John didn’t forget the arrangement he had made with Angel. It was essentially a meeting of the Court, the fact that there was only two of them was pure coincidence. He’d given her his address, the location of his domicile, the place he rest his head and felt the most safe. It was a big gesture of trust to invite her at all.
It was a squat but wide little ranch house, fake stacked stone as the siding, gray garage door on the attached garage to match the shade of the stones. She’d be allowed to park in the garage if she so chose, he’d open the door for her otherwise she’d be let into the domicile. Attached garage leading to a small entrance way to leave shoes, hang coats, and otherwise leave the outside world behind.
Inside the next room was the kitchen. Black counters, white cupboards, all matching the chess board tiles on the floor. The counters were almost entirely barren except for the toaster and coffee pot resting in one corner but it was almost pristinely clean. Over the counter that served as a half-walled barrier to the next room was the visible dining room.
A soft tone drifted from the connecting room, music dancing along the air into the well-lit dining room. The table was clearly second hand judging by the dings on the sides and scratches along the top, the chandelier style light hanging above the center of the table illuminating the table setting. He’d made sure to keep her food sealed and contained in its take-out container. Didn’t want her to question if it’d been tampered with at all. But in front of each seat at the head and foot of the table was a plate, cutlery, and a wine glass with a bottle of wine in the center.
He’d have invited her in, let her in and then lead her through those passages, tanking and hanging up a coat if she’d had and liked, he’d wait leaning against that half-walled counter for her to look around, get her bearings and make herself comfortable. He was in no rush after all.
“Thai. Shrimp. Extra Spicy if my memory serves me correctly. Welcome, make yourself comfortable my home is your home right now.”
He hadn’t dressed up at all, he was wearing black slacks held up by a matching belt and a cure T-shirt, no shoes on in his own home but socks at least since there was company about. The smell of smoke and nicotine were hard to miss even if the fresh scent of air freshener clung to the air.
@Angel Mark