RSGNM Chapter 13.8
I had known it would happen at some point. I just wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. Lois gave me the news before work one morning only a few months after their wedding--she and Lincoln were expecting.
I was happy for them, but also sad. It meant the ending of an era for us. Lincoln and Lo would be moving out of the apartment and into a proper family home. I was making pretty good money at the restaurant, by now, but I still couldn’t afford the apartment’s rent all on my own, so I’d have to look for another place.
I called around town and checked online and in the newspapers, but apparently all the studio apartments in town were taken. It looked like I’d have to find another roommate if I wanted to keep my place. Lois was willing to transfer the lease into my name, as long as I found a way to afford to remain here. Reluctantly, I put an ad on craigslist.
Roommate needed for 2-BR apt. Female only, please. Must have a job. Email your information to Anya.Moss@simmail.com.
I threw in that part about females because I figured there are probably some guys out there who would respond just so they could meet a chick. I don’t really want to live with a guy, anyway. Who wants some guy she barely knows to see her with bedhead and no makeup? Not me.
I sighed as I shut off the computer and got up to get ready for work. It wasn’t just the roommate situation that had me feeling down. It seemed everyone around me was moving forward--getting married, having babies--while my own life was stuck in a rut. I’d gone from living my life in the extreme to just going through the motions. Even my boss at work was on maternity leave.
To make things worse, it was Valentine’s Day. Not only is it the most horrible day of the year to be single, it was also the anniversary of my first time with Jeff, all those years ago. This time of year always makes me wonder, if I hadn’t screwed up with Trey, would Jeff and I be married and happy now?
I’m pretty sure the answer is yes, but I always do my best not to dwell on what can’t be.
Since Lois had called in sick (I guess that morning sickness stuff is no joke), I walked to work by myself, lost in thought. My “replacement boss” was a chef from a sister restaurant, and he tended to work us harder than our usual head honcho. I had a feeling he didn’t like me much, because he gave me more work than anyone else in the kitchen.
It seemed that today would be no different. As soon as I walked in the door, my boss, Chris, approached me with a special assignment.
“Anya, we got a catering gig down at the bookstore tonight. I’m putting you in charge.”
“Tonight?” I squeaked. That was pretty short notice. “What’s the menu?”
Chris quickly went over the Banquet Event Order he had arranged with the bookstore. I was relieved it was nothing too fancy--mostly hors d’oeuvres and finger foods--but I still had to get moving if I wanted to get the majority of it ready before it was time for the event to get started.
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I worked hard all afternoon, but managed to complete the order just before 6pm. I loaded the cart into the restaurant’s van and carefully made my way to the bookstore, pulling around back to unload.
I shook the manager’s hand and introduced myself, and showed him the different dishes as I set up the banquet table. Curious, I asked what the event was.
“Book signing,” he said. “We have renowned author Cocaine Chimeree here for the night!”
I paused in the act of arranging hors d’oeuvres. “No way! I know him! Well..kind of.” It had been years since I had last seen Coke.
I busied myself making sure everything was perfect with the food, and tried to ignore the sudden butterflies I felt at the thought of seeing Coke again. I’d known he was still writing, and had even bought his latest book. I’d always thought it was funny that he went through all that crap at the Institute in France, even though he never really planned to make a living as a chef. He’d mentioned that he just liked to learn about things. I’d always admired that about him.
The store became pretty crowded as the time for the signing approached. I stood mostly out of sight, but near the banquet table, ready to replace missing items as needed, but also watching intently as Coke took his seat at the signing table.
His hair was different, I noticed, and his clothes, but other than that, he looked exactly the same as I remembered. I watched him smile at his fans and speak with them amiably. I could tell he was slightly uncomfortable with the crowd, but he was pretty good at making sure his discomfort didn’t show to his fans. He was probably pretty practiced at it, by now.
