“Jamaican feijoada?” I laughed. “What? There’s no such thing,” I teased him.
“Ahhh...y’see? Now that’s where you wrong. I guess you still not graspin’ the concept of my restaurant,” he teased me back with that sexy little lift of the eyebrows.
I felt myself flush. “Hmm...I get it...some Brazilian-Jamaican fusion huh?" I sighed. "Well I guess that I have to try.”
He watched me for another moment and then gave me that slow, sexy smile again. “Come see me before you go home, I’ll wrap it up for you – you can let me know what you think later.” He paused for a moment. “Y’have your phone?”
My stomach flipped again. “My phone? Yeah, it’s inside...want me to get it?”
“Nah, it’s okay...” He was patting the pockets of his jeans and pulled out a pen and a small piece of paper. “We can do this old-school,” he explained as he jotted his digits on the back of what looked like a receipt – and then quickly examined the paper he’d written on and let out a little laugh. “Just don’t judge me on this, though...”
He handed me the piece of paper and I glanced at the receipt and laughed along with him. Fast-food.
“Two Egg McMuffins, hash browns, and a medium coffee,” I read out loud.
“No, the other side,” he instructed me, smiling at my amusement. “Call me or text me or whatever…” He started backing up toward the back door leading to his kitchen. “I’m usually outta here by nine during the week so let me know what night work for you and maybe we can go grab another drink somewhere...”
I smiled. “That sounds great.”
And for a good while after the door shut behind him I still stood there, grinning like an idiot, completely blown away by everything that was happening to me.
Ω
Two nights later we arranged to meet for drinks at The Irish Heather in Gastown. I had scrambled last minute to have Aunt Teresa agree to stay the night. The last thing I wanted was to have to ditch out early from our date to be home for my normal “curfew” of eleven pm.
I got there early and took a seat in a secluded corner so we could have ample space and privacy. I ordered a glass of red wine and settled back to wait for him. As soon as I clicked on my phone and noticed he was five minutes late I glanced up and saw Ben casually making his way past the bar and through the sparse crowd that had already gathered there. My heart jumped when I noticed how amazing he could clean up. He was dressed casually in a fitted button-down baby-blue shirt that showed off his upper-body perfectly and a nice pair of black jeans that hung so temptingly low on his hips as always. His dreads were tied back as usual. I noticed a number of female heads turn as he passed, making it obvious I was not the only one that could see how unbelievably sexy this man was.
He smiled as he pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. “You been waiting long?” he asked, but didn’t wait for a response as his eyes moved from my face to my cleavage and back up again. “That’s a nice dress...”
I laughed softly. “Thank you...and no, I just got here. I hope I got us a good table – what you think?”
He turned and glanced around briefly. “Perfect...”
I took a breath and fixed my eyes on him again. “You smell really good.” I had to say it. There was just something about a man who knew how to wear cologne just right.
He looked back over at me. “Really...” He said it softly, not quite in the form of a question.
I smiled. “Yes, really. What is it?”
He hesitated briefly, his eyes dropping to my chest again. “What you mean?” He seemed confused.
“Your cologne,” I clarified, amused at the fact that he was suddenly the one tripping over his words.
He smiled. “I’m sorry – but you really shoulda wore a scarf or somethin’ ‘cause am gettin’ real distracted right now.” Then his eyes fixed on mine again. “Armani,” he said simply.
My mouth fell open. “Damn. You’re not shy,” I noted.
He let out a little sexy laugh. “I know. And obviously, neither are you.” He gestured with his eyes again.
“Come on!” I couldn’t help a little laugh with him, but took a self-conscious glance down at myself. “It’s not that low.” I looked around the room. “And you’re the only one staring, you know,” I pointed out.
He smiled. “I’m not complaining.” He nodded at my glass. “So what are we drinking, Gabriela?”
“A cabernet sauvignon,” I told him. “It’s Chilean.”
The waitress came by and Ben ordered a pint of Guiness and a half-litre of my wine for me.
He leaned back in his chair after our waitress left with our order and focused his attention back on me. “So how was your day? Your week finally through...”
I nodded. “I know... My day was good. So far,” I added.
Ben glanced at his watch. “Yes, we have another two hours to go...so w’happen at midnight? You don’t turn into a pumpkin or anything, right?”
I laughed. “Now that was a bad joke...but no.”
He smiled. “Sorry...my charm start wearin’ off, I know. Am not used to this.”
I was confused. “To what?”
“Sittin’ across from such a beautiful woman.”
I gave him a suspicious look. “Why do I find that so hard to believe?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I work a lot. I don’t really have time for many extra-curricular activities...”
“So what are you saying?” I was still confused. “You don’t date?”
He shook his head slowly. “Nope.”
“Ever?” I was finding it very hard to take him seriously.
“Well...it’s been a very long time,” he said then. “When I open my restaurant I told myself if am gonna make it I have to make this my life – good or bad, it’s all or nothing – I just live and breathe the business, and that don’t really come natural for me because I told you before, am not a businessman. But you know...when you passionate about something you find a way to throw yourself into it completely – you just forget about everything else. Including women.” He smiled apologetically. For some reason his explanation made my heart race even faster.
