Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology

by Anthony, Jane

  Still, she needed to do this. Even if it was just an exercise in humiliation, it was an exercise. It was time to take a step forward, and she did that. She walked six blocks through the neighborhood to get to the bus stop, and she told herself the entire time to just take a step forward, take a step forward.

  She arrived breathless and sweaty, and almost immediately went to turn around. There were two kids, no older than twelve, but they looked like convicts. When they saw her approach, they both turned to one another, mouths wide with excitement. “Dude,” one shouted.

  “Dude, shut up,” the other looked at her to check if she was listening.

  She nearly winced when she saw his shameless grin. She really shouldn’t have been doing this. There was nothing to sit on, other than the bench they were leaning their bikes against and a shopping cart, kicked to its side in the gravel a few feet away.

  Rather than stand and allow every car that passed a glimpse of what she was wearing, Lori decided to take her jacket off and use it cover a space on the cart, so she could sit down. There was a moment where she thought the metal bars would snap under her weight, but they held.

  She liked the outfit better without the jacket, which she left at the bus stop. She spent most of the ride fixing her hair. She unbuttoned her shirt an rolled up her sleeves. She caught a glimpse of herself in the window when she got off. She wasn’t a beauty queen, but at least she didn’t look like a complete idiot. That meant that whether or not she got the job depended solely on what she did.

  That was a thought that Lori could be at peace with. She wasn’t intimidated when she saw the building—a mock-up of an ancient Chinese home with rice paper walls and sliding doors. There was a garden in front with a coi pond and sculpted bonsai.

  Inside, the hostess was about to show a couple to their table. “Right this way.”

  She gave Lori a congenial nod before leading them off. Lori took a seat on a bench near the podium and waited. There was a bar to her right, past that, two rows of booths and the patio entrance.

  It was difficult not to notice the sound of the kitchen door swinging back and forth—the scent of ginger, soy and rice pouring out. She missed the creativity and the excitement that was possible in the kitchen. They let their chefs choose what they wanted to make, using every ingredient man could find.

  Lori couldn’t possibly hope to get a job cooking. Even the dishwashers at the Lotus Garden were highly skilled. She had less than a year’s worth of experience in the back of the house. They’d laugh if she tried to pass herself off as a real chef.

  “Table for one?” a sing-song voice squeaked.

  “No,” Lori stood to address the elderly woman that had emerged from behind the bar.

  “You want table?” she yelped.

  “No, I’m here for th—

  “You no want table, you leave. This is a business.”

  “I’m here for...” Lori trailed off when the women turned to pull the phone off the hook on the wall behind her.

  “I’ll call the cops.”

  She wasn’t sure whether to run out or try to explain herself. The old lady was already reaching up on her tiptoes to dial the numbers. “Mom, what are you doing?”

  The hostess came rushing up and grabbed the phone out of her hand.

  “There’s a misu—

  “She won’t leave,” the old woman shouted.

  “You’re not a bum asking for money, are you?” the hostess asked.

  “I—

  “She doesn’t want table. I ask her go, and she won’t.”

  “I—

  Lori was interrupted by a vicious bout of what she assumed to be Cantonese, judging by the wide range in pitch—high to low—and the way they threw the words out like ping-pong balls, back and forth, faster and faster, letting their voices tremble and squeak.

  She turned to leave, and the young woman shouted out, “Don’t let her push you out of here like that. I’ll get you a table.”

  “No, it’s...” Lori faltered under the sharp eye of the elderly woman. “I’m here about the server position.”

  “You want to be server!? Hah, we not hiring.”

  “You had an ad online.”

  “We want tea girl. You want to be tea girl?” The old woman rose two eyebrows.

  “Mom,” the hostess groaned.

  “You follow me,” she commanded, and immediately darted behind the bar. Lori scurried through, past the bartenders, who were busy satiating a thirsty crowd of businessmen.

  The kitchen door opened, and Lori stepped back at the sight of what looked like skinned rabbits—waiting for the flies to colonize them—hung up in a row above an endless pile of plastic plates on the back wall.

  There were clumps of food, moldy and stinking, caked on every surface. Workers were shuffling past, carrying pristine plates through the hellish scene, and Lori was completely dumbfounded.

  The old woman didn’t wait. She disappeared inside, leaving Lori to try to understand why there were two dirty futons leaning against the wall to her right. “You follow!”

  A voice shouted out, and Lori stepped inside, doing her best to breathe in through her mouth. The famous pho pot was sitting on the stove to her left, and the outside was covered in layers of purple grime. She didn’t think it had been cleaned since they put it on the fire, and that must have been decades ago.

  The old woman had disappeared through the office door, near the stove. Lori could hear her throwing things around, shouting in Cantonese as she did. “Get in here,” she stuck her head out.

  Lori wasn’t sure which she preferred, the kitchen—which wasn’t even safe to stand in—or the office, where the woman was holding out a bunched up bundle of embroidered white fabric. She was looking at Lori like she was trying to decide which spices her body would marinate well in. “Tea girl wear this.”

  Lori snatched the fabric away and unfolded it to see. It was a dress with a mandarin collar, and it would have been tasteful had it not been tween-sized.

