Business Lunch

caldecott_icon.png rylie_icon.png zan_icon.png

Where: Corinthian Casino : King Chory's

When: June 15, 2012; Lunch

What: Family business is discussed over lunch. Sort of.

It was supposed to be a lunch date, Rylie meeting up with Zan between classes, just a little midday canoodling. And Shenanigans. And she's even there on time, which is something of a miracle, given her office.

However.

She is not alone. When Zan is pointed to her table, she's sitting in one chair, and his father is sitting in the next one. At least there's an empty one waiting for him? A glass of champagne sits half-drunk in front of her. It might be her second glass.

Probably is her second glass, given that the Mayor has been with her and it's his card that will be paying for this lunch. He himself has a scotch - on the rocks - in his own glass. "I don't really want to go to that event. So be sure to strike it off the itinerary, make some apology, root canal or the like." He's looking at the menu in King Chory's, heart of Linderman Territory. Asian and greek fusion. "I'm thinking lamb. When is Alexander supposed to get here?" Caldecott turns, looking to see if he can catch a glimpse of Zan anywhere. "Always late, not like Timothy."

Zan might be running a couple of minutes behind. Given that he had to talk to an instructor and meet with a couple of classmates about some group project due by mid term. But it's not much in the way of tardiness and he's soon weaving through the establishment to the table he's been directed to.

Of course, there's no hiding the ruffled feather pause that finding his dad sitting at the table causes. No, he stops for a solid beat. When he resumes approaching it's like a cat walking into a dog yard, an air of caution and curiosity. "Sorry I'm late," he offers, one hand gripping the back of the waiting chair while the other slides his pack to the floor beside it.

"He isn't late, he's— here," Rylie says, glass lifting to point in the younger Caldecott's direction as she sees him coming. Her expression is apologetic, and yet— desperate. And when he comes to the empty chair, she even looks relieved. "You're fine," she greets, standing up to lean over and greet him with a kiss to the cheek.

The mayor will just have to get used to that. One day.

She sits back down, picking up the menu to look over. "Lamb? That actually sounds pretty good."

"He's still late. We do have a schedule to maintain." And only two hours for a 'business' lunch. "Timothy is back in town," informing his youngest son. "Your mother is spitting mad. He's taken up a position in the DA's office instead of her office." Zan is taking a seat and he lifts up his glass of scotch, taking a healthy swallow as Rylie and Zan kiss. "How was class?"

His dad is forgotten for all of a couple of seconds while he places a kiss on Rylie's cheek. Then Zan sits, but the act of settling into his seat is paused again. "Tim's back?" Zan rolls the idea over in his head as he sits back and scoots his chair forward a touch. "Well, at least that gets mom off my back about things. Class was fine, instructional. I think I'll pass this one."

"Your mom called the office at eight-thirty this morning to give us the news," Rylie says with a pained smile. And a drink. This mood the Mayor's in, it's been an all day thing, apparently. "Should make family dinners fun, huh? Criminal lawyer and a DA at the same table."

"Delightful." The scotch is finished off and lifted in indication for the waiter to move his ass over here and refill. "And, I expect you to do more than just pass Alexander. You have the drive and the opportunity. If you just pass, it's because you weren't trying."

"And yes, your mother called, at the earliest moment that she could. And repeatedly between clients. She's tremendously upset, so if I were you, I would do everything you can to tiptoe around her appease her. I'm going to go buy her a diamond tonight, see if that helps."

"Like you wouldn't believe," Zan replies in deadpan, looking at Rylie. His brows draw together slightly, apologetic for the situation with his family matters. After a moment he glances toward his dad then picks up the remaining menu, foregoing any arguments about school. For now.

"Good luck with Mom," he continues as he looks over the choices. "That's a hornets nest I'm not going near. I'll take off for the weekend or something before this all becomes my fault."

When the waiter happens by, Rylie leans over to make her order, which might just include a third glass that is going to make the afternoon fun. But at least it's s two hour lunch. Recovery time.

"Good idea. It's been awhile since we had a serious practice, yeah? The desert is calling." She waves her hand off to the distance, like they don't know where the desert is. "Somewhere without tourists this time, maybe," she adds with a crooked smile.

"Or buy a plane ticket to some remote island," is the mayor’s dry reply to that. If his son is going to abandon him to his mother then, well. "I'd go with you but I can't just up and disappear." There's a sigh, shifting in his seat as a new scotch on the rocks is plopped down in front of him, rattling off what he wants to eat and looking to Zan.

"You heard it too," Zan asks with a grin to Rylie. "Think we should head further north this time, there's not much that way. And more to block any amateur footage. If someone randomly happens by again."

His own order is placed as well, after some careful thought. And it'll probably be seen as picky, though he doesn't offer any explanations. "Sorry, Dad," he says after the waiter's moved off with the orders. Though he doesn't sound very sympathetic to the elder Caldecott's plight. Maybe a little amused, instead. "Mom needs you here. Hell, Tim needs you here."

