Mr. & Mrs. Bright

It was a lovely restaurant. The same old stereotypical candlelight dinner with two people who love each other as if it was their life's work. As if holding each other, eating together, smiling at each other was their soul reasoning for existence.

As if.

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Vaughn Bright was going to be in deep, deep trouble when he finally got to the Pierre’s for their date. It’s not his fault that everything went to hell so quickly. Nor was it his fault that he hit every single red stoplight in twelve miles.

“Not my fault,” he thought to himself. “She can’t be mad at me for this.”

Vaughn sped as fast as he could, hoping to not get a ticket. The last he needed was to be late and explain a giant fine. Again.

Pulling into the parking garage, he went through the tedious process of paying for a tiny, insignificant piece of paper that would let the security know he did indeed pay to park a hunk of metal on a concrete slab.

Vaughn checked his watch, the silver of the cheap looking Rolex he wore every day, as he muttered a curse. Twenty minutes late wasn’t so bad, right? This could be fixed by ordering an expensive wine or bringing her flowers in the morning.

Quickening his steps, he brushed back the already perfectly gelled back hair to rid the senseless and useless thoughts. A nervous habit he picked up from years of making sure to look innocuous. She was going to be furious either way. After all, he was late for their anniversary dinner.

Vaughn paused around the corner, trying to peer through the italicized letters etched into the glass.

No sign of her.

He blew out a slow breath. Just because he can’t see her doesn’t mean she isn’t in there. She could be at a corner table, like he knew she liked. Or even in the bathroom fixing her makeup or hair.

The greeter was exquisitely dressed, like always. Throughout the ten years they’ve come here like clockwork for this special day. The woman before him wore the same white, crisp blouse, same sleek black pants, and same hair smoothed to perfection in a long pony tail.

“I have a reservation for two under Bright. My wife should be here already. I’m afraid I’m late,” he admitted, hoping the comment would earn him maybe a discount on the wine selection. People often took pity on a man late for dinner and if he could use it to his advantage, he would. After all, that’s how he stayed alive.

She blinked, reading down at her electric notepad that he was sure held some form of a chatbox for communicating with other staff. No one gossiped like the working staff, especially when their clients had money.

The woman, “Aly” according to her nametag, looked up. “You’re actually a little early. It says we received a call earlier asking to push back the reservation slightly. Please, right this way,” Aly waved a hand to lead Vaughn to the table.

His dark brows furrowed. He didn’t call to move the time back. Did she know I was going to be late, or is it because she’s late?

Sure enough Aly led him to a table in the back of the room. In a corner, under a beautiful miniature crystal chandelier with only two seats.

Vaughn took the seat facing the corner, which kept his back to the room and every instinct inside him told him it was a bad idea. It went against every training regime he had learned and every tactic he used to keep his head lead free.

“Thank you,” he addressed the hostess, watching her retreat to her podium.

Pierre’s was quiet with the fewer patrons dining tonight. Which was common and the reason why he suggested this place the very first anniversary dinner. Warm, soft light illuminated the room in gentle creams. Hints of gold glinted when they caught the light. Burgundy napkins and table runners added further details with some embossing's of some glittering symbols and Fleur-de-lis patterns.

Grabbing the wine menu, Vaughn saw a speck on his right hand. Looking closer, he realized it was a crimson reminder of his day. The very reason why he was late for the original time.

Irritation flooded him. If she had only told him it got pushed back a little he wouldn’t have been forced to rush things. The job could’ve gone much smoother and he could’ve done what he needed to much cleaner.

Now, instead, he sat there with a proverbial smoking gun of information with too much time on his hands to over process it.

Vaughn wiped off the blood speck more forcefully than he needed, and was thankful for the color of the napkins. Wouldn’t be the first time the color was used to hide something unsavory from his day job.

Light clacking of heels filled his head, the tempo slow but purposeful.

A grin curved his lips, knowing she was finally here.

Vanessa did nothing to hide the sound of her black stilettos on the near black bricked floor. She had long learned a woman could use anything and everything to distract others to gain what she needed. And she did.

Moving closer, she watched her husband sit up straighter. He had cleaned up from what was no doubt a stressful day at his ‘office’.

Vaughn stood, pulling the chair back for her. The smile she sent him had flutters shooting up his throat and clogging it like a vise. “You look beautiful,” he told her, returning to his own seat.