I nodded slowly, recovering myself. I did understand in a way. But not in any way I was ready to talk about – at least not yet.
“So what about you?” His question caught me off-guard.
“Me?” I looked up.
“Yeah you,” he said in that slow sexy way of his. “When last you been out with a man?”
“Hmmm...” I thought. “A few months...I mean, just casually...I don’t know...nothing serious.”
“Why is that?” he wanted to know.
“Well...” I sighed. “Men can be very difficult.”
He raised his eyebrows, an amused look on his face. “How are we difficult?”
I took a sip of my wine. “Men don’t like to admit what they really want. They just like to play games – and I don’t really have time for that.”
“What do we really want?” He looked terribly interested.
“Hmmm...let’s see...” I decided to take a chance. “Well, I don’t know...a man will tell you a whole bunch of garbage about any and everything but will never tell you all he wants is sex. And so to me, it’s just one big waste of time.”
He kept giving me that intense look. He looked to be debating what I had just said. “I see...so you saying you prefer to date a man who doesn’t want sex?”
I smiled. “No. I just wish men would just come out and be straight about what they want. Booty call. Relationship. Whatever. Just be honest. And then I can decide what I want...does that make sense?”
He looked a little puzzled. “I’m not sure...I’m not like that so I can’t say...” He looked to be pondering the thought. “I mean, if I just want to fuck a woman am gonna come straight out and say it.”
I caught my breath. “You are?”
“Of course. ‘Cause I already told you, I’m a busy guy – I don’t have time to beat around d
a bush about anything really, least of all sex...”
“I see...” I paused. “But I thought you don’t date.”
He kind of laughed. “Who’s talkin’ about dating? I’m talkin’ about sex – that’s not the same thing.”
“Hmmm...” I nodded slowly. “I guess you’re right.”
He was looking at me. “Can I be honest with you?”
I braced myself. “Of course.”
“You sure?” He was giving me an out.
I decided against taking it. I wanted to know what he was going to say. “I’m sure.”
“Well...” He leaned back again, watching me closely. “The first day I saw you in the restaurant...from the first moment I saw you, I already knew I wanted to fuck you.”
I caught my breath at his directness but decided to let him finish.
He didn’t take his eyes off me. “I mean...you...when I look at you I just see everything that I like. It’s not every day I see a woman that take my breath away like you do... And knowing me, am always straight up and honest ‘bout everything so am just telling you all this right now because...as nice as it would be…am not just gonna try and fuck you. I knew that from the first day too. First, because I don’t think that’s how you operate and second because I prefer to get to know you instead... And I don’t know why, but...it just something am feeling...” He picked up his pint and took a sip, still watching me. “So if you used to a lot of men feeding you a bunch of shit about what their true intentions are then I think I should just put it out there... am not gonna bullshit you.”
My heart was going a mile a minute again. I had never heard a man talk to me like that. I was falling – hard. And it scared me.
“So...what about you?”
“Me?” I tried to regain my composure.
He smiled again. “I told you my intentions so I want to know yours.”
I had never been asked that question before. I took a small sip of my wine and looked at him. Now it was my turn to be bold.
“What if I told you my intentions are just to fuck you?” I told myself it was only the wine talking...
He took a moment to contemplate it. Then he nodded slowly. “Then I would tell you to go ahead and take care of the cheque while I go call us a cab.”
I laughed. “That was funny. You’re on again.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
“I like you though,” I admitted. “There’s just something about you – maybe it’s the chef thing – there’s nothing sexier that a man who can cook.” The wine seemed to be having a premature effect on me.
He seemed pleased though. “Nothing?” He raised his eyebrows.
I smiled. “It’s a big one,” I assured him. “Also...” I paused. “I mean, I don’t know if you remember but...you didn’t freak out when I told you how I live with my mom. Most men are turned off by that or something but...for me...that’s just the way it is. So relationships don’t really come easy for me.”
I bit my lip. Relationships. I couldn’t believe I’d said that.
He was giving me that deep piercing look of his again. “Your mom is sick. That must not be easy.”
I shook my head slowly. “It’s not. I mean, some days are better than others... Some days she can get around a lot easier and we can just cook dinner together or watch a movie and talk or go to the park...and then some days she can’t even get out of bed... I actually lost my last job because she had a really bad spell and I missed too much time.” I shrugged. “So yeah...anyway...sorry. Bad topic.”
But Ben didn’t look bothered. He was just watching me so closely. And then he reached out and pushed a piece of hair from my face. It was just so tender. He didn’t say a word.
I met his eyes then. “Are you always like this?”
That caught him slightly off-guard. “Like what?”
I smiled. “I don’t know. Calm. You’re just so laid-back...even the other day when the water-main broke you were just so...relaxed.”
He laughed at that. “That’s just all the weed I smoke,” he teased me. “But I don’t know...some things just not worth it. Others are. But if you asking me if I can get pissed off about shit, the answer is yes.”
