by Grace Risata
That was all very generic and could apply to anyone. I knew he had no patience judging by the way he freaked out waiting for Cara to grace us with her presence.
“Go on,” he whispered as though intrigued.
“This is your head line,” I mumbled, not even completely sure that was the name of one of the lines. Since the spot I pointed to seemed a bit shorter than the others, I decided to work with it. “You don’t take very long to make decisions. Once your mind is made up, you aren’t easily swayed.”
Roman grunted at that last statement, but didn’t argue with me.
“What about the last one?” he questioned. “Finish the reading.”
Shit. That’s the heart line. What the hell am I supposed to say about that one? I have no clue about anything related to his love life. My answer would either make or break the entire conversation. Naturally I hesitated, uncertain, not wanting this to end so I would have to let go of his hand.
“It’s your love line,” I informed him, tracing it with my fingertip. “This happens to be one of the most difficult to decipher. You’ve actually…you’ve searched for love and acceptance your entire life but haven’t found it yet. Once you do meet your soul mate, it will be a rocky road to lasting happiness. Don’t give up and have faith in your lady. She won’t let you down.”
I had a fifty-fifty shot that Roman wasn’t involved with anyone at the moment. While I’m not much of a gambler, it didn’t really matter. Either he’d laugh at how wrong I am, or just nod his head to shut me up. No harm, no foul.
Unfortunately I must have said something to offend him, because he ripped his hand away, narrowed his eyes, and reprimanded me.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s not wise to play games with people, Andi. Would you like to see how it’s really done?”
I nodded my head, having no clue what he was referring to. Roman grabbed both my hands, I got another small electric shock, and he proceeded to give me an expert analysis.
“You start by asking your customer which is their dominant hand. Which is yours?”
“Right.”
He discarded my left hand and cradled the right while giving it a thorough examination. His hands were warm, and it would be a lie to say that his touch didn’t affect me. I felt my heart pound as I broke into a light sweat. The way he stared at me with such intensity was completely unnerving.
“The bottom line is your life line. It’s the faintest of all the lines on your hand. This means your life hasn’t even really begun yet. It gets darker as it goes, so you will eventually lead a full life with many wonderful experiences.”
He was probably correct. Although I was already thirty years old, I hadn’t done much in the way of living. No husband, no kids, no wild adventures of world travel, nothing terribly fulfilling. But that’s okay. I had time to do all those things.
“The middle line is your head line. Yours ends near the center of your palm. You’re a logical thinker who needs all the facts laid out in front of her,” he explained. “Your heart line is the most interesting out of them all. It’s the darkest and most complex.”
“What does that mean?” I asked breathlessly.
“You’re not very social, and you prefer solitude instead of being surrounded by a large group of people. Loyal to a fault, completely stubborn, and somewhat naïve. You like to think the best of people and that causes you to suffer when they inevitably let you down. Don’t trust so easily, Andi. Things are not always what they seem.”
Roman dropped my hand, pivoted in his seat, and turned to stare out the window signaling the end of my palm reading and our conversation.
What the hell was that? How do you go from looking into my soul one minute, to pretending I wasn’t even in the car at all?
“Where did you learn how to do that?” I asked softly.
“It’s not too difficult to tell people what they want to hear. Everyone has more similarities than differences. It’s not rocket science,” he replied with a shrug, not bothering to make eye contact.
Before I could further ponder this strange development, we arrived at our destination and I was treated to the mouth watering smells of fresh baked pizza. Eager to exit the cramped car and stretch my legs, I was one of the first ones to reach the menu board on the outside of the restaurant.
I can honestly say that everything was quite impressive. From the outdoor bistro seating to the delicious menu options to the rustic Italian décor…this was a great choice.
It wasn’t long before Cara joined me in perusing the menu.
“See what catches your eye, ladies, and then we can all go in and order,” Tyler suggested. “You pay at the counter inside and then put your numbered card at the end of the table out here. The waiter brings the food when it’s ready.”
Cara sniffed in disappointment, although I wasn’t quite sure what pissed her off.
“I don’t eat carbs, so I’m obviously not ordering pizza,” she explained in annoyance. “I’m not thrilled about eating outdoors, but there’s clearly no other option. This humidity isn’t ideal at all. Why do we order at the counter instead of the waiters coming to the table? That’s absurd. This appears to be an upscale restaurant and not some tacky burger joint. Who pays at the counter before they eat instead of afterwards like a normal place?”
“Maybe too many people ran off and didn’t pay?” I offered, not really caring. I took my eyes off the menu long enough to notice the food on other patron’s tables. The pizzas were huge. I actually saw two sizes: humongous and very large. I assume the ‘very large’ size with six pieces was meant to be shared between two people as kind of a ‘date night’ type deal. The gigantic one with eight triangular wedges would have been perfect for a group of four.
I turned to Roman and asked him a favor.
“She’s not going to eat pizza and I can’t handle one of these by myself. Is there any way you’d split one with me? If I get the plain cheese, will you eat two of the six slices? I don’t like to waste food.”
“You’re not going to be able to eat four pieces,” he replied.
“Don’t underestimate me. I might not look like much,” I advised, pointing to myself, “but I like to eat.”
