Tales From a Broad

by Melange Books, LLC

  “You know what? I don’t think I need this.” I pulled away and looked down at the cane.

  “Are you sure? It may minimize some of the tension.”

  “Positive.” Only a cold shower could possibly minimize the kind of tension I was feeling. It had been a long time since I’d felt this alive, and boy, did it feel good. I took a breath and propped the cane against the wall behind the door.

  “Worst case, you can always lean on me.” Simon grinned and offered me his arm. As I wrapped my hand around his strong forearm, it sure felt like the best-case scenario to me.

  * * * *

  Despite my ankle, we managed to walk around for quite a bit. We had gotten to know each other all afternoon, but physically holding on to him for support, I felt a level of comfort that hadn’t been there before. By the time we stumbled upon a local haunt with a line out the door, I felt like I was with someone I’d known a lot longer than one day.

  “Le Relais de L'Entrecote,” Simon read from the sign. “Oh! The concierge told me about this restaurant. He said it was the best kept secret in the neighborhood.”

  I looked at the line out the door. “I think someone spilled the beans.”

  “Excuse me, sir? How long is the wait?” Simon spoke to a man who stood at the end of the line.

  “Ninety minutes,” he replied with a French accent. “Totally worth it, though. Zee best rib steak ever.” He kissed his fingers and tossed them in the air.

  “Their sauce is a gastronomic delight,” added the woman who accompanied him.

  Simon looked at me with an eyebrow raised. “That sounds hard to beat. What do you think?”

  We peered into the small glass windows and saw people crammed together drinking wine and laughing. It looked like a quintessential French restaurant. Black and white tiles covered the floor, and rattan chairs surrounded wrought iron tables. The waiters with their classic white shirts, black waistcoats, and aprons, raced around, carrying carafes of wine and baskets of bread.

  “It does look rather inviting,” I said wistfully. “And sounds delicious.” I swallowed the saliva that had formed in my mouth. I was starving.

  “But are you up for standing this long? We’ve done so much walking already.” A crease slashed across his brow with the question.

  Oh, had we? I had been floating on air and hadn’t noticed that my feet had actually hit the ground. “I’m fine.” I waved my hand, dismissing his concern. “This reminds me of one of the restaurants in Julie and Julia. Did you see that? I think I left the theater and ate an entire quiche.”

  “I didn’t see it. Meryl Streep?”

  “Yep. It was soooo good. If you hadn’t shown up, I probably would’ve ordered that in my room tonight.”

  “The quiche?”

  “No, but that sounds pretty good right about now. I meant the movie.”

  “I hope you don’t mind that I changed your plan.” I could see Simon’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed.

  “Of watching a movie that I’ve already seen? Not at all,” I smiled.

  ”Well, I know how you women are with chick flicks. Besides, you already told me about your addiction.”

  “Julie and Julia is not a chick flick,” I shook my finger at him. “Not that it matters. I must’ve seen Pretty Woman at least a dozen times.”

  Simon shook his head in disbelief. “A movie about a prostitute? Really? I’m a big fan of Julia Roberts, but I really don’t see the appeal of a hooker landing a rich guy.”

  “That’s not the point. It’s like...” I looked up in the sky for a moment. “A modern day Cinderella,” I said with a finger snap. “Every woman dreams of being rescued by a handsome prince.”

  “So, what about you? Do you dream of being rescued by a knight in shining armor?” The corners of his mouth rose with his grin.

  I blushed. “Yep. Still waiting for my Pretty Woman moment.”

  “You mentioned an ex-fiancée. I take it you’re ... single?” Simon shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “Correct.” The knot in my stomach now synonymous with thoughts of Cooper tightened. “What about you? Are you single?”

  “Very,” Simon said. I exhaled through my nose, not even realizing that I’d been holding my breath. “You see, the problem with women is that you’re all so high maintenance.”

  I wondered whether he really felt that way or if it was just an excuse for commitment issues. “Well, sometimes it’s you guys that make us that way.”

