by Theda Vallee
“Thanks. You look nice too. I like your shirt and jean thing you have going on there.” I groaned internally at my stupidity. Why couldn’t I say something normal?
“Thank you, I think. It was hard to decide what shirt and jean thing combo I should go with.” He looked down at his outfit with a barely concealed smirk.
“Look, I said I’d go to dinner with you. I never said I’d be a good conversationalist.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about. I think your conversation is riveting. I also believe the universal term for what I’m wearing is a shirt and jean thing combo.” He smiled broadly trying to assure me he thought my lack of social graces was charming. “So, have you eaten here before? This is my first time trying it.”
“No, this is my first time. I don’t eat Thai food often, or eat out too often at all, so this will be a night of trying a lot of new things.” I gazed down at the menu wondering what the hell I was going to order. Everything sounded exotic. Curse my Italian grandmother! She firmly believed anything worth eating had already been created by the Italians. I ate pasta for ninety percent of my meals.
“Would you care to start with some wine?” The waiter had appeared at the table while I’d been staring woefully at the menu. He sneered down at me over his glasses.
“Yes. Please.”
“Any preference?” the waiter stared at me expectantly.
“Red.” The waiter arched his unkempt eyebrow clearly not amused. I wasn't trying to be a pain. When it came to wine, I’d drink whatever you sat in front of me.
“Would the house merlot suffice?”
I nodded. Hopefully my eyes conveyed my desperate situation to the waiter. I’m not trying to be difficult, this is my first date in an eon. I don’t have the capacity to read this wine list and choose something. Just give me a damn drink, will you? He seemed to get the message. His eyes softened at little at my desperate silent plea.
“So, are you passionate about baking or do you just do it because it’s the family business?”
Great we’re jumping to the tell “me about yourself” questions already. Couldn't he at least wait until our drinks got here? This was going to be quick and embarrassing. I’m Etta. I live with my grandma and bake bread. The end.
“I don’t dislike it. I’m good at it. It pays the bills. It’s not my passion but I don’t hate it,” I said without much enthusiasm.
“So, what would your passion be? Is there something you’d rather be doing?”
“I wanted to be Indiana Jones when I was younger, until I found out that being an archaeologist didn't actually entail globetrotting adventures while fighting Nazis. I didn't have a backup plan, so here I am.” That was only partially sarcastic. I’d wanted to be Indiana Jones when I was ten, until I found out the job was kneeling in dirt for hours dusting old things with a toothbrush. That was way less appealing as an occupation.
“I can see how that would be a disappointment.” He chuckled shaking his head at my semiserious career path. “Do you have plans for the future? Anything you want to do outside of running the bakery? Since punching Nazi’s was on your to-do list, have you thought about something a little more action oriented?”
“Why? Is being a successful business owner not enough? I think I’ve got enough on my plate for now. Eventually I’d like to get out of Palermo Bay. See a few things in the world. I don’t know. Most days I don’t think beyond tomorrow.” Ughh. Way to make yourself sound pathetic Etta. No hopes. No dreams. No plans. Everything I was or would be depended on getting my daughter back someday. Until then I didn't have the capacity to dream bigger. Dreams were for other people.
“What about you? What are you doing here? I’m assuming you’re not American. Your accent is different. You sound English, but with, like, Irish thrown in there, but then it’s not really either of those.”
“I grew up in Wales. The accent you’re hearing is Welsh. I’m here because I wanted to have dinner with a beautiful woman.”
“Wales? So basically English?” I said looking to see if the waiter was on his way back yet.
“I’d not go saying that in Wales if I were you. That’d probably start a few arguments and possibly even fist fights. We’re adjacent to Britain, and they do have a presence there,” Luc replied seriously.
“Sorry. I’ll make sure I remember that for future reference. Why are you here in Palermo Bay, and not at home in Wales?”
“I was working and living in London. I came here on a business trip last year and thought the city was charming. A few months ago, I decided I’d try it out and see if I liked living here.”