I smiled. “So then you are human.”
He nodded. “Of course. People can piss me off. But not things. Or circumstances not in our control.”
“What about your daughter?” I wondered.
I thought about Lazaro, my brother and I, as children. I pictured my mother’s second husband, Raoul, and his pension for whipping us at every little childhood misdeed and act of rebellion. Skinned knees, spilled milk, sibling squabbles. My experience with paternal figures in my life was far from patient and understanding.
He thought about my question. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “As soon as she start getting comfortable enough to misbehave I have to send her home to her mother.”
“Do you get along with her?”
“Who?”
“Your baby-mama,” I joked.
He smiled. “Better than I used to...but the worst part ain’t even that. A few months ago she move her man in with her, so...maybe it’s not rational, and as far as I know there nothing wrong with the guy but... Fuck.” He sucked his teeth, in that sexy way Caribbean men were known for. “You wanna see me get pissed off? Then just keep me on that topic...”
I smiled. “Well, we don’t want that. But if it’s any consolation...when I was about your daughter’s age my mom got married again. Couldn’t fucking stand him. And three years later she dumped his ass – happiest day of my life.”
He laughed. “Okay, so all is not lost...I like that.”
I nodded. “Me too.” I took another sip of wine. “This is good...”
Ben reached out and refilled my glass for me. “So what about your dad?”
I shook my head. “I never knew my dad. He left before I turned two. He’s probably still somewhere hustlin’ the streets of Sao Paulo. He was a loan shark – or so I been told.”
Ben raised his eyebrows. “Damn...”
“Yeah, we were lucky to get out,” I said then. “My uncle sponsored the three of us and brought us to Canada – me, my brother, my mom – and just in time too. Before she was diagnosed.”
“So where your brother at? He live with you too?”
I shook my head. “No. My brother went to music school in Montreal and got married to a French-Canadian. He’s a pianist. She’s a dancer. They have two kids now. He’s been home to visit a few times but my brother can’t really deal with my mom and her illness – never could.” I stopped talking. “How did we get on this topic again? Change it,” I ordered, jokingly.
Ben smiled. “You’re too interesting.”
“You?” I eyed him. “Parents? Siblings? What’s your story?”
He sucked his teeth. “Damn girl... All right, lemme see...my mother lives in Jamaica...I come up here when I was fifteen with my brother and sister. My dad been here long before us – he married a Canadian and started up an autoshop...brought all us kids here as soon as he could so we could finish school and alla dat... He was a very hard worker and I think he always regret leaving us behind so he did everything he could to provide for alla us once he could... But it wasn’t easy for us...y’know, leaving our mother…”
“Do you visit her?” I wanted to know.
He nodded. “My mother? Of course...often as I can. And she been here too but she won’t move. Cyan leave da rock...” He sighed. “So I name my restaurant in honour of my mother’s strong-willed nature. Stubborness. Whateva you wanna call it...”
I smiled. “I like that...” I thought. “So you three must be pretty tight, huh? Your brother and sister?”
He didn’t say anything right away. “Well...we used to...” Something in his voice had changed. “I mean, me and my sister still cool and ting but...that’s a story for a whole other time, Gabriela... You right. Family can be a bit of a tricky subject.”
I nodded slowly. The wine was starting to make
me feel warm all over. Or maybe it was the company. I couldn’t tell. “So how old are you, Ben?” I had tried to piece together his age from his bio on the website but I wasn’t sure.
He smiled. “How old you think I am?”
I stared him down for a moment or two. “Twenty-eight.”
He shook his head slowly and gave me a little thumbs up to indicate the number was higher.
“Thirty-one,” I tried again.
He shook his head again. “One more...”
“Hmmm...” I sighed. “You are older than me...”
He nodded. “I know.”
“How old you think I am?”
“Don’t have to guess,” he said. “You’re twenty-seven.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Wow. Impressive.”
“I know. Your facebook page is very informative.”
I laughed. “Oh right. My bad.”
“So you in the habit of stalking men online or am I the first?”
I shrugged innocently. “This is the age of technology. Who doesn’t google a guy before a date nowadays?”
“Ahh...so what you find out about me?”
I took another sip of my wine. “I found out that the camera is very good to you.”
He smiled that heart-stopping smile again. “What else?”
“Hmmm...” I thought for a moment. “Well, I found out that you have a very strong female fan-base. Most of the women that comment on your youtube page go on and on about how this sexy brother can come cook for me at home any day...bla bla...etcetera.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really?” He acted like he had no idea what I was talking about.
“Oh and this one girl started an online poll to see how many signatures it would take for you to do an episode butt-naked...” The wine was really taking its effect.
His eyes went wide. “Fuck...you serious?”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t know this...”
He leaned back in his seat again. “I don’t run the page.”
I still wasn’t buying it. “Whatever...”
“I’m serious,” he insisted. “My producer runs the page. And my camera-guy. But now that you telling me all this, maybe I should go check it out.”
Love Is Overdue Page 3