"Judging by her tone this morning, Tim really will need you." Rylie murmurs into her glass as she finishes off what's left of her champagne. Apparently, the lady Caldecott wasn't shy about making her displeasure known.

To Zan, though, she smiles broadly, "Sounds like a good plan. We'll explore a little, find a good spot for camping and… etcetera." That etcetera is added with a teasing smirk. Although, she's probably teasing the Mayor more than Zan.

It's working, as the mayor is solemn, unhappy, and equally towards both his employee and his son. "The family is gathered around, once again, so, no. Actually, I will need you at home. Your brother will need help moving his things in, and Rylie will need to put in a few more hours to re-work my schedule next week to accommodate some meetings." He's being an ass.

A grin spreads, and Zan nods his agreement. "Sounds like a plan to me. Meet at your place around—" But plans aren't finalized because his dad is stepping in. He stares at the older man for a long moment, processing what's being determined and decided. His gaze flicks to Rylie once, then back to the mayor.

"Uh. No?" There's no hiding the defiance now. He sounds almost incredulous that he's being voluntold to help his older brother, despite it being a non-surprise. "Tim's a big boy now, he can handle his own moving. And Rylie can rework your schedule from the desert and we'll text it to you."

Rylie might have had her own, slightly more playful response to James' assness, but when Zan speaks up, she opts not to voice her own version. Instead, she looks around for the waiter. Or, more accurately, her drink. But alas, he is not there yet to save her from family business.

"I can pretty much work from anywhere, when it comes to weekends," she offers up, because clearly she's got a side she wants to win this one. "Zan can even drive while I juggle. No problem!"

“We are family, and I am your father, and when I say that we are helping Timothy move back to Las Vegas and be a buffer between him and the mother that he has so disappointed, then I expect that come Saturday afternoon, your glowing ass will be parked at the house, ready to help him move. Are we understood?" Clearly, he's giving up on Rylie's staying put, not when he concedes that indeed, she can do it pretty much anywhere thanks to modern technology. "Or if you choose to run off to the middle of nowhere with your girlfriend, well…" Well.

"Tim can move his own ass into the house," Zan says again. "I told you, I'm not getting between him and Mom. That's his mess, not mine. He can dig his way out of his own problems." His chin comes up a little when his dad trails off with that well, brows lifting. "What?"

She can't help it. Glowing ass. Laughter spills out of her at that comment, and right in the middle of the bickering. "Geezus, James," she says, head shaking a bit. But amused!

"Are we going to be able to have a nice lunch, or do I have to make up an important meeting we can't miss to get the two of you to have a civil conversation? And if you like, I can call a local moving service to help Timothy out this weekend, which would be more help than Zan anyway. Right?" Sensible!

Now it's Rylie's turn to be glared at by the Mayor.

Who abruptly finishes off the freshly delivered scotch, places his napkin on the table and pushes his chair back. "Have them put mine in takeout and drop it by the office. I'll be there working. Clearly you can't because you're on your third glass of champagne." Odds are that Timothy already has a moving service, but he didn't need Rylie to vocalize it. As for Zan's challenging 'what', he ignores it. Apparently it's gotten too combative for his tastes in a public arena where everyone can see and hear everything if they try hard enough. "Enjoy yourself." Politely - no so - murmured. "Use the card." To pay for the meal. And then he's walking away, plastering a smile on his face for the public.

"You'll have to make up a meeting," Zan answers, though he watches his dad. His brow creases slightly and he leans back a little when it's the elder Caldecott that leaves. His hands scrub over his face and a long breath is let out before a look passes to Rylie. "Sorry. That…" He shakes his head and turns to look over his shoulder and at his dad's back for a long moment, as though considering going after him to settle the disagreement. Somehow.

Rylie lets the Mayor's mood roll out and off her back. She might just be used to it. When he's gone, though, she lets out a relieved sigh. "Oh, not your fault. He's looking forward to this mess probably less than you are. It's making him bitey." That is the technical term.

Zan might be thinking about going after him, but Rylie leans over to kiss him a little more properly with his father gone. "I'm sorry, too, by the way. I couldn't shake him. Apparently, I should have led with offending him." She flags down the waiter, not just for her third glass, but to arrange for the Mayor's meal to get packaged up.

It never forms into action, partly because the elder Caldecott disappears quickly enough. But mostly because he's brought back to the table and company he's with by Rylie's kiss. Which is of course returned. "No reason for you to be sorry," he says, shrugging. "It isn't your fault, we've just… never really gotten along. Ever. Just sorry you had to see that."

She scoots her chair closer to his after the kiss, to scoop up his hand. Apparently she doesn't mind eating left handed. "It's okay. Family stuff is always awkward. And frankly, the man's in my business enough that I should be allowed into Caldecott family arguments anyway." A little too familiar, perhaps. "But I'm glad to see you," she adds with a softer smile.

