was almost entirely absent.
The System activated automatically.
[ **ANALYZING: LORELEI MARTINS** ]
[ **NERVOUSNESS: 67%** ]
[ **EXCITEMENT: 71%** ]
[ **GUARD STATUS: SIGNIFICANTLY LOWERED** ]
[ **GENUINE INTEREST: CONFIRMED** ]
[ **ENERGY: 89/100** ]
"You look incredible," I said, and meant it.
Her smile was genuine, warm. "You clean up pretty well yourself."
The drive to Marcello's took fifteen minutes. We talked about nothing important—Sacramento traffic, the weather, whether jazz or blues made better dinner music. Surface conversation that let us both relax into the evening.
When we pulled up to the restaurant, her expression shifted.
Surprise. Subtle, quickly controlled, but unmistakable. She'd expected nice. She hadn't expected this level of nice.
"This is... more than I expected," she said as we walked to the entrance.
"You deserve somewhere nice."
The maître d' greeted us like we were royalty. "Mr. Colen, your table is ready."
He led us through the dining room—past couples celebrating anniversaries, businessmen closing deals, the wealthy enjoying their wealth. Our corner table had perfect lighting, privacy, and a view of the street through floor-to-ceiling windows.
Lorelei settled into her chair, taking in the surroundings. The System tracked her micro-expressions.
[ **ANALYZING: LORELEI RESPONSE** ]
[ **IMPRESSED: 84%** ]
[ **SLIGHT DISCOMFORT: VENUE BEYOND HER USUAL EXPERIENCE** ]
[ **EVALUATING: YOUR FINANCIAL STATUS** ]
[ **ENERGY: 87/100** ]
"She's wondering how a CBI detective affords this. Fair question."
The waiter appeared with menus and water. I ordered wine—a Barolo the sommelier had recommended when I'd called ahead. Expensive but not ostentatiously so.
"You do this often?" Lorelei asked once the waiter left. "Take dates to places where the menu doesn't list prices?"
"First time, actually. Wanted to make a good impression."
"Mission accomplished." She opened her menu, scanning options. "Though now I'm wondering if you're secretly wealthy or just terrible with money."
I laughed. "Family money. Extended family who like sending gifts for no reason. I usually feel guilty about it, but tonight seemed like a good time to not feel guilty."
[ **LIE PROBABILITY GAUGE: ANALYZING OWN STATEMENT** ]
[ **SELF-DECEPTION: 34% - PARTIALLY TRUE** ]
[ **ENERGY: 85/100** ]
The truth was more complicated. The original Tedd had felt guilty. I felt like an imposter spending someone else's inheritance. But the money was real, the family's affection was genuine, and Lorelei deserved better than a casual chain restaurant.
"Well," she said, "I appreciate you not feeling guilty tonight."
We ordered—she chose mushroom risotto, I went with the osso buco. The wine arrived, smooth and complex, and conversation flowed easier than it had at The Sterling Room.
She talked about her work, about difficult customers and generous tippers. About Sacramento's summer heat and how different it was from her hometown. Surface details, but shared more freely than before.
I talked about CBI, keeping it vague. Cases without specifics. The team dynamics. Jane's eccentric brilliance and our ongoing couch war, which made her laugh.
"You're fighting over a couch?"
"It's a principle thing."
"That's ridiculous."
"Completely. But also necessary."
Her laugh was genuine, unguarded. The walls were coming down incrementally, brick by brick.
The food arrived—beautifully plated, restaurant-quality pretension that somehow tasted as good as it looked. We ate and talked, and the System provided constant background analysis.
[ **ANALYZING: LORELEI ENGAGEMENT** ]
[ **COMFORT LEVEL: INCREASING** ]
[ **ATTRACTION MARKERS: PRESENT** ]
[ **TRUST BUILDING: ACTIVE** ]
[ **GUARD STATUS: 40% (SIGNIFICANTLY REDUCED)** ]
[ **ENERGY: 82/100** ]
Midway through dinner, she set down her fork and looked at me directly.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Why me?" Her expression was serious now, evaluating. "You're attractive, successful, clearly not hurting for money. You could date anyone. So why a cocktail waitress you met randomly at a bar?"
The question was fair, direct, and loaded with insecurity she was trying to hide. The System highlighted the vulnerability underneath.
[ **CRITICAL MOMENT: HONEST RESPONSE REQUIRED** ]
[ **SUBJECT TESTING YOUR AUTHENTICITY** ]
[ **WRONG ANSWER WILL RESET TRUST PROGRESS** ]
"No lies. She'll know."
"Because when I walked into The Sterling Room, you were the only person in that entire bar who looked like they were surviving instead of living," I said quietly. "And I recognized that look because I've worn it myself."
Her eyes widened slightly. I continued before she could interrupt.
"You're beautiful, yes. But Sacramento's full of beautiful people. You're intelligent, guarded, carrying something heavy you don't talk about. And when you smiled at me—really smiled, not the professional mask—it felt genuine. That's rare."
[ **LIE PROBABILITY: OWN STATEMENT - 8%** ]
[ **AUTHENTICITY: 92%** ]
She studied me for a long moment. The System tracked her emotional response—surprise, vulnerability, careful hope.
"That's either the most honest thing anyone's said to me," she said finally, "or the best line I've ever heard."
"It's honest."
"I believe you." She picked up her wine glass, took a sip. "For what it's worth, you don't look like you're just surviving anymore."
"Neither do you. Not tonight."
The conversation shifted after that—deeper, more personal. She talked about Miranda briefly, about how the grief had shaped her into someone more cautious, more guarded. About moving to Sacramento to escape the memories but finding they followed anyway.
I talked about my own losses—parents dead in a car crash, which was Tedd's truth not mine, but it served the purpose. About choosing law enforcement to make sense of senseless violence.
We didn't talk about the System, or transmigration, or the fact that I knew her sister had been murdered by a serial killer she'd never heard of. Some truths weren't for first dates.
Dessert came—tiramisu we shared, trading bites across the table. The wine bottle emptied. The restaurant slowly cleared around us until we were one of the last couples remaining.
"I should probably get you home," I said eventually. "Before they start charging us rent."
She laughed. "Probably wise."
The drive back to her apartment was quiet, comfortable. Not the awkward silence of a failed date, but the easy quiet of two people who'd genuinely enjoyed each other's company.
I walked her to her door. She unlocked it, then turned back.
"Thank you," she said. "For tonight. For the honesty. For... not being what I expected."
"Good unexpected or bad unexpected?"
"Very good." She smiled, that genuine expression that had first caught my attention. "When can I see you again?"
"Whenever you want."
"Wednesday? The Sterling Room. We can have drinks where it started."
"I'll be there."
She leaned in, kissed my cheek—brief, warm, leaving the scent of her perfume lingering. Then she slipped inside, door closing with a soft click.
I stood there for a moment, processing.
[ **RELATIONSHIP PROGRESS: LORELEI MARTINS** ]
[ **TRUST LEVEL: 47% (MAJOR INCREASE)** ]
[ **ROMANTIC INTEREST: CONFIRMED MUTUAL** ]
[ **GUARD STATUS: CONTINUING TO LOWER** ]
[ **NEXT INTERACTION: SCHEDULED** ]
[ **ENERGY: 79/100** ]
The drive home felt different. Lighter somehow, despite the weight of everything I was carrying. Lorelei Martins was becoming more than a mission objective, more than a woman I was trying to save from Red John's manipulation.
She was becoming someone I actually cared about.
And that complication terrified me more than any System malfunction ever could.
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