Brooke was fed up with finding someplace other then her car to spend time. Her little rust bucket, known to most as a 1971 Ford Pinto, was not a great vehicle to drive let alone live in. therefore, when Friday made it's appearance Brooke couldn't be more thrilled for the distraction.
Thankfully she'd found a reasonably priced storage unit downtown to store most of the things she'd snagged from her apartment freeing up some more space for her to sleep. Now she only carried a small suitcase with extra clothes, toiletries in her gym bag, her laptop and tablet around with her.
Which was a blessing because she'd hate for Eric to see her car crammed full of her belongings . Prompting him to ask what had happened. The last thing she wanted to do was tell Eric what Maxine had done. She was all ready embarrassed enough without him knowing.
Eric texted her asking her to meet him at a restaurant near the stadium for dinner. It was spring training so he'd be to busy for lunch.
At approximately eight o'clock Brooke strolled into the fancy establishment known as Antonino's dressed in a lilac ruffled blouse with a pin striped skirt and black strapless heals. She was the epitome of professionalism. No one would be able to tell she was living out of her car. Not even Eric.
The Maître D' escorted her back to a booth where Eric was already waiting for her. He gave her a once over as he stood to greet her, "You look beautiful Brooke. Though, not surprising. I don't think I've ever seen you look anything less then amazing."
Brooke's cheeks flushed at his complements. Aiming to laugh it off she replied, "You've yet to see my Saturday afternoon get up of sweats and an old college t-shirt. It gets worse after the Chinese takeout comma sets in."
"Now that's something I'm going to have to add to my bucket list; seeing you in sweats and a t-shirt. I'm sure even dressed in that you're still just as enticing," Eric's normally twinkling gaze became clouded with desire. But it was erased by the time the two of them sat down across from one another.
A tall lean waiter moseys on over to their table, "Good evening, my name is Matt and I will be your waiter for this evening," He gives Brooke a long lookover as he continues, "and if you need anything at all madam please don't hesitate to ask." The comment was innocent enough but the over emphasis he placed on the last part coupled with his wandering gaze was definitely inappropriate.
Brooke was about to put the young man in his place when Eric's hand grasped hers. Stroking the back of her skins as he spoke, "My wife will have a glass of your finest red wine. What the heck make two after all we are celebrating tonight." He looks from the waiter to smile endearingly at Brooke. To Brooke it almost looked real.
The waiter's eyebrow cocks just a bit but promptly backs down from his pursuit. "What an excellent choice sir. I'll be right back with your drinks."
Brooke watches the poor young man retreat a bit dejected. His inquiry had been flattering yet very inappropriate.
"Young men these days," Eric chuckles pulling her attention back to him, "they have no sense of timing. Lacking in manners and tact." He continues to stroke the back of Brooke's hand, "A lovely woman such as yourself deserves better then getting picked up in a restaurant by the staff."
"What would you deem appropriate then?" Brooke knew she shouldn't have asked but she couldn't help it. The chemistry, pull, spark whatever you wanted to call it was there. Connecting the two of them. She couldn't deny it no more then she could pull her hand away from his.
"A woman like you," he flips over her hand grazing her palm with feather like strokes, "deserves some finesse. A grand gesture to show you just how valuable you really are." Eric locks eyes with Brooke then with a look that makes her thighs clench. Eric Matthews was most assuredly flirting with her.
"Eric is that you?!" A tall leggy blonde wrapped in a form fitting red dress, that hardly covers anything, squeals. She makes her way over to them weaving through the tables. Much to Brooke's dismay hot on the woman's heals is Maxine wearing a nasty sneer. Brooke quickly yanks her hand out Eric's grasp wishing with everything in her that she was anywhere but her at this very moment.
Miss tall, blonde and beautiful was none other then Dayton Clark, pro tennis player and Georgia native. Also Maxine's closet client.
As she swoops down on Eric, Dayton hardly gives a glance in Brooke's direction. In fact she props her hip on the table between Eric and Brooke giving Brooke a view of her backside. "Eric darling you haven't been returning my calls!" Her whiny tone grates on Brooke's nerves. "Not to mention Maxine tells me you've gone and dumped her contract. Now why would go and do an awful thing like that?"
Eric bristles at the mention of Maxine, "Has she now," he gives the conniving woman a sideways glance before directing his attention back to Dayton, "Dayton I believe you know Brooke Graves," he gestures toward Brooke. Completely ignoring Dayton's question.
Dayton Looks over her shoulder arching a delicate brow, "Oh my I didn't see you there Brooke. Dear you really ought to try to make yourself more noticeable."
The comment strikes it's intended mark and Brooke has to remind herself to behave before she responds back. Plastering a fake but pleasant smile onto her face she grits through her teeth, "Dayton as always it's a pleasure to see you."
"Yes a pleasure that's all yours I'm sure," she smirks turning back around to face Eric. Using one of her red manicured nails to trace the collar of Eric's shirt Dayton pouts, "I've missed you Eric. Without me who's going to keep you company?"
Eric gently but firmly moves out of Dayton's reach, "Dayton we've already had this conversation. Please don't make a scene."
"Yes Dayton don't make a scene. He's hardly worth it," chimes in Maxine.
Both women are working on Brooke's nerves. Out of respect for Eric she's kept her emotions in check but the more their mouths open the harder it gets.
Maxine zeroes in on her discomfort like a lioness spotting her prey and goes in for the kill, "Hello Brooke how's the homeless life treating you?" Brooke thought it impossible for her cheeks to catch fire, however; Maxine had made the impossible very possible.