Page 7 of Fluffed and Folded

“So you said,” he remarked. Their food arrived. His burger looked like her mammoth steak had a tiny baby and wrapped it in a cute little bun, her plate so large it took the waiter both hands to heft it over. At some point she must have ordered a bottle of wine, because that appeared, too. After pouring her glass, the sommelier turned expectantly toward Eli.

“No thanks,” Eli said, waving him away. “The sulfites give me a headache.”

Plushy and the sommelier shared a look before the man tucked the bottle in its ice bucket and disappeared, as if Eli were the high-maintenance one in this scenario, and not the woman with the 200 ounce steak and bottle of something expensive from Italy.

“Is money the only factor you consider?” Eli asked, trying to enjoy his burger while her steak dripped and oozed copious amounts of juice.

Plushy sipped her wine as she considered. “It’s definitely the main one, but I’d like a guy who takes care of himself, too. Someone buff.” She eyed Eli, reminding him he was not buff. “What do you do?”

“I manage a chain of assisted living facilities,” he said.

Her perfect lip wrinkled. “Old people? Gross.”

Eli bristled. “I like my job, and I love the elderly.”

“Weird,” Plushy said. “Probably explains why you’re still single.”

“I’m learning a lot about why I’m still single tonight,” Eli said, but the subtle insult went right over her perfectly highlighted head. “So, let’s say for a minute that you find your perfect guy, someone who makes seven figures and is buff. What do you bring to the table?”

Arching an eyebrow, she once again motioned to herself. Eli knew enough men to understand she was probably correct—her honeyed looks would definitely be enough to suit the type of man she would attract.

“What about in thirty years, when your looks fade?” he asked.

“Of course they won’t,” she said, waving his concerns away.

“Wrinkles?”

“Filler.”

“Moles?”

“Surgery.”

“Weight gain?” he tried.

“Not possible,” said the woman with a steak the size of his thigh. Though, now that he took a good look, she’d only eaten one bite of it and appeared to be done.

“But don’t you want a man who loves you for you, who doesn’t care about the exterior stuff?” he tried, feeling a little desperate to find some snippet of humanity in this otherwise plastic person.

Her face fell for a moment, one which gave him hope that he might actually have reached her, but then she smiled and waved him away. “No, ew, gross. Who wants that? It’s so much more work. But this, keeping myself fit and toned and pretty, it’s a done deal.”

“Huh,” Eli said. At least he could appreciate her honesty. On that note… “Can I ask you one more question?”

“Sure, ask away,” she said easily, content for having taken him for as much as she reasonably could for an evening. “It’s your dime.” She tossed him a little wink.

He pointed to himself. “The braces, are they a deal breaker?”

She tipped her head back and forth studying him, and then gave him what he swore might have been a genuine smile. “Nah, they’re adorable. I mean, not for me, because you’re poor and weird, but for some girl? You go, Elrond.”

“It’s actually El… You know what? Elrond is fine.” He tipped his glass to her in a little toast. She poured herself another glass of wine, and he requested a box for her leftover steak, something he was certain he could get three more meals out of this week. All in all, it wasn’t his worst date.

How was it? Dying here!

Josie texted almost as soon as Eli paid his enormous bill and said goodbye to Plushy.

Pretty sure I met one of the future stars of the Real Wives of DC. I would have gotten her autograph, but she probably would have charged me for it,Eli responded.Possibly with some sort of blood oath.

Josie sent a sad emoji in return.

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