  “You won’t get tips looking like an old lady. You do your hair. Come back tonight when ready.”

  “What’s the pay?” she asked.

  “You work for cash, under the table,” the old woman pushed her out towards the bar and ordered her to come back later. Her daughter gave Lori a sympathetic smile when Lori passed her on the way out.

  A few hours later, she found herself standing in the garden, unsure of what to do next. There was something inside her that wanted to run, ignore the red notice on her apartment door, the electric, the gas—which had already gotten shut off—and just try to find something else, something that wasn’t demeaning or cheap, but she had to roll with the punches in life.

  She told herself, like she always did, that she’d find something new. There was always somebody better hiring. She just had to convince them that she was the woman for the job. It wasn’t easy. She would be on her feet, prancing around with half of her body showing all night. She’d be too tired to go out and do something meaningful the next day, but she had to.

  When she got home, and she saw that dress—the way she had to keep pulling it down to keep anything from showing—she almost turned around and climbed into bed. She didn’t want this.

  She had ambition and strength. She was the kid in class who actually did the work, because she was going to become something. She wasn’t going to let the petty crap that tied her peers down keep her behind. She knew what mattered. She still knew, so how did she end up dressed like a bad Chinese hooker, sitting at a bus stop at sundown?

  The interview outfit was ridiculous, but it was nothing like what she was wearing now. It was like she’d sprayed sugar water on her skin and laid down in the middle of a cloud of insects. On the way to the bus stop, men were watching out their windows and swerving in their lanes to get a look at the available piece of meat just waiting to be abducted and dragged back to their cave.

  Her phone was a welcome distraction. It allowed her to focus on mundane things, like the
news and celebrity gossip—or the pictures that Reina kept sending, detailing her life as a small town nurse, and all of the things she planned on doing when she moved in a few months.

  They would spend time talking to one another before Reina started her shift in the evening, so Lori already expected having to ignore her call, even though she told her about the interview last night. She was texting when Lori got on the bus, but Lori wasn’t paying attention.

  She was trying to avoid the stares of the homeless men watching her when she moved passed them to get a seat. People looked the entire ride there, and they didn’t even bother trying to hide it.

  She was ‘that’ woman—the one whose life was so pathetic that she was willing to do anything to make a dime, even if it meant going out with no clothes on. There was a whole host of connotations that came along with that perception. She was dirty, easy and rough—the kind of woman that didn’t care how she was treated, because they’d already accepted their place in life.

  Maybe that was why Lori hated her life so much. It felt that way, as the passengers streamed past her to get to their seats. They all saw her for what she was, but she didn’t. She thought that she was special, that life had something more to offer her; when really, she just didn’t know how bad off she was.

  Normal people had cars and houses at her age. They didn’t have to worry about whether to buy bus fare or instant noodles. They had clothes that they could wear to a job interview, and they had relationships—real ones, not the shallow trysts she’d experienced over the years—real love.

  She needed love. When the bus stopped, and the driver called out her street, she wasn’t sure she could get off. She knew what was waiting, how things would turn out, and she had already memorized every single step it took to get there.

  This job wouldn’t even last a few months, if that. What was the point in putting herself through all of this if the result was going to be the same as it always had been? She’d slave away, putting herself in compromising positions for the promise of cash, and when things went sour, she’d be in the same situation—no money and less than ten dollars in bus fare.

  “Getting off?” the driver shouted, irritated that she was holding everything up. He wouldn’t warn her again. If she didn’t make a move to get off, he’d slam on the accelerator, and she’d end up getting thrown forward. He was about to slam the door shut when she rushed up and darted for the door. “Make up your mind!”

  She had already made up her mind when she saw the dress they were going to make her wear, but she didn’t have a choice. She was being evicted, and she needed to make up enough money to find a place before they sent the constable to come throw her out.

  The crowd in front of the restaurant had multiplied, and it seemed like everyone was looking at her when she walked past them with her eyes low. Reina called again ,and she took her phone out to tell her to stop; she was at work, and she was upset enough—having to walk around without pants. She didn’t need to be bothered by somebody that made three times as much as she did.

  “Dinner service at six,” a sing-song voice cut through the crowd, and the old woman from before came scampering through. “You come at six. Six? You understand?”

  “Of co—

  She grabbed Lori by the arm and started pulling her through into the lobby, towards the kitchen. Once inside, she announced, “You will say nothing to them—nothing, just silence. These are very important guests. You know tea ritual?”

  Lori shook her head.

  “Just...look pretty!”

  Rather than take Lori back out into the lobby, she handed her a porcelain tea-set and shoved her out the back door. Without any preparation, Lori did the only thing she could think of to do. She kept her eyes averted and slowly ambled over to where the guests were seated on the private patio.

  She was almost moved to tears, knowing what they were probably thinking. She wasn’t close enough to see them, but she knew how she looked—a little too old to be so slutty—and that was exactly how she felt.

  It wasn’t until she was close enough to see them that realized why they were both watching her so intently. “Get her something to cover herself up with,” Cade demanded, and George was on his feet, rushing towards the entrance.