  The look on Simon’s face made me think he hadn’t a clue what I was talking about. “Let’s take my ex. He never would have let me go out looking like this.” I tugged on my tank top. “And God forbid I wore jeans!”

  “What did he want? Formal attire? That’s ridiculous. What’s that expression? Clothes don’t make the woman? It’s the woman in the clothes. You could probably make a sweat suit look fancy.”

  I cocked my head to the side and smiled. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

  Simon bent down and lifted up the ankle band on one of my leggings.

  “What are you doing?” I looked around to see if anyone was watching.

  “Oh, nothing.” Simon caressed my shin. “I just wanted to see if you’re rebelling now that you’re free from his scrutiny. You know, braiding the hair on your legs to make a statement.”

  I laughed and placed my hands on either side of his head, pretending to squeeze it in a vise. “I always shave my legs, thank you very much.”

  I silently thanked God that I had. Two days ago at the hostel they had been anything but smooth.

  Simon’s wavy brown hair was so soft that I had to force myself to pull my hands away. I reached one hand down to help him up off the sidewalk. He took my hand, and even after he stood up, he continued to hold it. I could feel my heart beat so heavily that when the line began to move, I quickly dropped his hand to adjust the bag on my shoulder. Through the window, my gaze fell upon a family who were raising their glasses to make a toast.

  “It must be so weird to grow up legally drinking alcohol.” Nerves turned the words into a chuckle.

  “Well, they don’t know any other way. Do you remember your first legal drink? It’s so monumental. Europeans don’t have that rite of passage.”

  “Ugh. Memories,” I groaned. I wasn’t sure whether I was groaning from the memories or from the realization that my first legal drink was before Simon even hit puberty.

  One hour later, I was the one feeling like a pubescent kid, with a crush, as I listened to Simon speaking to the waiter in a lovely French tongue.

  I sat there completely rapt. I couldn’t help but feel as if he was somewhat of a mystery man. The moment the waiter walked away I leaned across the table.

  “Where did that come from?”

  Simon looked at me from behind the wine list. “Where did what come from?”

  “Um, your beautiful French?” He might be young and a camp counselor, but mastering a foreign language definitely boosted him on the maturity scale.

  “Oh. I studied abroad during my last year at Boston University. It’s been so long that I still need a guidebook and a map of Paris, yet I somehow managed to retain any words that involve wine and food,” he said sheepishly.

  “I’m very impressed, not to mention jealous. I regret that studying abroad never even crossed my mind. What was your major?”

  “Business.” Simon closed his eyes and made a snoring sound. “It’s what my dad wanted me to do.” Clearly his father’s intentions hadn’t worked out so well.

  I nodded and thought about what to say next. “Now you’re happy ... at the camp?” I reached into the breadbasket to select a piece of bread.

  Simon’s face lit up with a smile. “Couldn’t be happier. What about you? Do you love to write?” He leaned his elbows on the table.

  “Well, I was really happy when I wrote for that parenting magazine, until it shut down a few months ago. But I’m excited to pitch some ideas to my friend at the travel magazine.” I tw
isted my hands under the table. “It’s just that lately I’ve been a bit creatively blocked. It’s been a rough few months.”

  “I see,” Simon nodded, gazing at me intently. “Well, don’t give up.” He reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “Something great is going to happen for you, Lucy. You probably won’t even remember the way you’ve been feeling.”

  “Thanks.” I was so touched that I felt a lump rise in my throat and smiled through gritted teeth. I took a swig of my water.

  “Hey, maybe I could be your muse.” Simon narrowed his eyes and gave me a come-hither look.

  A chortle replaced the lump in my throat. “Well, you most definitely a-muse me, that’s for sure.”

  I took a generous dollop of butter and began to spread it on my bread. I could feel Simon’s eyes on me, and I paused with the knife in hand.

  “I know,” I said and nodded. “I’m disgusting. In the past forty-eight hours, I’ve become obsessed with French butter.” I took a bite of bread and my teeth sank into the soft center. The butter tasted so rich and creamy.

  “Well, then we’re both disgusting.” Simon reached his own knife into the bowl of butter. “I’ve had butter on pretty much everything since we got here. And it’s refreshing to be with a woman who will actually eat it.”

