Page 33 of Pregnant By the Playboy
Yep. I’ll bring you the food as soon as I can.
I unfold myself from my chair. The woman in the red dress slides her gaze over my body, but I just wave at Brian, who looks up briefly, and head out.
Cheese & Me is a popular Japanese cheesecake place downtown, fortunately quite close to where I am. I jump into the car that’s waiting for me and tell the driver where to go.
When I arrive five minutes later, it’s packed with people enjoying cheesecake and cheese tarts. The line-up is long, and I try not to tap my foot as I wait.
Finally, it’s my turn.
“One matcha double fromage cheesecake,” I say.
“I’m sorry,” the woman says. “We just sold our last one.”
Another server deposits what I’m pretty sure is a matcha double fromage cheesecake into a box. He hands it to the man beside me. Goddammit.
“But we do have our regular matcha cheesecake,” the woman suggests. “Really, it’s quite good.”
I turn to the man. “I’ll pay you double for that cheesecake.”
He shakes his head. “This is for my mother. It’s her birthday tomorrow.”
“Triple,” I say, but it’s half-hearted. I’d feel like a monster, taking the cake he picked out for his mom’s birthday. Surely there’s some amount of money that would make him cave, but I’m not going to try to find it.
“Tempting, but no. Look, there’s a place that’s almost as good, and it also does double fromage cheesecakes. It’s on Dundas.”
But Marissa said the matcha double fromage cheesecake from Cheese & Me, and I’m determined to get exactly what she wants.
I turn back to the server. “Okay, I’ll get a regular matcha cheesecake.” Just in case my plan doesn’t work out.
After she boxes up the cheesecake for me, I walk around the crowded seating area, trying to see if anyone has a matcha double fromage cheesecake. There’s a group of teenage girls in the corner with one, but they’ve already finished most of it.
The young couple at the back, however, is more promising. They each have a slice of cheesecake on their plates, but more than half the cheesecake is left, and it looks like they haven’t touched it with their forks.
I approach their table. “I’ll give you twenty bucks for the rest of your cheesecake.”
The girl looks at me suspiciously. “Why don’t you buy your own?”
“They ran out.”
“What’s the catch?” the guy asks. “Surely they have lots of other things you could buy. Why don’t you get a cheese tart?”
“I don’t want a cheese tart. I want a matcha double fromage cheesecake, and you two have about sixty percent of one, which is good enough. I can give you half of my regular matcha cheesecake, too.”
“As well as thirty bucks?” the girl asks.
“He said twenty,” the guy hisses across the table. “The cake cost us twenty-two bucks. Twenty for what’s left is a good deal.”
“He seems pretty desperate. Might as well try to get more money out of him.”
The guy looks at the girl like she just said the smartest thing he’s ever heard. They get lost in each other’s eyes for a moment.
“So, do we have a deal?” I say impatiently.
“Why do you want the cake so badly?” the girl asks. I figure they’re about nineteen—students at one of the nearby universities, perhaps.
“My wife is pregnant and she’s craving it.”
It sounds better to say “my wife” instead of “the woman I knocked up.”
