We sat at a quaint table in the courtyard, and I tried to remain calm while I scanned the wine list, but it read like a French phonebook, and I had no idea what I was looking at.
“Cabernet merlot is great with grilled beef,” Ron offered. “On the other hand, cabernet sauvignon is fantastic with pasta, or Chianti is perfect with rich, tomato-based meals.”
“Quite the sommelier, aren’t you, Nurse Ron?” I asked teasingly.
“Not really. I’m more of a connoisseur. See, a sommelier is someone who selects and serves wine, like the people who work here. I guess you could also call me an oenophile, as that’s a wine lover, but that would make me a connoisseur as well. You can be a connoisseur without being a sommelier, but you can’t really be a connoisseur without being an oenophile,” he recited like a pro.
“Uh, okay, Mr. Webster. Tell me though… What goes good with a big, fat, juicy steak?”
“Shiraz.”
“And with dessert?”
“Merlot, with chocolate and cheese.”
I could tell by the look on his face that we really connected, and it seemed like the perfect night was ahead of us. In spite of his confusing diatribe on the matter, Ron dazzled me with his impressive knowledge of French wines, so I allowed him to order for us, and he selected what he assured me was the perfect bottle of red. I took a sip and tried not to make a face like I’d just swallowed an entire sour grapefruit. Meanwhile, he told me about his job, and I told him about mine. Ron was so sweet to talk to, and I hoped he felt the same spark I was feeling.
Unfortunately, the spark was quick to fizzle when he got carried away by something even more dull and nerdy than wine terminology: his World of Warcraft achievements. He seemed über excited to tell me about every level he’d surpassed in that imaginary world, and even when I tried to change the subject, he still looped it back around somehow to orcs, mages, and elves. It wasn’t long before I wanted to hit him in the head with a battleaxe. What had started out like a storybook romance had gone horribly wrong. The handsome man with a great job and a sexy smile was nothing more than a gamer and some sort of –phile that I still could not pronounce.
I attempted to change the subject again, animating my conversation with my hands a bit, in an attempt to draw his attention back to reality. As I did, I accidently knocked over his glass of wine.
“What the hell!?” he said in a tone far more angry than I would have expected over an accidental spill.
“Oh! I’m so, so sorry,” I said, mortified and trying to use one of the satin napkins to sop it up. “I’m such a klutz sometimes.” Blushing, I pushed a puddle of crimson liquid off the edge of the table and into my glass, then looked at him sheepishly and shrugged. “Can’t cry over spilt wine, huh?”
“Maybe
you
can’t!” he spat, looking at me like I was the spawn of Satan and then getting up to bolt off to the men’s room.
Fifteen long minutes went by, and he still wasn’t back, so I went to look for him. I asked the bartender at his station near the bathrooms, and he informed me that my date had deserted me.
Not sure what to do, I sat back down to gather my thoughts. A few minutes later, the
maîtr
e
d
' brought the bill to me. Not only had Ron abandoned me, but he’d committed a dine-and-dash, leaving me to pick up the tab. Even worse, the bottle of sour wine was $1,000. I couldn’t believe my eyes, especially since the so-called fine wine tasted like nothing but liquefied Sour Patch Kids. I had no idea how I was going to pay for the meal and our drinks, and I couldn’t possibly make any kind of discreet exit in those ridiculous heels Kate had shackled onto my feet, but then I remembered something: Ron’s friend! He said he owns the place, right? Brad something…
I immediately got the attention of the snooty-looking
maîtr
e
d
' and asked for Brad, only to be looked at like I was insane.
“Brad?” he said, then laughed, as if the name was somehow inferior for the staff of their uppity restaurant. “There is no
Brad
here. Now, miss, shall I put this on your Visa or MasterCard?”
I held my finger up at the man and asked him to wait one moment. Desperate, I tried to call Ron. Of course he didn’t pick up, so I left a message on his voicemail to remind him that he’d left me with a restaurant check that cost more than my rent.
“Do you have a credit card, miss?” the waiter asked, looking at me just as impatiently as the
maîtr
e
d
' was.
“They’re, uh…all maxed out,” I said under my breath. “If you can just give me a few minutes…”
“Yes, miss. Take all the time you need, but please do not leave until the bill is settled.”
Even after they walked away to tend to other diners, I noticed that the rest of the staff were staring at me. Even the busboy was giving me an evil eye as he rearranged the salt shakers and wiped down the tables. I tried calling a few of my friends for help, but none of them answered, and I knew none of them would have that kind of money even if I did get in touch with them. I blew out a breath, wondering what I was going to do, and I vowed then and there that I would never, ever, ever go on another date again, especially with a gaming wino.
Chapter 7
A short while later, the
maîtr
e
d
' walked back over to me. I couldn’t help smiling at him, because as snobbish as he was, his short, spiky hair didn’t seem to go with his arrogance. “Gotta love first dates, huh?” I joked. I then quickly looked at the glass of wine I was holding and set it down, not wanting to drink something I could not possibly pay for. “Sorry,” I said. “I forgot it’s not on the house.”
He loomed over me like some sort of awful prison guard in one of those action movies. “Drink all you want,” he said. “Once it’s opened, you are already charged.”
I laughed. “Bottom’s up then,” I said, then downed the glass of wine. It was horrible and bitter, but I hoped it would help me drown my sorrows and deal with the nightmare I’d been thrown into.
As I drank the nasty, overpriced concoction, a swirl of thoughts swished around in my tipsy head:
Why does the room seem so hot? Surely they can afford a freaking air conditioner. Is this place getting smaller, closing in on me? Why won’t the employees stop staring at me? Gosh, this is so embarrassing.
