Page 23 of The Last Dance

‘I know I am,’ I say, not even having looked at the menu.

I already know exactly what I want. That’s actually the case for most restaurants I go to. Even if I’ve never been. I read menus and dream of what the food is like. I’d be embarrassed to even say how many menus I’ve got memorized as if they’re multiplication tables. As I mentioned before, I might have a slight obsession with food.

‘This place is so good,’ I say, almost unable to contain my excitement.

I’d be OK eating here every single day if it weren’t for the fact that I’ve said that about a hundred restaurants in the area over the years and I’m not sure I could fit them all in every day and not need to be moved from my living room eventually via crane.

‘It is! We ate here a few nights ago. Loved it.’

I turn my attention back to my favorite man in the room, our waiter.

‘Can I get the Wood Fire Grilled Skewer, with chicken. And a Two Brothers Brew?’ Yes, I’m having a drink in the middle of the work day. I walked to work, it’s allowed.

‘And for you?’ he asks Karmen, who’s now grinning at me with an open mouth.

‘You orderedexactlywhat my boyfriend wants. Even the same beer.’

‘Huh…’ I’d think it was unusual, but this is a popular place and Ben’s brewery is one of the best brews in town. I’m not surprised someone else loves it.

Thankfully I was able to hold back and order only one entrée. I mean, normally I’d order two different ones, have them dish half of each on a plate and box up the rest securing my dinner for the next day. But since I’ve only just met Karmen I’d rather not look like I’m dying to eat everything on the menu in one sitting.

There is an awkward silence after the waiter walks away. I might have a degree in communications and journalism, but speaking has never been my specialty. I’d rather write something. I never seem to know what to talk about and chit-chatting about the weather seems too obvious a filler.

‘You know…’ Karmen saves me from filling the silence with unnecessary babble ‘… I have loads of contacts, both local and non. Once you are in the business for a while, no matter where you’re based, you get to know people. Celebrities are all over the place all the time. I’d be happy to help you out whenever you need it.’ She takes a sip of her white wine that’s been set in front of her.

‘Really? That would be great because to tell you the truth I’m in a little over my head. I don’t normally write, or even read, the celebrity spot. I do food. Like, literally, I eat the food and then I write about it.’

And I love every single second of it.

‘You like to cook?’

‘God, no. I couldn’t cook to save my life but eating, I’m a pro at.’

Unfortunately, this is true. Some of the local places I love the most know me by name, over the phone. Including this one. Thankfully our waiter, James, played it cool when I needed it most. The last thing I need is him calling me by name when meeting a complete stranger. What’s that even say about a girl? Nothing good, I’m sure.

Karmen laughs as her phone that is sitting on the table in front of her dings. She glances down at the notification box that’s popped up on the lit screen.

‘Oh, that’s Henry. He’s just around the corner.’

Henry? If I thought it was even remotely possible that the Henry she’s speaking of is the same Henry that comes to mind, I’d probably freak out. But I’ve discovered over the past couple years that Henry is a popular name and I’ve gotten a lot better at not having an internal panic attack when I hear it.

Our waiter approaches the table with our plates, the smell mesmerizing me to the point of no return. I’m definitely headed towards a food hangover. The only kind of hangover I welcome with open arms.

I glance down at the two identical plates then up at Karmen. Now I’m nervous. Could her Henry be the same one that always ordered what I told him to? And when he didn’t, he always ended up ordering the exact same thing I did somehow? I look towards the door but don’t see anyone headed in. I glance back to my plate, nearly drooling over it. No. There is no way he’s back in town. He’ll never come back. He made that pretty clear.

I grab my fork, inspecting my plate for my first bite. It all looks so delicious it’s hard to decide where to start. It’s probably not a good thing when food has this much of a hold on you as it seems to on me. I’ve disappeared from outings with family and friends when a random smell catches me. Dodging into restaurants to see exactly what is cooking, quickly buttering up the chef until I’ve convinced them to let me sample everything on the menu for an impromptu story. I’ve never regretted a single moment of it either.

‘Yum,’ I say, finally moving past my momentary panic attack and taking a bite, briefly allowing myself to silently food orgasm before I even start to chew. Yeah, OK. I might have a bigger problem than I’ve let on.

‘There he is.’ Karmen smiles towards the front entry.

The citrusy yet clean smell is what stops my heart first. I know that scent. I’ve been paralyzed by it before. I let out a tiny gasp as I close my eyes almost wishing it will somehow make me invisible.

‘Ladies.’ His smooth masculine voice pierces through every part of me as if I didn’t already know it was him, including the part that allows you to swallow like you’ve eaten before.

The chicken lodges in my throat, sending me into a sudden panic of flailing arms, pointing towards the obstruction. I stand, glancing around the room in any direction except the one he’s in hoping someone,anyonebut him, will notice what is happening and race to my rescue before the one thing that I know loves me back, food, also kills me. In front of the one guy who made me think he loved me, but turned out, he didn’t.

‘Oh, my God!’ Karmen jumps from her chair. ‘She’s choking!’

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