While Cara was a statuesque five feet eight without shoes, I was a good four inches shorter than her. My friend was voluptuous in all the right places, but had a tiny waist and dainty features. On the other hand, I was completely unremarkable. Average weight, standard build, decent chest, ample ass. I was by no means in need of a diet, but I wasn’t going to blow over in the wind either. You could call me ‘Average Andi’ and it would apply to my appearance. Straight shoulder length chestnut hair, brown eyes, and sparkly white teeth rounded out my look. My smile was probably the best thing about me, which isn’t saying much.
“What are you getting, babe?” Tyler asked Cara, wrapping an arm around her and nuzzling her neck. From the looks of things, he would rather be home undressing her and not out in public with other people. I knew for a fact that it hadn’t taken them very long to seal the deal. Cara doesn’t really kiss and tell, but she felt compelled to let me know that her current paramour was the best she’d ever had.
“I’ll probably just get a salad,” she replied with a heavy sigh. “Let’s go order at the counter.”
The four of us stood in line and I was pleased with the fact that several people were ahead of us. A busy restaurant usually indicated exceptional food that drew crowds. I have to admit that the menu definitely piqued my interest. It wasn’t just a ‘cheese pizza,’ but rather a Margherita Pizza with basil, fresh buffalo mozzarella, San Marzano Tomatoes, and extra virgin olive oil. So fancy!
When it was finally our turn, Tyler ordered a Four Meat Extravaganza and then motioned for Cara to get whatever she wanted. I smiled inwardly, knowing exactly what was coming. My friend liked to order with flair.
“I’ll take the Arugula salad with fat free Ranch dressing on the side, no cheese, no croutons, hold the onion, and add e
xtra cucumbers. Make sure the lettuce isn’t wilted or it will get sent back. As for my drink…I’d like a glass of Chardonnay.”
She then smiled sweetly at me to indicate it was my turn.
“I’ll take the Margherita pizza with a bottled water, please.”
Digging in my pocket for some method of payment, I scrounged up a ten and a five and handed them over to the cashier. Stepping off to the side, I looked at Roman to see what he was getting. Instead of telling the lady what he wanted, the man just stared at me with a stunned expression for some odd reason. He actually blinked rapidly in succession and narrowed his eyes as though trying to solve a mystery. If you ask me, he’s the mystery around here.
“Mushroom and Pepperoni pizza with a beer. Whatever you have on tap.”
I waited for Roman to pull out some cash, but Tyler stuck his credit card in the chip reader and paid the tab. It didn’t go without notice that the cashier deducted my fifteen bucks from the total before he paid. So…I’m the only one going Dutch and Cara’s boyfriend is footing the bill for everyone else? Weird.
Once we got seated at a table of Cara’s choosing…not too far out into ‘no man’s land’ and not too close to the bathrooms…we waited for the food. However, our methods of passing the time were very, very different.
My friend busted out her compact, did a cursory make-up check, and began to snap pictures of herself, Tyler, the restaurant, and anything else that might be Friendbook worthy. Suddenly her attention turned to the other two people seated at the table. Her phone pointed in our direction and she said, “Give me a pose that says you’re super excited about tonight.”
“No!” we both insisted at exactly the same time.
After turning to me in surprise, Roman explained himself.
“I don’t do pictures. I’m not photogenic.”
This confession caused me to laugh rather loudly.
“Are you kidding me? You’re like the most photogenic person in the whole place. Have you not noticed all the ladies staring at you?”
If this were really a double date, I wouldn’t have pointed that out. But honestly, over half the females in the restaurant turned their heads to appreciate Roman’s fine form the second he got out of the car. The other half of the ladies were either under ten or over seventy.
Roman gave me one of his signature scowls and Tyler quickly made an effort to smooth things over.
“My cousin is a very private person and he doesn’t like attention. If he doesn’t want his ugly ass face on social media, who cares? Just take more pictures of us, Cara.”
Tyler leaned in to kiss his girlfriend and they proceeded to launch into a full-fledged photo shoot while I played with a paper napkin and tried to piece together the puzzle of Roman.
“Why didn’t you want your picture taken?” he asked, leaning over to speak quietly in my ear, most likely desperate to occupy himself with something other than the antics of our table mates.
“I don’t feel the need to document my every waking moment online. The whole point of trying to pretend to be interesting in order for strangers to ‘like’ your posts seems kind of idiotic to me. I’d rather experience life the old fashioned way by actually living it instead of staging opportunities to make myself look cool. I’m an old soul.”
“So you’re basically telling me that you have no Friendbook profile? I find that hard to believe.”
“Everyone has a profile,” I explained, uncapping my bottled water and taking a large drink after the server brought our beverages. “I just don’t post much on mine. Aside from sharing the occasional funny dog video or promoting new museum exhibitions, I stay away from all that crap.”
“I’m not addicted to it either. I don’t give a fuck what someone had for breakfast, what they did last night, or the results of the latest quiz they took. Newsflash…no one cares that you’re destined to marry the famous actor from the superhero movies. It’s all bullshit.”