Vanessa faced the room. Her back to the wall was her preferred seat in public. No one could sneak up on her. “Thank you, love. You look amazing as well. How was your day at the office?”

The view of the couple from anyone else would look normal. Caring and intimate even. Taking a second look, maybe even a third, some might notice the subtle oddities that befell them.

Though Vaughn had taken the seat for her, he had not touched her. She had not leaned into him, either.

They each knew something that they shouldn’t.

The couple sat stiff-backed on their respective wooden, burgundy cushioned chairs in slithering silence. It felt almost alive. This crawling, cloying feeling that was nearly tangible between atoms around them.

He smiled at her, teeth dazzling in the lower light. They very well might’ve been the most attractive couple at Pierre’s that evening. “I had some hiccups that forced me to rush more than I liked, but it all worked out. I got more information on that project we are working on, so I imagine I’ll be gone some more in the upcoming weeks.”

Vanessa had found out some rather important information today, too. But it was about her husband, and was tempted to believe it was all some mountainous farce. It would be easier that way.

Shifting in her seat slightly, she brushed the blonde hair over her shoulder. It was perfectly curled for their anniversary tonight. Her makeup was immaculate, as was the black lace dress that hugged her toned figure. “That’s good. I moved the reservation back slightly. I’m sorry if you had to wait longer. I ran late in business meetings.”

“Not at all. I would wait as long as it takes to see you. Especially today,” he replied with a sultry smile that held promises for later. Vaughn wasn’t so overly exhausted that he would willingly put himself in the dog house by admitting he was also late.

The couple talked in almost pitiful small talk while they waited for their food to arrive. Several members of the staff all had tablets. Many of them were typing away while stealing quick glances at the pair. Perhaps people were gossiping about the feeling of off-ness from the two.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Vaughn started, leaning back as he took a sip from the chilled red wine he had ordered.

Given the years of practice, Vanessa was able to keep her features schooled and under tight control. ”What is it?”

Silence returned for a moment while Vaughn wracked his brain on how to broach the subject. If he gave her all the information he had, she would have all the cards. He needed to be smart about what he could omit or admit.

“Well, what do you know about my job?” he asked, needing to see exactly what she knew and how much she remembered him telling her throughout the years. Every well crafted half-truth or white lie. If what he learned had even a semblance of being true, it would change everything.

“I know you work for the government and collect data. The project you mentioned involves something about… programming?” she guessed, wrinkling her tan nose.

Vaughn had to remember to breathe when he looked at her again. Doe brown eyes almost seemed to bore into his pale blue ones. There were many late nights and early mornings he spent just gazing into her eyes. If he looked hard enough, he could find the answer to any question in them. He prayed the information was false.

He cleared his throat. “Right. Something like that. Anyway, something came up when we were doing a deep dive into potential data breaches and individuals could pose a threat in the future.”

Vanessa’s heart stuttered in her chest. Only from the years of interrogation training was she able to keep her head clear. “And you assume I could be one of these people? What exactly are you asking me?”

“I have the Truffle Tagliatelle with roasted asparagus and the Sweet Potato Agnolotti with lobster?” a waitress asked, forcing the conversation to a dead stop like it hit a mountain going 85mph.

The waitress bringing them their meal distracted the couple.

Vaughn felt the sweat starting on the back of his neck as he watched his wife eat. He didn’t have an answer for her accusation that didn’t send him to the dog house or her to federal prison. Or, if it really was true, sent him to meet his maker.

Vanessa used the excuse of food to gather intel. Her husband’s tells were always obvious. Sometimes, she wondered if they were too obvious. With what she discovered today, they might very well have been.

Sounds of knives and forks on glass dishes filled the room. Softer steps of the staff’s black toed shoes took residence in the gaps of ambiance. Even faint cello music drifted in from speakers hidden somewhere.

“If he isn’t going to answer me, then it’s my turn,” she thought to herself.

“I discovered something in my business meeting also,” Vanessa broke their silence.

Vaughn’s incoming mouthful of lobster hesitated a fraction of a second before reaching its target. What were the odds that she knew?

Vanessa smiled, sipping the deep red wine that matched her lips. “It involves you directly, actually. Would you like to guess?”

Vaughn sat straighter, right hand gripping the handle for his steak knife tighter than he intended. “How are business meetings involving interior design directly involved with me?”