"And we have plenty of awkward to go around." Zan laces his fingers with hers, head tilting over to press his forehead gently against her shoulder as he lets out a sigh. "You'll be allowed in any number of them now," he chuckles wryly. He sits up after a couple of seconds and looks at her, a smile easing away some of his earlier tension. "Yeah?"

"Oh will I?" Rylie says with a crooked smile. "Do all your girlfriends get to butt in or am I special?" Her hand gives his a squeeze as the food is delivered, their part of it, at least, the waiters being very good about not noticing their closeness. When he sits up, she smiles again and nods just once. "Yeah, totally."

"Any who were before you didn't last long enough to meet my family." Zan lifts her hand to kiss the back of it. "But you are special." He smiles, gazing at her rather than the food that's been finally brought to the table. Once the waiters have moved on to serve others, he leans in to touch his forehead to hers. "I'm glad to see you also."

He sits back after a moment and finally looks at the food that's been set out. "So, do you want to drive out to the desert tonight? I shouldn't even have homework this weekend."

"Oh, flattery," Rylie says, her tone teasing, but her smile is far more genuine. People may be starting to look, but she kisses him again all the same. "Thanks," she adds quietly after, but lingers close to press her forehead back against his. "Yeah, let's do that. The sooner the better, right? As soon as I make a point to prove to your dad that I'm not such a lightweight." She might even been offended at the implication that she wouldn't be able to work after such a lengthy lunch hour.

"Truth," Zan counters with a quiet chuckle. He seems almost oblivious to people looking. Or he just doesn't care. Once again the kiss is returned, unashamed at the public display. "I'll meet you at your place after work then," he suggests. Easier to get away from his family before his parents get home. "Anything you want me to remember to bring?"

Rylie smiles wider at his counter, her hand squeezing his as she leans in to press her cheek against his. "You're special, too, you know," she says in a whisper. But she leans back again a moment later, straightening up. She digs into a pocket, pulling out her key chain. "Here," she says as she works her house key of the ring, "Head over there as soon as you like. Just make sure to let me in when I get home," she says with a chuckle. Her fingers press the small, silver key into his palm. "Just yourself."

"Just a guy who got lucky," Zan murmurs back. He watches her fiddle with her keys, smiling still though there's an edge of curiosity to it as well. He grips her hand briefly, a gentle squeeze, when the key is given over. "I will," he promises, of letting her in. Though there's a touch of amused mischief for a moment, fleeting. Alone. In her house. But then it's gone and he nods, smile easing again. "Just me then."

It isn't missed, as brief as it is and Rylie narrows her eyes playfully. "Don't you get that look," she says, lifting a finger in his direction, "If my music room is messed up when I get home, I will be sooo not happy." The rest of the place is less of a concern, apparently.

An all too innocent grin spreads across Zan's face. "What look," he asks, chuckling. He catches her finger with his hand, leaning in a little. "Your place is going to be just as you left it," he promises. "Mostly."

"That look right there. The one that means you're planning trouble." Rather than stumbling into it. Rylie smiles when he catches her and she leans in, too, to kiss him again. Their poor food, so neglected. "I suppose I can live with 'mostly'. Hopefully."

Zan smiles when she leans in, and kisses her first. "I think you'll like mostly," he muses as he pushes the key into his pocket. "Mostly is pretty good. Usually." He looks at his food again, and finally picks up a fork to pick at it.

"You're being cryptic. I'm pretty sure I should be worried." But instead, Rylie just laughs gently and turns back to her food, too. Although, she keeps her hand in his. "What if we get this wrapped up and go for a walk instead?" Because, apparently, it isn't holding her interest at the moment.

"I don't think you should." Be worried, that is. Zan grins, casting a look over at Rylie. His thumb gently rubs along hers and he looks down at his plate again. "Yeah. You want to?" Even as he asks, he's looking up from the table and for the waiter.

"I absolutely want to," Rylie says with a crooked smile. She lets him arrange it with the waiter, while she grabs her stuff. It wasn't a typical lunch date, but at least they freed up the table quick enough. Once she's on her feet, she looks over his way with a grin, "You can walk me back to work. The long way."

It doesn't take long to settle the bill, on the elder Caldecott's dime of course, and get their food set up to go. Styrofoam clamshells are brought out for the plates, then placed into a bag for easy carrying. The mayor's meal has already been sent back to the office. Zan drags his pack back up onto his shoulders once everything is in order, takes the bag with food inside in one hand and Rylie's with the other. "Ready," he asks as he looks at her.

Rylie takes his hand, holding onto it with a smile as she bumps her hip against him softly. "Ready," she replies before tugging on his arm as she leads them out into the casino proper, and out to the city beyond it.


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