Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
First Course
JAMIE
Some people just have more luck than others.
This was completely accepted as fact in some cultures where people consulted mediums and psychics before making any rash decisions concerning business, love, or money.
If the cards or the local soothsayer spelled out something dismal, retreat until the odds were more favorable.
Luck, or something like it, was arbitrarily bestowed.
For further proof of this, look at who wins the lottery.
Historically, the only kind of luck Jamie had was bad.
Bad timing. Bad bets. Bad picker. The fates had not aligned in her favor, which largely explained why she was on this very date to begin with, in the decade of her forties, jobless, about to be stalked by a killer, and dealing with a financial threat wrought by her own mother.
Her bad luck streak had taken a downturn toward cursed.
But maybe, just maybe the universe decided to choose this moment to shine on Jamie.
She had rolled the dice, and they came up with the dashing form of Cliff, who smelled like sandalwood and spices, gazed at her with intelligent eyes, and possessed the kind of energy she didn’t even know she was looking for.
Jamie hoped the vibe she felt radiating off him was intended for her.
It seemed like it was, but she didn’t want to read it wrong.
Her prejudgment senses were kicking in and she was getting charming, smooth, confident.
Why smooth? Smooth was used in the context of con men or hustlers. Not smooth. Maybe charismatic? She was misreading something but chalked it up to the otherworldly feeling of being on a natural high.
For now, the moment seemed perfect, and she didn’t want to break the spell with too much overthinking. She simply basked in the glow of hope.
The waitress, Amber, came over with a tray of drinks.
She proceeded to put down the wrong one in front of every single person.
“There, that should do it.” As she walked away, she clipped the chair, tripped, and her tray skittered across the dining room.
As soon as she gathered herself and tray, walking away, everyone traded drinks to get what they ordered.
The only one not to receive a drink was Cliff. Jamie looked over.
“She may have forgotten mine,” he said quietly.
Just then Amber came back and slammed a bottle of beer on the table in front of Cliff. It started to fizz over the rim of the bottle. Cliff murmured, “Thanks.” He picked it up and slurped the suds before they fell on the table.
When Amber departed, Holly said, “She might be the worst waitress in the world.”
“That’s surprising,” Jamie said.
“There is a well-known shortage of servers right now,” Holly offered.
Jamie shook her head. “It’s just that I overheard the bartender and our terrible waitress talking about how big this night is for Chef Pascal.” She discreetly pointed over to the couple sitting against the far wall. “That’s Nigel Spokes. Food critic. Could make or break the place, or so I’m told.”
Everyone at the table craned their necks to take a good long look at the couple seated by the wall. The woman with Nigel momentarily stopped glaring at Nigel long enough to notice the attention. Nigel turned around and everyone instantly looked away.
“I know him. He writes for the LA Times Food section. He led me to a food truck on Flower and 4th street that served the best brussels sprouts of my life,” Rick said.
“Those were to die for,” Holly added, apparently having had them, too. Rick’s raised eyebrows implied he was impressed by Holly’s insider foodie knowledge.
“You’d think Amber would try to make a better impression,” Jamie said.
Cliff didn’t say a word and busied himself cleaning up the beer foam.
“Maybe she’s preoccupied,” Shannon offered. “I know when I was going through a breakup, I accidentally gave the wrong pharma samples away.”
“Really. How incredibly irresponsible of you. Anyone die?” Holly asked.
Shannon shot Holly a look. “It’s not like I mixed up cyanide with Advil,” Shannon said. She shrugged lightly and added, “A couple of guys who thought they were taking Viagra ended up with estrogen instead.”
Rick’s jaw dropped slightly. “That could ruin a guy’s life.” But then quickly added, “Not mine of course, I don’t need Viagra, but you know, guys who rely on that kind of thing.”
Shannon shrugged. “No, not really, a little estrogen can’t really hurt a guy. Might make him empathetic for a couple days, might find himself doing the dishes, talking about his feelings, and watching The View, but no permanent damage done.” Shannon snorted at her own joke.
Kyle joined in her laughter, and Shannon seemed to blossom in the glow of it.
Rick piped up, addressing the elephant in the restaurant. “So, here we are. Singles set up on a group blind date. Sounds like the start of a rom-com.”
“Or a horror movie.” Holly took a sip of her drink.
Just then all their phones pinged at the same time. Everyone consulted their screen to find a text from Lorna that read:
“Singles–Pro tip: Stay off your phones during a date! Put all your phones in the middle of the table. First one to grab their phone pays for a round of drinks. Also, ICEbrEAKERS: Where did you grow up? Describe yourself in three words. What destination is on your bucket list? Enjoy, singles!”
Jamie shuddered at the three words to describe yourself. She didn’t want to give up her secret gift, now or ever. Besides, she found it much harder to describe herself than to describe others.
Mercifully, Rick spoke up. “I don’t think we need the icebreakers just yet, do we? We’re adults, we can create our own conversations without prompts.” He flashed his gleaming white smile, forcing his opinion on the rest of them.
Holly shrugged. Shannon sucked down the rest of her drink through the straw.
“I’m game for the phone thing if you guys are,” Kyle said.
Jamie nodded and put hers in the middle of the table, followed by the others.