I explained the situation to them over and over again, but they only responded with head shakes, folded arms, and evil scowls. I could have sworn the
maîtr
e
d
' was going to sprout wings, turn into some kind of mythical gargoyle like the ones on Ron’s ridiculous game, then peck me to death right there at the table. I couldn’t believe the predicament I was in and the nasty looks I was getting, and I had never been so ashamed and angry in my life.
My palms began to sweat as I considered my options. The total bill was almost $1,500, more than a month’s rent. I never stiffed people. I was the most responsible person in the world and really wanted to make things right. I debated calling my dad, since he had set me up with the idiot in the first place, but I couldn’t blame my father for wanting me to have a little fun, and he obviously had no idea how much of a loser Ron really was.
As I pondered what to do, Luke flashed in my head. I knew he could easily get me out of it, because $1,500 was merely pocket change to him. A moment later, out of sheer desperation, I found myself dialing his number.
“Hey!” he said cheerfully. “I really didn’t expect—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’ve got…a bit of a problem,” I said.
“Not anymore, you don’t,” he said assuredly. “How can I take care of it?”
My voice wavered. “Well, I need to borrow a few bucks.”
“How much is a few?”
“Um…1,500, to be exact.”
“Done.”
“Aren’t you even gonna ask what it’s for?”
“I’m not your father,” he said.
I laughed. “You’re right about him. He does ask a million questions.”
“He’s an interrogator. He should have worked for the FBI or something. As for this money, I can drop it off tomorrow.”
“Um, I sorta need it right now. See, I was kind of on a date, and this guy ditched me after I spilled a glass of wine on his pants. I had no idea it was so expensive, especially since it tastes so gross. Anyway, the guy told me he knew the owner, but that was obviously a lie, and when he took off, he left me stuck with the bill. I hate to bother you, especially for so much money, but I don’t know what else to do, who else to ask. I swear I will pay you back, every penny.”
“Pay me back? For getting screwed on a bill? Nonsense! Where are you?”
“He brought me to American Nouveau, where Chef Wes—”
“Yeah, I know the place. Don’t worry. I’ll be right there.”
After he hung up, I smiled smugly at the snooty waiter and the rest of them. “It will be taken care of shortly, folks,” I said, then lifted my glass. “Cheers!”
When Luke sauntered into the restaurant, my eyes lit up as his gaze fell on me. He spoke with the waiter, then approached my table like my knight in shining armor. “Let’s go,” he said. “Everything is taken care of.”
“I can’t thank you enough. It was so freaking humiliating, what he did to me. I’ll pay you back somehow for this. I just—”
“Julia, this wasn’t your fault, and you don’t need to worry about paying me back. My uncle always tells me never to lend money but only to give it. If I needed it back so urgently, I wouldn’t have paid the bill. It’s my pleasure to help.”
Once we reached the waiting area, I grabbed my phone from my purse. “I can catch a cab from here.”
“I can take you home,” he insisted.
“You’ve done more than enough.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Please don’t be,” I said.
“How can I not, JJ? You’re marrying a man who likes collecting hickeys and who knows what else from other dudes, and now you’re dating some other loser behind his back. Is this some kind of arrangement you two have, something your counselor advised? It doesn’t make sense to me, but I’m no professional. I don’t mean to step on anyone’s toes, but—”
“It’s nothing like that, Luke.”
“You’re clearly not happy with this Zack, and if you’re not happy, you should leave him. You can’t settle for an unhappy relationship, and you shouldn’t complicate things with marriage if you aren’t ready.”
I sighed. “We’ll work it out, okay? This is just a rough patch. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“It’s only going to get worse. I know it’s not my place to say so, but I just don’t think he’s the guy for you. He doesn’t have that spark when he’s around you, and I think we both know why. He’s into men. He’s going to disappoint you, JJ.”
“And why do you care?”
“I just do.”
I hurried outside, as fast as Kate’s black stilettos would carry me, but Luke was right on my heels.
“You know,” he said, gently stopping me by tugging on my elbow, “when I had my biggest sale, the biggest success of my life, I went home to an empty apartment and popped open a bottle of champagne to drink all by myself.”
“Did you want to be by yourself?”
“No, all I really wanted to was to call you and tell you about it. Not only were you my lover, but you were also my best friend, the one I shared everything with. It just about killed me not to have you to talk to. My heart ached that night because I couldn’t share my good news with you. I had never felt so utterly alone.
“I didn’t realize you ever thought about me,” I said.
“Ever? Try always. I know it sounds corny, like some stupid old country song or something, but you were always on my mind, JJ…and you still are.”
I stared into his eyes and touched his face, but I wasn’t sure what to say.
Even if words had come to mind, they never would have escaped my mouth, because in an instant, as fast as a cobra strike, his lips crushed against mine. He laced his fingers between mine and pinned my hands to each side of my body. He forced his tongue between my shocked lips and swirled it around inside my mouth. For a moment, I lost myself in the taste of Luke, returning the kiss with just as much force as he was offering. Moaning against his mouth, I gripped his fingers tighter, till my nails were scratching lightly into his flesh. It seemed like an eternity before I came to my senses, before I realized the path I was quickly heading down, an old path I’d left behind long ago and one I was sure I shouldn’t walk again.
“Luke, I… We can’t,” I said, shaking my head and pulling my lips away from him, tugging my fingers free from his grasp and pushing him away.
“Julia, we
can
,” he argued. “It’s been too long since I’ve tasted your lips.”
“Thank you for everything you’ve done, for the money and…” I stuttered. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go.”
“Julia, wait. I just—”
“Please don’t follow me. If you respect me, you’ll leave me alone.”
Then, without another word or so much as a glance into those paralyzing eyes of his, I took off running down the street, my knees still shaking from our brief moment of nostalgic passion.