“I’ll drink to that!” I raised my water bottle, he tapped it with his beer, and nearly gulped down half the glass at once.
“You two seem to be getting along pretty well over there,” Tyler remarked in amusement. “How about including us in on the conversation?”
“You know me,” Roman muttered, “Always the charming one. I’m simply here to be entertaining.”
“No,” his cousin not-so-gently reminded him, “You’re here to get to know my girlfriend better. We’ve been so caught up with each other the past few weeks that I’ve completely neglected everyone else. I want to merge the two worlds because Cara is such an important part of my life.”
He actually scooted her chair even closer and began to play with her hair. If this shit keeps up all night long, I’m going to throw up in my mouth. No wonder I never go out with Cara and her dudes. It’s nauseating.
“Fine,” Roman said with an air of extreme disinterest. “Tell me something about yourself, Cara. All I know is that Tyler met you at work and he can’t keep his mouth shut about how amazing you are. What should I know about you?”
With all the attention on her, my friend positively lit up with glee.
“Well, I work at a jewelry store…actually I’m the manager…and Tyler came in one day looking for a gift for his grandma’s birthday.”
“Oh, he did, did he?” Roman questioned with a sudden gleam in his eye. I couldn’t help but notice Tyler shoot him a warning look that appeared none too friendly.
“Yes. Is she also your grandma? You know…since you’re related,” she explained, stating the obvious.
“No, babe,” her boyfriend insisted, answering on his cousin’s behalf. “Different sides of the family. Go on with the story. Roman will keep his mouth shut and quit interrupting.”
In response, the man sitting next to me simply raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Anyway, Tyler came in to the store and he seemed so confused about what would make the perfect gift. I showed him all sorts of watches, earrings, and necklaces, but he finally decided on a tasteful bracelet. Obviously I was smitten with his handsome face and the fact he was such a sweet grandson. He blatantly flirted with me, asked for my number, and the rest is history.”
“Really, babe? You’re the one that kept giving me a killer smile and touching my hand from across the display case. You’re the flirt.”
They began to shamelessly coo and gaze into each other’s eyes while making sappy faces.
“Is there any hope of us getting a different table?” I asked Roman quietly so as not to be rude.
“Probably not. The food should be ready any minute and I want to make sure it goes to the right place.”
“I think I’m losing my appetite,” I admitted.
“What? Already? Come on, Andi. Toughen up. You’ve got to prove to me that you can really eat four pieces of pizza. Don’t go trying to make excuses about those two being so gag-worthy that you’ve failed the mission.”
“It’s not anything noteworthy to eat four pieces. It’s not like I’m a professional eater and I need to win the prize for sucking down the most slices in a given time frame.”
“But if you were in one of those competitions to see who ate the most…what food would be your best chance of winning?”
“Pancakes,” I replied without hesitation. “I can pound down those suckers like no tomorrow. What about you?”
“French fries.”
I erupted in laughter. What the hell kind of an answer was that?
“Are you kidding me? No one eats those in competition. You have to be able to count the food. Slices of pizza, number of hot dogs, pancakes, pie, and stuff like that. How are you going to count French fries?”
“It’s a single item!” he insisted with conviction. “You can totally count a French fry.”
Before we could debate the important matter any further, our food arrived. The men dug in to their pizzas, Cara pushed lettuce leaves around with her fork, and I took my first bite of Heaven.
Groaning in unrestra
ined joy, I closed my eyes and savored the taste. This was, without a doubt, the best pizza I had ever eaten in my life. Instead of red sauce, the base was olive oil. This gave a light touch instead of a heavy sauce that bogged down the whole experience. Gobs of delicious cheese covered the entire surface, and I couldn’t take a bite without a huge string leading from the slice to my mouth. Messy, but so worth it.
However, the best part was surprisingly the tomatoes.
“Cara,” I murmured in awe, “Look at these things.”
“I know you don’t like tomatoes, Andi,” she responded. “Just pick off the large chunks and put them in my salad. I’ll eat them. Don’t freak out about it.”
“No…these are magnificent. Normally I would be horrified at large stewed tomatoes on a pizza instead of sauce, but this is unreal. Try one!”
I picked off a tiny bite of perfectly ripened tomato and plopped it on her plate.
“Ooh,” she purred after sticking it in her mouth. “Fantastic!”
“I’ve never heard you make that noise before,” Tyler confessed while licking his lips and staring at Cara suggestively. “Save some for later, babe.”
She rolled her eyes and demanded he give her all the tomatoes from his pizza. This led to him feeding her off his fork while Roman stared in disgust at their over the top antics.
“Hey,” I said while nudging him in the arm, “There’s no way I’m not eating four pieces of this. It’s phenomenal.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he offered with a genuine smile. “It’s nice to see a woman who appreciates a good meal instead of ordering rabbit food and pushing it around on her plate.”
Obviously there was no mystery about who he was referring to.
“I’m pretty sure I already know all I need to know about your friend,” Roman continued. “So why don’t you tell me something about you?”
I wasn’t convinced that he actually cared to strike up a conversation with me, so much as trying to distract himself from the lovebirds across the table. Since I had that same goal in mind, I was happy to oblige.