Rick reluctantly relinquished his device.
But, Cliff declined without explanation.
He just said, “I can’t do that. I’m sorry, but I will put it away. ” Cliff put it in his pants pocket.
Amber arrived with Justin the bartender as they delivered small porcelain serving spoons on which was a perfectly composed “seared scallop with a truffle foam and a white wine reduction,” as announced by Amber. “Bon appétit.” She briskly walked away.
Jamie picked up her spoon and tipped it into her mouth for the first divine bite, as did the others.
Group conversations were always a little hard for her because it was mostly small talk about things that seemed like they revealed your personality, but in actuality did not.
Rick, however, had no problems with this line of talk as long as it was about him.
Jamie half listened as he yammered on about his job while she stole glances at Cliff.
Every time, she got caught. Every time, he held her gaze.
“And then we won the Furbear Dog Chow account, and that put us on the map.”
“It’s interesting,” Holly Kim said.
“Thank you. I think so, too.” Rick smiled broadly.
“No, I meant that it’s interesting that you think regular people care about advertising.”
Rick started turning red. “Great advertising is the intersection of art and commerce. You remember brands because of the work we do.” He used both thumbs to point at himself. “You pick laundry detergent, cars, computers, and yes, dog chow, based on how we sell it.”
“I disagree.” Holly took a drink from her glass and looked away as Rick balled his hands into fists.
“You write jingles? I love that one about wieners,” Shannon said.
“You’re missing my point, and jingles are the lowest form of advertising,” Rick protested.
“What’s wrong with jingles?” Kyle asked.
“Jingles work,” Jamie added, helpfully singing, “Gimme a break, gimme a break—
“Break me off a piece of that KitKat bar,” Cliff finished the jingle.
Kyle started another totally new jingle and the entire group, except a fuming Rick, joined in the chorus. They even did harmony. “Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there!”
Jamie sung, “Every kiss begins with Kay!”
Cliff started low, “I want my baby back, baby back, baby back…”
Shannon in a soft, high jazzy voice, “Chili’s baby back ribs…”
“Stop!” Rick shouted as he covered his ears with his hands. The whole table went silent and stared at him.
“Just sayin’,” Shannon implored. “Jingles are the best!”
“I do not write jingles!” Rick bellowed and then skulled his fancy French wine.
Everyone looked down at their dish, each spoon empty except for lingering sauce. Amber was back collecting plates when she said, “Anyone else need another drink?”
All hands went up.
As the six singles settled in at the table, alcohol lowering their inhibitions, Jamie half heard the conversation going on between Rick and Holly.
Holly asked, “So how did your last relationship end?”
Rick said, “I just told her, ‘Look, there ain’t no good guy, there ain’t no bad guy. There’s only you and me and we just disagree.’”
Holly squinted at him. “Aren’t those Dave Mason lyrics?”
“Shit.” Rick paused for a second. “Do you think she knew that?”
On the other side of the table, Shannon and Kyle were dancing around information but were having a hard time getting to the point.
“So, what do you like to do beyond work?” asked a nonchalant Shannon.
“Uh, I, uh, play golf?”
“You sure?” Shannon giggled as if this couldn’t possibly be true.
“Yes?” Kyle said, sounding completely unsure.
“Come on,” Shannon jabbed him playfully. “You’re a gamer, aren’t you? I heard you drop a hint about World of Warcraft earlier.”
Kyle nearly turned white. He barked, “Adults don’t game. Gamers are losers.”
Shannon sighed, seemed to shut down, and went back to sipping her vodka soda.
And then there was Cliff. Jamie and Cliff were creating their own universe across the table, quietly, as if the rest of the table, the restaurant, the whole world had just melted away.
“How’s Dash?”
Jamie couldn’t help but smile. “You remembered his name.”
“He’s hard to forget.”
“Dash hates everyone but the mailman. He’s complicated.”
Cliff chuckled and Jamie saw the dimple on the side of his cheek.
“So, what brings you here tonight, on a group blind date?” Jamie asked.
“It’s funny, I almost canceled.”
“Is that why you were late? Second thoughts?”
“Yeah, you could say that. See, I met this girl. But we kept getting interrupted before we could connect in any real way.”
Her heart beat a little faster. “Funny, I met a guy. Same thing kept happening. The last time I had a client meeting, I saw him.”
“The one who grabbed your wrist.” Cliff looked down at the table.
Jamie remembered Duncan’s whipsaw change in attitude and his broken phones. “You don’t happen to know anything about why Duncan had a red mark on his forehead, as if he’d been slapped, and two broken phones, do you?”
Cliff gave her a thin smile and a look that told her he absolutely was the one who broke those phones. “Some men need a friendly reminder how to be chivalrous.”
Jamie grinned. “Agreed.” He had threatened another man for her. Hot.
He clasped his hands together and leaned in. “So, I was going to cancel, but then I got here, and it turns out—”
“Second course!” Amber nearly yelled as she delivered plates of small roasted artichokes in a citrus sauce. Justin the bartender was behind her with more plates.
Jamie cast a glance Cliff’s way over the commotion of the food delivery. Her senses filled with the glow of possibility at the other end of the white linen tablecloth.