“So just like that? Like someone would change their underwear, you're changing your continent?” I shook my head at how absurd that sounded.
“Just like that.”
Great. The first date I’m asked on in forever is with a globetrotting Welsh playboy.
“Did you just call me a globetrotting Welsh playboy?” he asked arching his eyebrow in surprise.
My eyes bulged out a little as I realized my internal monologue had gone external. What the hell was wrong with me!? Who does that? Obviously me, but come on Etta!
“Well, in my head I did but I had no idea I said it out loud. I don’t get out much. I spend most of my day with dough. If I’m being honest, there are a lot of things about me that should scare you. I live with my family. I’m boring. Unadventurous. If you’d like to take me home now we can call it a wash and be done. No harm, no foul.” I fussed with my silverware anxiously, not wanting to see his face. I was a complete idiot.
His face was blank for a moment as he registered what I’d said. Laughter rolled from him as it sunk in. “There’s no way you're getting out of this date. Every time I talk to you it's an adventure. I do believe this is the first time in my life I’ve been called that. Maybe I should be scared but, I’m quite fascinated. You say you’re unadventurous, but I see a streak in you. Something that requires that right catalyst. Maybe a globetrotting Welsh playboy could be just what the doctor ordered.”
“Ok, it’s your funeral.” I wanted to run to the bathroom and climb out the window. My pants were too tight to even consider that. Maybe we could talk about Hoarders until the night ended. At least that was something I could talk about without saying anything stupid.
“Tell me why you don’t go out much. You seem like the kind of girl that should have a date every night of the week.” He looked at me earnestly.
I wished I could tell him the truth. The whole ugly story of love lost. Witch done wrong. Childless mother. Not really a first date kind of story.
“How do I seem like that kind of girl? Is there a vibe I’m giving off? I always assumed I was projecting stay away.” I played with the napkin in my lap avoiding eye contact. His inquisitive stare felt like it burrowed right through me.
“You're beautiful, funny, and very opinionated. Everything a man could want.” His lip quirked up at the corner as if he was challenging me to argue with his assessment.
“Flattery won’t get your questions answered. Why don’t you tell me what you do for work? What kind of job allows you to just decide you want to live here on whim?” Hopefully I could get him to talk about himself for a bit. I’d done as much avoidance as I could muster for the moment.
“I work in the family business like you. Corporate security for bigwigs, intellectual property, things like that. I run a team that specializes in research. It’s our business to know everything about the places our clients are going, who will be there and so on. I’m good at what I do, so my dad pays me well. He lets me run my own division. If it continues to be profitable I get left alone. I’ve been wanting to expand into the states. A west coast division of our company seemed like a feasible business venture. He agreed, so here I am.”
“So, you’re a spy? Because that’s what it sounds like?” I leaned back in surprise. OMG please don’t tell me I was on a date with some crazy international super spy. That would be my luck. If he was anything like James Bo
nd, there was no way I was sleeping with him. Every chick Bond slept with ended up dead.
“Nothing that exciting. It’s bland and boring. Nothing anyone would want to hear about anyway. A lot of research, a lot of paper pushing, and no action.” He said shaking his head at my wild imagination.
Before I could grill him any further the waiter showed up with our wine. “Are you ready to order?”
“I am, if you are,” He said picking up his menu.
I nodded even though I had no idea what I was going to order. I didn't want to be the person that sent the waiter away because I hadn't bothered to look at the menu. I ran my eyes over the list of food until I saw words I recognized. Something about green chicken. I liked green sauce at the taco shop. This had to be somewhat similar, right? I pointed to it on the menu, not trusting myself to pronounce the words. Clearly the waiter was not going to help me out. He clucked unhappily after writing my order down. Luc placed his order without pointing. Show off.
“What about your family? You seem very close. I suppose you’d have to be to live at home still.”