She smiled again as she caught his hand movement. Slowly, she matched his position, hand going down to her black clutch in her lap. There, in the tiny zipper inside held the North American Mini .22. Its size was perfect for the clutch.

Keeping her hand under the table, she made eye contact with her husband. They had changed, just slightly, into something more akin to what she had learned about him.

“I think it’s time we drop the charade, don’t you? I never was one much for clowns,” she said, hinting at what she knew he knew.

The couple stared at each other. Almost as if they were waiting for the other to call their bluff.

“How long have you known?” he asked her, posture resembling a statue.

“How long have I known about you, or that you know about me?” she retaliated, fingers edging over the lever to click the safety off.

Vaughn didn’t blink. He didn’t dare move and risk it. The fact she knew about him was horrifying enough, but to know that she somehow knew what he had discovered was enough to make his skin crawl.

Evading the questions entirely, he settled for something else just as dire to know. “What do you plan to do about it? Seeing as this is our anniversary dinner, after all, I assume you wouldn’t want to be stuck with the bill.”

Vanessa weighed her options. He didn’t seem like someone who was ready to stab her or retaliate for the lie that he had been fed since the very beginning. Hell, she wasn’t even all that upset by it. She had done the very same thing to him and he wasn’t acting angry. All of his tells were now useless.

“That depends on what you plan to do with what you know now,” she asked back, needing to know whether or not to cock the gun, seeing as it was now off safety.

“It would be a shame to have to shoot my husband on our anniversary," she thought to herself. The idea of harming her husband, even if their relationship was built on a facade, stung her heart more than she was willing to admit.

Vaughn took deep, careful breaths. She knew about him. All of it. Every lie, every ‘business trip', every single instance where he wasn’t where he said he was and doing nothing close to what he had described.

But, if she really was like him, even in opposing companies, were they really so different?

“I don’t want to do something I don’t have to,” he answered, being honest with himself. “I think… maybe… we could just stay out of each other’s hair and it will all be alright,” he added warily.

Vanessa contemplated his option with an itchy trigger finger. Her instincts told her anyone, anyone, knowing about her was an immediate death sentence. As she assumed it would mean the same for him, what he proposed was tempting. Would he be so honest to actually mean his words? They had both lied, stole, and cheated in nearly every way they could to survive their jobs.

But, if he was willing to maybe push it all aside, so could she.

“And what? Just go about our normal days knowing the truth about one another?” she countered, ready to fire if necessary.

“I’m going to Hong Kong next month,” he offered up, hand releasing the knife as he skewered more lobster with the other. “I’ll be gone for a week or so.”

That shocked her. Her grip on the gun loosened, jaw wide open at the confession.

“The Madison job?”

He grinned with a closed mouth before swallowing. “Jealous?”

Vanessa relaxed slightly. Maybe this could actually work out. Maybe they didn’t need to throw away ten years just because they worked in different companies.

“You have a mole,” she offered up, wanting to show if he trusted her, she could try and reciprocate.

Vaughn’s pale blue eyes almost popped out of his head. “That’s how you knew?”

“My people are very good. We’ve been in your company for years.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth, debating a response. How long had she actually known about him? Clearly she knew about his company, as did his own about hers. “The Belmonts at the end of the block have a cousin, Arnold. He’s the janitor at your ‘design’ company.”

Vanessa smirked, putting the gun safety back on and back into the clutch. “It seems we have some catching up to do. If this is to work, we must be honest from here on out.”

Vaughn reached his hand out in an offer to shake. Semantics, really. Honor among thieves was rare enough. Trust between spies was more like walking a tightrope between nuclear energy and Chernobyl. Worse if they were in opposite companies.

Vanessa slowly took his hand, spotting the steel wedding ring he still wore.

“It’s good to meet you, Vanessa. I’m Vaughn,” he went through the motions of introducing himself as if they were strangers.

Humoring him, she played along. “Hello, Vaughn.”

Slowly, they ate, and the energy shifted again. The slithering feeling had been replaced with something equally charged.

It was exciting. For the first time since they’ve known each other, they spilled every lie and situation where they had deceived each other. It was thrilling, addicting, to be able to release some of the burden from someone you kept everything from.

Hours passed by until Aly told them they were closing for the night and had to leave.

Hand in hand, they picked up Vaughn’s car from the parking garage, seeing a traffic citation under the front wipers for speeding.

Together, the couple started fresh. This time, it would be a better marriage. Maybe even more fun.