  Lori stayed still, arms crossed watching him watch her at his place at the table. She was reduced to nothing, just her flesh and what little cloth she’d been allowed to wear, and she was standing in front of the love of her life—a billionaire, who she rejected. It was a sock to the face. She couldn’t withstand the humiliation. “You’re embarrassed,” he said, shocked, as he rose to his feet.

  She squared her jaw. “How did you find me?”

  “You have a loyal friend,” he said.

  A sob tore through the brittle wall of shame and pride that she relied on so much—it was almost impossible to stand without it. If he was there, she must have some value—some beauty—or he wouldn’t be rushing to meet her and wrap his arms around her, kiss her cheeks—then her lips. She could believe that now, but it had been so difficult, wading through filth and hell just to survive. Nobody else believed that she was worth something, so why should she?

  Now she couldn’t deny it, or his lips—his touch, his arms, a jacket covering her ridiculous dress. These were his gifts, and she was offering him one in return by accepting them. That’s what she was meant to do.

  Epilogue

  “This is divine, and how do you pronounce it?” she asked, helping herself to another strip.

  Lori met her eyes and enunciated as best as she could. “Oaxaca—wha...hawk...uh.”

  “Wha-hawk-uh,” she repeated back with a giggle.

  “It’s mostly used for quesadillas, sometimes tortas—you know, things where you want the cheese to melt. And this,” Lori pointed to a bowl sitting next to it, “is queso blanco—white cheese. It does melt, but it holds its form. There’s a popular street food in Mexico City, where they dip this in masa and fry it—oh, my God...so good.”

  “It has a softer taste,” Jan said, taking a handful for itself. “It’s perfect for a topping. I don’t know why they don’t use it more on salads.”

  “I think that salads call for a contrast in flavor,” Lori said. “Something weak wouldn’t add the kick you want to counteract the bland vegetables.”

  “But this could accent them,” Jan said. “I’ve been thinking about finding ways to bring out a food’s natural flavor. It’s so much more satisfying.”

  Lori nodded along, watching the silhouette in the door grow behind her. When he got close, she raised a hand to interrupt. “Try the fajitas, and we’ll talk about what dishes we want to put on the menu after breakfast service.”

  “Sounds good,” Jan said before leaving to pull a plate out of the cupboard. A taco did sound appetizing, but Lori was bewitched by the sight of Cade standing at the base of the steps, his features masked in the darkness.

  He waved to her, and she found herself going down to meet him. It was an instinct now. Whenever he was close, she came to his side. She didn’t like being too far away from him. His gentle quiet calmed her. She reached the bottom of the steps, and he came closer. She could see beads of light reflecting off his forehead. “How did it go?”

  “The usual,” he said. “The kids followed me around, trying to take my hat, while their parents worked themselves up over how safe the ship was. Thank you for that last round,” he told her, while they made their way through the restaurant lobby.

  “I had a feeling a little bit of alcohol would help bring things to a close.”

  “Meet the captain is never easy, especially on family cruises cruises,” he said, stopping at the elevator to retrieve his key. She came to his side, leaned against the wall and used hers. He was looking at the ground, watching her pose out of the corner of his eye.

  “Do you like the uniform?” she asked him when the doors opened. He smiled and took her by the shoulder to crash her up against the wall. The entire ship could have been standing belo
w, watching them, and she wouldn’t have cared. His kiss was love’s touch.

  As his breath hastened, and his tongue sunk through, it became the essence of passion. It had her heart beating, and her eyelashes fluttering as she took in a prolonged breath.

  The shaft broke through the ceiling, blocking the view of the passengers below, and he pinched her nipples through her shirt—both of them. They hardened instantly, and the skin around them rose into a tiny mountain ranges, each one a lightning rod, pulling in pleasure like lightning.

  The doors opened, and he pulled away, long enough to make her think he was going to let her by. Instead, he let out a sharp snarl and bit onto her bottom lip with one leg raised back to keep the doors open.

  She pressed her hands to his chest, wrenching her lip away, and he squeezed her hips as she took control, sliding her tongue through his mouth, leading him backwards into their personal suite.

  So far as Julie knew, they never climbed into bed from the sides. Instead, they clamored past, interlocked, barely aware of their surroundings. Their lips were fighting, and they didn’t have time to think.

  Cade turned her around, so that she was facing the door. Her calf hit the footboard, and she was pushed backwards. That was how they got into bed. She slammed into the mattress, her hair flying out at the sides, and he hunched over to let his tongue pour in past her lips.

  A sharp burst of air hit her in the chest. She checked down and caught his eyes—startled by his devilish grin. He was unbuttoning her chef’s jacket, revealing the bare skin below her neckline. It was too hot in the kitchen for a t-shirt, so she wore a thin tank top.

  She was going to feel everything he did, even the friction from his fingerprints. They would scrape against the skin, and the fabric would send shivers through her—down her sides, across her stomach. The hairs on her neck were already rising at the thought.

  He had a sixth sense. His lips rested behind her ear, and his breath become a current, fluttering across her skin and making it tingle. Those hairs became conduits, absorbing electricity and sending it surging down her neck, as he attacked it with a series of kisses, like raindrops, warm and comforting, pooling up wherever they landed.