I'd leave the BTC to be with you. I may not be one hundred percent sure

I know what Love is, but THAT'S how I feel about you, and only you.”

Belle shook her head.

“I've told you a million times: I'm not breaking up the club for you."

"I know you have. But that said, we clearly don't need the club's permission to be alone together. We get to be alone all the time. And if you ever want a special night with me, we can just get up and GO."

Belle pursed her Lips and shook her head. "No we can't."

“Why not?"

“Because I'd have to tell the girls I had a romantic date with you. I wouldn't hide that from them."

“You mean the way you hid that we were having blowjobs and oral sex for two weeks? Or how you hid that we were having sex when the whole club was dropping the hammer on Sam?"

Belle frowned and rubbed her forehead. "And I came clean in the end both times. No, we're not doing a romantic date without the BTC's permission."

I shrugged.

“Then ask permission. Sam's had a date. Mari's getting a date tonight. Just... ask."

“Maybe..." Belle took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“Maybe... but not tonight."

“Of course not."

Belle nodded once, firmly, and gave me a hard look.

“Sure you don't want me to write it all down?"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head in the negative.

“Relax. I have this."

I didn't have it.

The date was a disaster. Well, that's overstating it. Everything turned out alright in the end, but it definitely STARTED as a disaster.

First of all, the van broke down in the middle of the freeway. I don't know WHAT went wrong, but all of a sudden the whole vehicle was shaking itself apart and the check engine light came on. I managed to pull us over to the side of the road, turned on the emergency flashers, and stared at Mari with a “Holy shit" expression.

I'll remind you that I went to high school during a time before ubiquitous cell phones. Back in those days, the California Department of Transportation installed Call Boxes every couple of miles on the freeways. I took a guess at the direction of the nearest one, left Mari in the van, and went walking down the shoulder in search of one to call for a tow truck. Fortunately, we only had to wait a half-hour for one to arrive and tow the van to a nearby shop. From there, I called a taxi and got us a ride to the very expensive and exclusive restaurant, only to find that we'd missed our reservation and the hostess at the stand wasn't very hospitable about my explanation of the broken-down van. In the end, right when I'd started complaining to her manager right there in the Lobby that they could at least still fit us in, shy Little Mari decided she couldn't deal with the confrontation anymore and asked if we could just leave and find somewhere else to get dinner.

Across the street was a local diner. You know: red vinyl seats, white countertops, greasy fries, and a waitress fresh off her smoke break

Mari in her nice evening dress and I in my suit and tie were quite out of place, and I was still angry about the treatment we'd received at the restaurant, so the mood wasn't ideal. But Mari was doing her best to placate me, and it wasn't until halfway through our meal that I remembered that I was supposed to be making this night special for HER.