The restaurant was very luxurious. The chairs, the tables, they all shined as if being made up of gold. It was one big room with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. A waiter was standing by a table in the center of it all; he was talking to the man sitting—the one man sitting. That was the most surprising part. All that space, but there were only two people: the waiter and the man sitting. What a waste of space, huh. Millie was lost in her thoughts when a voice interrupted them.

“May I take your jacket, mademoiselle?”

“What? Oh, yes. Thanks.”

Millie’s dress was wine red; long; with white, curvy threads. It was an old Bardot dress Millie borrowed from Emma. For the latter, it was too old to wear it again, but since Emma just wore it once, it was in a perfect state.

She approached the table and saw his date: Ewan. He was wearing a slim fit black suit, a white shirt, and an obviously expensive silver watch. Both of his hands were on the table, his head was leaning to the left a little, as if he was inspecting her while she approached him. He stood up and greeted her: “Emma? It is a pleasure. I had not seen you before, but you surely are beautiful as I’ve heard.” Millie didn’t feel any emotions from him but was happy he did not see through her charade.

His eyes went from her face, to her neck, to her uncovered shoulders, and then the rest of the dress. Is he inspecting me? Millie did not know how to feel, so she just started to clench her fists.

Following Emma’s advice, she did not wear hair extensions and did not even straighten her hair. “You can’t look too pretty, honey”, Emma had told her, then paused for a moment and gave a smirk. “Well, it’s not like you’re that pretty anyways, but I wouldn’t like you to show much skin or anything too provocative. I mean let’s not take any risks.”

“He’ll find out, Emma. He’ll find out as soon as he sees me and you know it.”

“We talked about this already. I don’t care. Let’s just hope he doesn’t care that much. I read he’s rejected every date, so there’s a chance he doesn’t care about this date that much. I really need you to go.”

“Why? I mean, just go and tell him you don’t want to meet him. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Shh, my Millie Vanilla.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Her shout left Emma speechless.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, Emma. I think I’m just nervous.”

“It’s okay. Anyway, girl, I don’t have to tell you everything. The only thing you need to know is that this is a good deal for you. Isn’t it?”

Emma was remembering the whole thing but was brought back to her senses by the inquisitive look of Ewan. Come on, girl. You haven’t said a word! It’s getting kinda weird, don’t you think?

“Eehm—”

“Do you want to take a seat, mademoiselle?” the waiter asked.

Millie nodded and sat on the chair the waiter had pulled out.

“So are you going to say hello at least?” said Ewan, arms crossed across the chest, back on his seat again.

“Oh, yes, hi. It’s me, Millie.”

“Millie?”

“Emma!” she was smiling awkwardly, a drop of sweat running on one side of her face already. “I mean. My friends call me Millie, but I’m Emma. Call me Emma, please, to avoid any confusion.”

“O-kay, I guess,” Ewan took a sip of wine. “Do you want to drink something first or would you maybe prefer to see what’s on the menu?”

“Drink, please, something, cold, better. It’s hot in here, isn’t it?”

Her dark skin was looking brighter and brighter now that she was sweating even more. She had left her glasses on following other of Emma’s advices, but she had to take them out. She took a handkerchief from her small purse to dry her face.

“Emma, are you okay?”

She was looking for help around her. There was no one but the waiter.

“Emma!”

“Who?”

“You”

“Me?”

“Of course. Aren’t you Emma?”

“Yes, call me Millie.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know!”