  “Oh, not as refreshing as being with a man who actually lets me eat it.”

  Simon opened his mouth to speak and quickly shut it, pressing his lips together. “You know what? The beauty of an ex is that his issues are no longer yours.” He reached across the table and tapped his buttery slice against mine.

  I looked Simon in the eyes and took a revengeful bite. He laughed and playfully tapped my foot under the table as he glanced down at the paper menu.

  “The French sure know how to do it,” I murmured, swallowing the monster bite I had been chewing. “I pick and choose my battles, and I refuse to pass up their butter. I’ll have something that is starred low vat to offset the damage.”

  Simon paused with the bread to his lips. “Did you say low vat?”

  I sat up a little straighter in my seat. “Yes I did. See? You’re not the only one who can find your way around a French restaurant.” I picked up the menu and gave it a quick scan.

  Simon glanced at his menu and began to read aloud. “Items that are starred indicate low vat. Is that what you’re talking about? The lentils?”

  “Oui.” I tossed my hair over my shoulder and took another bite. “They were starred at last night’s restaurant, too.”

  The corners of Simon’s mouth twitched as he placed the menu down. “Um, Lucy, VAT means Value Added Tax. It’s like a sales tax.”

  I felt like the bread had suddenly lodged its way into my esophagus. I took a sip of water and wished it were the wine we had ordered. “Are you sure?”

  Simon held up a hand in oath. “One hundred percent.”

  I sunk back into my chair. “Do you mean to tell me I’ve been eating lentils for nothing? I don’t even like lentils. Fuck, is all I can say.”

  “I think you meant to say ... vuck?”

  I closed my eyes in shame and rubbed my eye sockets.

  Simon gently tapped my foot under the table with his. “You are so cute, Lucy.”

  I peered at Simon through open fingers. “Cute?”

  “Yes. Especially that first time I spotted you in London on your mad quest for a charger.” He sighed and omitted a slight chuckle.

  “Let’s not go there.” I slid my fingers down my face. If Simon’s foreign tongue added a few years to his age, then my lack of common sense knocked a few years off of mine. It looked like our age gap was narrowing.

  The waiter appeared with a carafe of wine and two glasses.

  “Oh, thank God. Saved by the wine,” I said with relief.

  After the waiter poured the wine, I gratefully accepted a glass from him.

  Simon raised his glass. “To the best non-date ever.”

  And that it was. When the check was placed between us I couldn’t believe that three hours had passed. When he reached for it, I wasn’t sure what to do. I knew Simon’s camp counselor salary must be low, so I felt I should offer, but at the same time, I didn’t want to offend him either.

  “Simon?” I watched him unroll a haphazard wad of euros that he had taken from his pocket. “Can we split this?”

  Simon redirected his gaze from the crumpled ball of bills and gave me a firm look. It pretty much demanded I let him treat me like a lady. Which, he continued to do the entire walk back to the hotel. It felt so nice to be taken care of that by the time we got back to the hotel, I really didn’t want the night to end. We stepped into the elevator, and Simon pressed the button for our floor.

  “I had a really good time tonight. Thank you.” I smiled as the doors closed.

  “Thank you. That place was totally worth the wait. The food, the wine, the company...” Simon elbowed me gently.

  “Don’t forget the ab workout.” I placed a hand on my stomach, sucking in my food and wine induced bloat. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. My abs are actually sore.”

  “Better than a movie in bed, right?”

  “Well, that depends with whom.” I winked.

  The wine must have gone to my head. I bit my cheek as the elevator ascended and wondered what I was supposed to do next. Was I supposed to kiss him on the cheek? Give him a hug? Shake his hand?

  The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. We stepped out, staring at each other awkwardly, and Simon shoved his hands into his pockets. I guess shaking hands was no longer an option.

  I felt a yawn coming on and clenched my jaw to suppress it. “I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty beat from all that manual labor,” I said after the urge had passed, smiling brightly to hide my confusion.

  “I won’t keep you.” Simon smiled down at me.

