I met Mr. Kent at the Stone Creek restaurant. He was a mild mannered man and he shook my hand graciously from across the table. I couldn't help but think that he looked very familiar as sun set behind the theater across the street casting a soft glow on the polished stone and glass interior of the restaurant.
The waiter approached and set down warm soft bread and some spicy seasoned dipping oil.
"So what brings you to Metropolis?" he asked. "Business," I replied, "and you?" "Oh" he said, adjusting his glasses awkwardly, "I'm a journalist." I nodded as I was munching on the soft bread.
The waiter returned and placed our orders in front of us. The Stone Creek Seafood Broil for me, the New York Strip for him. I ate my meal, enjoying each bite. The Mahi was buttery and delicious, the crab cake crisp on the outside, soft on the inside and served with a Chipotle aioli. Shrimp and Scallops were perfect, served with garlic butter and I alternated bites as to prolong the experience of each. The veggies were fresh and steamed, the couscous large and al dente.
As I closed my eyes and savored the last bite. Suddenly Clark stood up and asked to be excused as he rushed to the door grasping at his tie and shedding his sport coat. A blur of red and blue passed by the window.
WTF? I thought as I paid the bill he stiffed me with. That's the last time I agree to meet a guy from Comic Con for Dinner!