I’d heard the extra emphasis he had placed on the word “very”. I wonder what clued him in. I picked up my glass of wine and took a giant swig. I was going to need more than a glass to explain my family to a practical stranger. “We’re very close. My parents died when I was young. My grandmother and aunt raised my sister and I, so it made us a little tighter knit than other families. They can be smothering at times but they’re also pretty amazing.” I smiled to myself thinking about the scene as I was leaving tonight.
“I’m sorry about your parents. That must have been tough,” he said reaching across the table to squeeze my hand.
“It’s OK. Thank you though. What about your family?” I pulled my hand back out of his reach. I was not ready to get touchy feely with him just yet, even if it was just a normal human interaction.
“My folks divorced when I was young. I spent more time with my nanny then I ever did with either of them. They had demanding careers which took most of their time. They were perfectly good parents when they could be. It sounds really lovely what you have with your family.”
“Well, did you at least like your nanny?”
He let out another one of those warm melodious laughs that I was starting to really like. If you were someone listening in on the conversation you’d think I was a comedic genius. “Yes. I liked her quite a lot. She raised me with her own kids. I’m considerably better behaved than most of my peers. I think it's her doing.”
Our dinner arrived just in time to save me from having to figure out what to say to that little nugget. I wasn't used to people being so open about themselves. Maybe that’s how everyone was in Wales? Or maybe he was just a nice guy and I was being a jerk. Rather than reflect on my own flaws, I focused on the plate in front of me. It was chicken swimming in a pool of putrid green. It looked like a swamp had crawled onto my plate. Glancing over at Luc’s meal, I saw that he had noodles, shrimp, and vegetables. Everything looked fresh and far more appetizing.
“What’d you get?” I asked nonchalantly.
“Pad Thai. Do you want to try some? It’s one of my favorites,” he asked shoveling a bit into his mouth.
“No, I’m cool with my green stuff here.” I picked my fork up determined to eat my science experiment turned main course.
The corner of his mouth tugged upwards as he watched me eyeing my food. Damn him for being so adorable. I’d wanted him to be an asshole. It’d be easy to say no to another date if he had an ego the size of Detroit or was a womanizing jerk. I took a bite of my meal expecting the worst. Instead I was pleasantly surprised by the mixture of flavors. Spicy, but with sweet undertones.
“Do you know what this is I ordered? It’s actually good.” I said savoring the flavors.
“You just picked something at random, didn’t you?” His smirk released to its full potential. “It’s green curry. If we ever go to London together I’ll take you to my favorite curry restaurant. Nothing compares.”
If we ever go to London together? He’d said it so nonchalant, like people just hopped on planes to other countries all the time. Obviously, he did things like that, but real people didn’t. Just for a moment though, I let myself try on the idea of traveling on a whim. Deep down the Etta I’d buried six years ago perked her head up at the idea. Maybe someday.
As we ate our food and drank wine, I found myself letting my guard down. He was funny, charming, smart, and incredibly endearing. His nanny had raised him right. If the date kept going this well, I might be persuaded to go out with him again.
The bowling alley was only a few blocks from the restaurant, so we decided to walk after dinner. I was risking my neck in my shoes, but the night was too beautiful to do anything else. Strolling along next to each other, bantering back and forth, I felt normal for the first time in years. The ocean breeze gently played through the tendrils framing my face. Moonlight shone down brightly, drenching us in its soft light. The smell of jasmine was thick in the air from the creeping plants that lined the walls. We were just a girl and guy on a date. So perfectly normal.
The bowling alley came into view, it’s bright neon sign obliterating the intimacy of the moonlight. There was a part of me that wanted to keep walking so that this night would stay perfect. That part was not my feet.
Inside the bowling alley it was raucous. The smell of beer tainted with old shoe replaced the lovely jasmine we’d been enjoying. At the counter we paid for our games. I took the ugly shoes they handed me. The thought of all the feet that had nestled in the confines of the hideous leather was enough to make me queasy. The can of spray they casually used on the returned shoes was not enough to ensure me that they were contamination free. I thankfully had a thin layer of cotton to serve as protection.