  I couldn’t help but feel disappointed by his words. I’d enjoyed his company so much that I wasn’t in a hurry to part ways, although my inner voice was screaming that I should be the mature older woman and step inside the room with a polite goodnight and thank you. I hadn’t felt this carefree in months and didn’t want to burst my lighthearted feeling and happiness bubble with a random hook up that would lead to nowhere. Not that he was rushing to take advantage of me either. But still.

  He put his hands on my shoulders and gave me a soft kiss on my left cheek, followed by an even softer one on my right. Genius.

  “Two kisses are better than one,” Simon said as if he had read my mind. His hands remained on my shoulders as he locked his eyes with mine.

  All of a sudden, I didn’t want the date to end, nor did I care about protecting my heart. Instead, I wanted him to kiss me—on the lips. “Yes, but three is my lucky number,” I said before I could stop myself.

  Simon dropped his hands to my waist and pulled me close. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sweetest kiss I had ever received. I felt like I was having an out of body experience. My knees went weak, my stomach did flip-flops, and I saw colorful swirls from behind closed eyes.

  Did I wish it were Cooper? No. To my surprise, I was exactly where I wanted to be. I pulled back to look up at Simon. His smile caused my stomach to do another flip. This time, I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned my head on his chest. We fit together so well. Why, why, why did he have to be so goddamn young? I was only going backwards in the looks department. He, on the other hand, would just get hotter and ...

  Ding. The elevator doors opened and interrupted my mental anguish.

  “Aunt Lucy?”

  My eyes flew open in alarm, and I looked up at Simon. “Oh my God,” I whispered.

  I fixed my gaze on Simon as he looked over my head. He turned his attention back to me and gave me a subtle nod.

  No, I mouthed. I took a deep breath and turned around. Simon’s hands remained on my waist, and I pushed them away.

  I stood face to face with Tess and Mark.

  “Hi. Um, what are you doing?” I
said in what I hoped was a casual tone. “Did you guys have a fun date?” I subtly used my knuckle to wipe my bottom lip.

  “Well...” I could tell Tess was trying not to laugh. “It wasn’t exactly a date, more like a bail out.”

  Wait a second. Her date wasn’t with Mark. I shook my head in confusion. “I’m sorry ... how did...” I pointed at Mark. “What happened to the Frenchie on the Vespa?” I blurted.

  “Long story,” Tess said with a look.

  I glanced at Mark, and he shifted uncomfortably. We all looked as if we were up to no good.

  “And what about you guys?” Tess asked.

  “We just grabbed a bite. It was no big deal.” I looked at Simon, and he quickly looked away.

  “In fact, I’m so tired.” I felt another yawn coming and welcomed it with an open palm. “I’m going to...” I pointed my finger to our room.

  “Right,” Simon said.

  “Um, thanks again for dinner.” I bit my lip.

  I reached up and gave him a kiss on his left cheek. One good old American-style cheek kiss. My lips brushed against the stubble on his cheek. It hadn’t been there at the vineyard that morning.

  “It was just a bite. No big deal,” he said with a wink.

  “Bye, Mark. Thank you so much.” Tess smiled brightly.

  “Maybe we’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow,” Mark replied.

  I was surprised to see him give Tess a quick peck on the lips. I unlocked the door and went into the room. When I heard the door click shut I turned around to face Tess.

  “Lucy, you got some ‘splainin’ to do!” Tess cried. “This time you’re going first.”

  “It was so not what it looked like,” I said with a hand on my chest. I walked to the bed, kicked my shoes off, and massaged my sore ankle.

  “Oh, I hope it was exactly what it looked like.” Tess kicked off her own shoes and plopped onto her bed.

  “You do?” I said, amazed.

  “He’s so cute, Aunt Lu. And nice.” Tess eyed the items Simon had brought over. “What’s all this?”

  “Oh, just a few things Simon brought over.”

  Tess looked up and gave me a knowing look. “See, what I mean? So nice.”

  “I know. He’s wonderful. You don’t have to convince me of that, but I’m practically old enough to be his mother!”