COVERT INTELLIGENCE IN AUSTIN
I put it in the deep pocket of my coat which is awesome (CIA) so I’d have it handy. I didn’t want to carry a bag that night; it would ruin the drapey look of the oversize lavender coat and my jacquard scarf of twilight colors. I like to dress up when I go to Frenchy’s, as the crowd is stylish in a statement/character kind of way. That night I wore my pointy pewter shoes from Paris (PPP), a shiny champagne skirt (SHUSH), a soft taupe blouse, and my favorite rough shimmery belt(FRISBEE). To complete my character for the evening, I wore trendy giant specs. As this is Austin, I did not feel compelled to wear black to blend in with the locals. I glowed when I removed the coat and took my seat at the bar.
Being a single woman sitting at a bar is typically an uncomfortable experience, but the atmosphere at Frenchy’s is convivial – perhaps just the frenchness of the place makes people open to interesting conversations that aren’t just awkward propositions to “come to my place”. The bartender shook my hand and asked if I would like my usual rose champagne. I declined and ordered the house white and a hamburger. Time to expand my horizons.
The beautiful couple to my left shared an entire bottle of champagne and one hamburger. Excellent choice. The female’s hazy eyes wavered close to mine as she invited me to try out the free “core” classes at an exercise studio that had just opened up downtown.
“Manny here is going out to Vegas this weekend. It will be just us girls. We’ll work out and then go drink. He encourages me to spend time with women and try new things when he is gone.” Manny’s face nodded, close behind her. She took my number and said she’d call in the morning.
I will admit that I did stare at someone standing at the far end of the bar. The blond powerfully- built man sported a tweed driving cap and a stony face. When he was not looking down into his wine glass, he kept his eye on the front door. He was hoping that someone, a certain female, would walk in, I am sure of it. He spoke to Henri, the waiter, as Henri came to pick up orders. Monsieur Hat must be French as the conversations appeared rapid and familiar. He never did catch my stare – he was beautifully absorbed in being a character in his own story.
The place was filling up, and three people took the stools to my right and ordered wine. Farthest away, the brunette woman leaned her back against the wall looking bored and somewhat hostile. In the middle was a smiling, lean man with blond hair pulled neatly into a pony tail at the nape of his neck. Closest to me, the male’s eyes were bluer than I was expecting. His freshly starched shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show a strong neck, but not so much as to be louche. His closely cropped hair was wavy with the perfect amount of grey indicating experience, but not fatigue. He did not wear any ring. I noticed that his Tag Heuer watch was set on Eastern European Time(EET). There was no accent in his regular speech, but as we talked it appeared he could mimic accents well.
My hamburger arrived. “You’re having a hamburger here??,” he asked, as though appalled.
“Yes, I’ve had pretty much everything on the menu, so I thought I’d try this, which I hear is excellent.”
I cut the burger in half and ate the first bite as he watched me. It was the best burger I’d had in Austin. I swallowed and grinned at him. He had not taken his eyes off me, and he was neglecting his friends entirely.
“Yep. It’s excellent alright. You look surprised. Why? Do you have a favorite here?”
He replied that this was his first time at Frenchy’s, that he was from out of town. Motioning to the other two, he said he visiting his friends, who’d said this was a great French restaurant, so he was surprised to see someone eating a hamburger.
“Well, I am a denizen here so I want to try everything,” I smiled at him. He asked what denizen meant, as though he didn’t know. I smiled into his careful eyes again.
I defined denizen and said, “I recently moved here. I haven’t been out all that much but I heard about this place from some guy in Chicago, of all places. It’s pretty much the only place I go. Your friends have brought you to my favorite restaurant in Austin. Good choice. What else do you plan to do while you’re here?”
He didn’t answer the question right away, but returned one to me, “Where did you move from?”
“Most recently, Washington, D.C.” I looked away from his rather-too-probing stare.
He came back, “It sounds like you’ve moved around quite a bit. Are you with the CIA?”
“Yes, I am!” I flirted with him.
“Do you carry a gun?” he continued, glancing down at the bulging pocket of my coat which I’d draped on my stool under my bottom.
“But of course!” My ears twitched.
I pulled my wallet out of the pocket he’d looked at, and laughed, “This is just a wallet, silly man.” I was enjoying bantering with someone clever. “Now tell me what’s on your agenda while you are in Austin. Where did you say you are visiting from?”
Waving his hand vaguely, he did not say where he was from. He rattled off a list of Austin’s top things to do. He had certainly done his research. Then he said he would be watching the English Beat the next night. I could not believe the synchrony, the pure perfection of it, the joy of puns and wordplay. It is well known in certain circles how gleefully I respond to the English language, well-used. Indeed, I had encountered a master storymaker.
I rejoined, “The English Beat! I loved them when I used to cycle a lot. They would play English Beat at the velodrome to get everyone pumped up.”
He looked to his two friends. “The velodrome…” as though this were significant, and proved a point they had discussed earlier. The woman glared and the blond man leaned in closer.
They told me where the concert would be, and I thanked them for giving me this information.
László, who had by now shared his name, looked intently at me and said, “You see, I come to your town, a visitor, to show you all the things you have been missing.” My heart got a little stuck in my throat, but, never down for long, I came back with, “I’m certain you’re going to have a good time here and be glad you came.”
We unlocked our eyes and smiled expertly at each other again.
“Tomorrow then!” he stated with no uncertainty.
“Perhaps.” I stated in return, knowing full well I would be there.
I smiled to myself when I returned home that night. I removed my wallet and the other object from my pockets before hanging up the coat in the hall closet.
The computer screen flashed, indicating I had a message. Just business, the Lithuanian defense attaché wanted to meet me. Business could wait. The English Beat was on my mind.