Chapter 56: Locke's Guide
After leaving school, Locke called Mrs. Helen Stacy and informed her that he had invited Gwen to dinner that evening.
Given Locke's good standing with Mrs. Stacy and Mr. Stacy, this was a smooth move.
"Look."
Locke put down his phone, glanced at Gwen seated beside him, and shook his phone. "Helen said yes."
Gwen stared out the window. "This isn't the way to Fifth Avenue."
Locke veered onto the George Washington Bridge, crossed the Hudson River into rural New Jersey, and took a right after the bridge, arriving at a pier on the riverbank.
"There!"
Locke pointed to a floating restaurant at the dock, smiling at Gwen. "I changed my mind. That's where we'll dine tonight."
Gwen gazed at the floating restaurant, her mouth slightly agape.
Chester Lover's Restaurant.
Of course, Gwen knew this place. It was famed for its award-winning chef and had a strict reservation system. George and Helen had been hoping to visit for ages, but the earliest availability was March next year.
"...How did you manage to book this place?"
Gwen stepped out of the car, a mix of surprise, curiosity, and a hint of admiration in her eyes. "Chester Lover's Restaurant is nearly impossible to get into."
"Really?"
Locke grinned, shut the car door, and faced Gwen. "It means we're in the right place. Shall we?"
Gwen: "..."
Chester's had two floors, forty tables in total, accommodating just 80 guests daily in timed sittings. Despite its size, the limited seating ensured an intimate dining experience for every guest.
Locke's reservation secured a prime spot on the second floor, offering a stunning view of Manhattan across the river.
"Seriously."
Gwen regarded Locke with intense curiosity. "The New York Daily reported Tony Stark, the playboy billionaire, failed to cut the line here. How did you manage it?"
Locke shrugged. "I booked a year ago. Believe me?"
Gwen rolled her eyes.
But even when rolling her eyes, she looked beautiful.
Suddenly, Gwen's eyes lit up, and she pulled out her phone from her bag.
"What are you doing?"
"Taking a picture."
"..."
Locke watched as other patrons took out their phones, snapping photos and even shooting videos to share with friends and family. Gwen, too, was capturing images of the restaurant.
She scrolled through the photos and glanced at Locke. "My mom won't believe this. She'll be so jealous."
Locke fell silent for a moment. "Don't post it."
Curious, Gwen asked, "Why not?"
Locke chuckled softly. "Next time I'm at the shooting range, George might use me as target practice."
"What kind of place is this?"
Chester Lover's Restaurant in Chester. The chef's accolades were incidental; the allure lay in the romance it promised. George might accept Locke and Gwen being more than friends, but anything beyond that—a lover's relationship—was out of bounds. George had tried to secure a booking here without success. If he found out...
Gwen seemed to grasp the situation and shot Locke a teasing look. "So, how did you manage to get this reservation?"
Locke smiled but remained tight-lipped.
Gwen nudged him with her elbow, urging him to spill the secret.
Just then—
"Ha-ha!"
A hearty laugh echoed nearby, and out strode Chester, red-faced with a thick beard, more akin to a gang enforcer than a chef. He approached Locke with a booming voice. "Hey there, you little rascal! About time you came to see me. You've been in New York long enough!"
Gwen's jaw dropped.
Locke shook his head, rising to greet Chester, who had the strength of a bull. "Old man, how's your health?"
"As long as I've got money."
Chester's eyes twinkled. "No reason to have bad health when you've got money."
In conversation, Chester, with his bushy beard, eyed Locke and winked.
Locke introduced Gwen. "This is Gwen Stacy, a classmate from Midtown High School. And Colin Chester, the proprietor of this establishment."
Gwen stepped forward, extending her hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Chester."
Chester laughed heartily. "Hello, Gwen. If you're this little rascal's friend, you're my friend too."
Gwen smiled, stealing a glance at Locke. Since she couldn't pry the secret from him, she might as well ask Chester. "Mr. Chester, are you and Locke..."
Locke and Chester exchanged glances, both breaking into smiles.
Gwen looked puzzled.
Chester's white beard bobbed like a coach. "Didn't Locke tell you? He's Texas's finest young cowboy."
Gwen nodded. Locke had mentioned it, but this was New York, not the Lone Star State.
Chester continued, "This little rascal was under my wing back then."
Understanding dawned on Gwen's face.
Beside her, Locke grinned.
That much was true.
But Chester had omitted a crucial detail.
In addition to mentoring Locke as Texas's youngest cowboy, Chester had also guided him into the world of assassination. It was a profession that seemed simple to enter but difficult to master.
Locke always maintained he was a professional assassin, distinct from the quick-trigger operatives like Wesley. That distinction lay in the organizational model.
Historically, assassins trained as apprentices under master killers, learning the trade firsthand. Chester had provided Locke with initial intelligence sources and contracts before retiring.
Few knew Locke as the unrivaled assassin.
Chester was one of them, and it was Chester who had vouched for Locke at the Continental Hotel.
...