For my part, the food seemed well-received, and I spent a busy night making sure the table was well-stocked and the food was either kept warm or chilled. The manager shot me smiles a couple of times as he ran around helping customers, letting me know he noticed. I was sure the bookstore wouldn’t hesitate to contact our restaurant again for catering services.
I wanted to say hi to Coke, to see if he even remembered me, but I couldn’t do so while we were both working. Eventually, it was closing time for the bookstore, but Coke hadn’t gotten through the whole line of fans. The manager of the store approached me and asked if my restaurant would be able to do a repeat performance the next night, and I said I’d speak to my boss and see if we could fit it in as I began to pack up.
Suddenly, I felt a touch on my shoulder.
“Miss Moss? Anya, is that you?”
So he did remember me. I turned around with a small smile. “Mr. Chimeree. It’s good to see you again.”
He laughed. “We’re out of the institute, Anya. Please, call me Coke.” God, he had gorgeous eyes. How had I never noticed before? Suddenly, I realized I was wearing my dumpy work uniform, and I felt pretty self-conscious. I got so wrapped up in wondering how many food stains were on my smock that I missed most of what Coke said next.
“…chat and catch up.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
He chuckled. “I said, ‘I haven’t spent much time in Bridgeport. Would you mind showing me around a bit? We could chat and catch up.’”
“Oh! Sure, that…that sounds fun.”
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Coke was gracious enough to come back to my place first, so I could get changed. He chatted with Lois and Lincoln (who were surprised and happy to see him) while I got out of my work clothes and into something nicer. I couldn’t understand why I was so nervous. Probably just because I hadn’t seen Coke in ages.
I heard laughter from the living room as I descended the stairs, but when I rounded the corner, Coke stopped mid-sentence and stared at me for a moment. Then he cleared his throat.
“Ahem…wow. I mean, you look very nice, Anya.” I felt heat rise to my cheeks as I blushed. Blushed. Usually, it takes a lot more than a compliment to make me blush. I thanked him, and then glanced at Lois and Lincoln as if noticing them for the first time.
“Oh, um..did you guys want to come along? We’re just going on a little tour of the city.”
“Thanks for the invite, Anya, but I’m still not really feeling up to anything,” Lois responded. Lincoln chose to stay home with his wife, and I was shocked to realize I was happy Coke and I would have the night to ourselves.
Oh my God, I think I like him!
I tried to quash the thought and the feeling both. There was no way Coke would ever return those kinds of feelings, and I wouldn’t deserve a man like him even if he did.
And so Coke and I spent the rest of the evening traversing Bridgeport and talking about everything under the sun. Or, moon I guess, since it was nighttime. I showed him the fountains at the city center, all the tall buildings, the butterfly sanctuary…we even took a taxi over the bridge to where all the big stars live and checked out the mansions--and the view.
“Your city is lovely,” Coke said as we stood on a hill overlooking Bridgeport. Then he turned to me. “But not as lovely as you.” He gently brushed my cheek with his fingertips as my heart pounded in my chest.
“You’ve changed, Miss Moss,” he continued with a crooked smile on his lips. “When I knew you before, you were hiding behind a façade, but now you’re truly you. It’s nice.”
“I am?” I said. Funny that just when I’m the least sure of myself I’ve ever been, Coke seems to think I’m at my best. I caught myself staring into his eyes, and he was looking right back.
And then, slowly, he began to lean forward, bringing his lips closer to mine inch by inch. He’s going to kiss me! The realization sent feelings of both anticipation and panic pulsing through my body. I can’t let myself do this again. I can’t. Not with him. Coke, who had been the only person to help bring me out of my confusion back in France. He was a nice guy--too nice to get mixed up with the likes of me. I was a tramp. I could never make him happy.
“I…Coke…I can’t do this.”
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I’d once again like to thank mmmtoast for the invaluable help she’s been this generation as an insider into the world of chefs. :) I’m thinking Anya’s chapters will probably go over my usual 10 per generation - hope you all don’t mind!