Last Hope, Book One: Onslaught Read Online Free PDF Page A

friends call me Budd.”
    The French woman stood up and shook his hand. Her touch was gentle. She was about five feet and five inches tall, with a slim build and a perfectly flat stomach. Her dress ended a little above her knees, and her lower legs looked strong and athletic. “My name is Juliette, and it is a pleasure to meet you. But really, it is not necessary for you to buy me dinner. My boyfriend will arrive at any moment. He is often late.”
    “Then he’s a schmuck. And I’m sorry, sweet cheeks, but it is necessary for me to buy you dinner, because if I don’t get something ordered soon, I won’t get fed. And I’m starving.” Budd released her soft hand and nudged the empty seat out from under the table. He sat down.
    Juliette remained upright, her eyes bearing down on him as he took up the menu. She folded her arms across her chest.
    Budd kept his eyes on the menu. “Listen, sugar, I’ll do you a deal. Your boyfriend isn’t one of those opinionated, vegetarian types, is he?”
    “No, Monsieur Ashby.”
    “Great. Then I’ll just order a big, juicy steak, and if he turns up before I eat it, I’ll walk away. Everyone likes steak. So, what do you want?”
    Juliette sat down and a mischievous smile spread from the corners of her mouth. Budd noticed how impossibly white and straight her teeth were. It was not a natural sight, more of a dentist’s showcase. “I will have the mushroom escalope as my appetizer, and the cheese and bean risotto for my entrée. I am one of those opinionated, vegetarian types, Monsieur Ashby.”
    “To each their own, lady. But answer me one question. Does it really give you more gas?”
    “Gas, Monsieur ?”
    “You know, does it make you fart more?”
    Juliette giggled. “Perhaps, Monsieur. ”
    Budd examined the section of steaks and selected the biggest one on the page. It was still nowhere near the size he would eat in his hometown of Detroit, but large enough to take the edge off his hunger. For a starter, he chose the tomato soup. When he went to lay down the menu, he found a waiter stood at the side of the table.
    “My name is Joseph and I will be your Table Manager tonight. Can I take your orders, sir?”
    “You certainly can,” Budd answered happily. He motioned for Juliette to say hers before reeling off his own requests. The waiter noted them down on a small pad and then tucked it into his waistcoat pocket. “Thank you, sir, madam; your appetizers will be served shortly. If there is anything else I can help you with, please do not hesitate to ask.”
    “Would you open the champagne for us, please, Joseph?”
    With a smile, the waiter scooped up the bottle from the bucket of ice and eased the cork out until it popped into the palm of his hand. He poured a small amount into one of the glasses, ready for tasting, but Budd waved him on. “I’m sure it’s fine, Joey. Pour away. And leave the bottle.”
    When the two tall glasses were full, the waiter placed the bottle back on the table. He picked up the ice bucket and then stood with it at his side. “Is there anything else, sir, madam?”
    “No. That will be all, thank you, Joseph,” Juliette said.
    With a slight bow, the waiter hurried away.
    Juliette took hold of the champagne flute and wet her lips. “It is my favorite, Monsieur Ashby. Please, try some.”
    Budd did. “That’s not bad stuff. But, hey, you can drop this ‘ Monsieur Ashby’ crap. You even called the table guy by his first name. My friends call me Budd.”
    “Then, I shall call you ‘ Monsieur Ashby’. After all, I am simply a woman whose evening you have interrupted. Humoring you until my boyfriend arrives seems like it will cause fewer problems than insisting you leave now. Do you not agree?”
    “I guess, when you look at it like that, ‘ Monsieur Ashby’ is good enough for me, too. So, sweetie, what is it you do? Sparkly drinks like this can’t be cheap.”
    “You do not recognize me?”
    “Should I?”
    “I am a singer. I