“You want a beer?” Luc offered when we got to our lane.
“Yes, please. How about a Stella?” Luc nodded and headed off towards the bar. I watched him walk away, finally able to admire his ass without the worry of being caught. That man filled out a pair of jeans so damn well.
I settled into the plastic bucket seats adjacent to our lane to don my bowling shoes. Walking the few blocks had been a mistake. My toes were crushed together at the end of my heels screaming in protest. It was not going to be pleasant putting them back on after bowling. Maybe I could walk to the car in my socks? Would that be tacky on a first date? As I struggled with life’s hard questions I heard a voice that made the blood in my veins turn to ice.
My head snapped up searching the bowling alley for the owner. Three lanes down, wearing a similarly horrific shirt to the one he’d worn on the night we met, was Bob the Cancer. His face was bruised a deep shade of purple. Bandages snaked around his head, covering most of his hair. His right arm was cradled to his body in a sling. He held a silver can of beer in his good hand. Surrounding him was a gaggle of sleazy looking men. He looked like he was holding court at a used car salesmen convention. I needed to get the hell out of here before he noticed me. Three lanes was not enough distance. Of all the damn people to see tonight.
“Here’s your beer. Ready for me to beat you?”
I jumped twenty feet in the air emitting an ear-piercing screech. My concentration had been completely focused on Bob and his sleaze brigade. I hadn’t noticed Luc’s return. He dropped the beer he’d been holding out to me. It shattered at my feet seeping golden liquid all around me. I tried to stabilize my feet on the now treacherous ground. Glass shards lay like land mines all around. I attempted to move out of danger but the cotton I’d counted on to protect me from foot fungus, became my worst enemy. I tried to move out of the path of the liquid, but the world titled. I looked up at Luc in utter terror. My brain registered what was going to happen before my body knew. I was falling.
My right leg slid out in front of me. To compensate for the loss of my right leg, I tried to dig my left foot in. Finding no purchase, it slid backward in the liquid. For the first time in my life I’d done th
e splits. Just for the record, if you aren’t used to doing the splits, it hurts. My legs throbbed from the forced exercise. I was going to really feel it tomorrow.
Craning my neck, I tried to see around Luc hoping that Bob hadn't noticed all the commotion. No such luck. Everyone in the place was staring in our direction. Including the Wizard of Sleaze.
“Are you alright?” Luc crouched down in front on of me, concern written on his face.
“I’m pretty certain nothing is permanently damaged, but can you help me up? I don’t think I can manage it without falling again.” He grasped me by my arms, without any effort, he lifted me over the glass setting me safely on the undisturbed portion of the floor.
We needed to get the hell out of Dodge. It would only be a matter of moments before Bob recognized me. He wouldn't dare try anything if it were just me and him again, but he wouldn’t hesitate here, surrounded by people where he knew I couldn't use my magic. His breed of men were always cowards at heart.
Without warning, I was gripped tightly from behind. Luc’s arms encircled my waist perfectly. My body fit snugly against his long lean frame. His smell filled my nostrils intoxicating me with its heady aroma, a soft earthy smell like the forest after rain. Heat generated from his body filling me with a tingling energy. My voice couldn’t be found to make a formal protest. Why he was holding me was a mystery, one I didn't care to solve at the moment.
His lips brushed against my ear sending vibrations like notes plucked on a cello down my spine. “While I wholly appreciate the view I was just privy to, I doubt you’ll want anyone else to get a glimpse.”
I stood there for a moment drunk on his proximity. Unable to register what he’d said. I felt the rough grain of his jeans scrape across my butt as I snuggled in closer. The sensation shocked my mind back into reality.
My ass was hanging out of my pants! I must have split them when I’d performed my gymnastics routine. I knew the damn things were too tight! I felt a flush of embarrassment replace all the sexy wantonness I’d just been infused with. Might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water on me. I was so glad I’d won the underwear battle with Gia earlier.
