Love Is Overdue

by Natalie Myrie

  “Mmmhmm...if you say so,” I teased him. “So how many would it take?”

  “How many what?”

  “Signatures.”

  He thought for a moment. “Just one.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “But it wouldn’t be on youtube. It would have to be a private show,” he explained, that intense look taking over again.

  I was getting so warm now. I fanned my face lightly with my hand. “This wine is really tasty...”

  He smiled. “I can tell. So what you feel I should cook if I did?”

  “Hmm...good question.” I met his eyes. “Something sweet.”

  “I see...” He was thinking. “So what’s your favourite...something sweet?”

  I smiled. “That’s easy...”

  “Chocolate.” He knew. Of course he knew.

  “Yup...anything chocolate.”

  “Hmm...I guess I’ll have to give you something chocolate then...I’ll work on that.”

  I needed to change the subject before I got too carried away. “So how did the whole youtube thing start anyway?”

  “Well...” He sighed. “Long story.”

  I laughed. “That’s okay, it’s not midnight yet.”

  He smiled. “I was actually just hangin’ out with Lena – you know, from the restaurant – and she was watching one of those cooking shows on Food Network. I don’t remember which one but she kept goin’ on about how I could do that because I did a demo at the restaurant just before that for some students from my culinary school and they had filmed it – everyone kept sayin’ how am good on camera – so anyway we did some research on youtube and she convince her boyfriend, Patrick – he’s an independent film-maker - to shoot a demo to run on the website...and it just take off from there...”

  “How often do you shoot episodes?”

  “Depends. It’s a lot of prep work for me so...twice a month, sometimes three... We shooting one next weekend, if you want you can come check it out,” he offered casually.

  “Really?” I tried to contain my excitement. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way or anything – do you usually have an audience?”

  “Well...sometimes yes. Depends how many hungry people I got hangin’ around... But usually it’s just Lena, my camera-guy, my producer...sometimes I get someone from my kitchen staff to help with prep and clean up between takes and that kinda thing...” He paused, giving me another one of his looks. “I could put you to work if you want, though – am good at that.”

  I smiled. “I believe you – just as long as you leave me behind the camera, I’ll be fine.”

  He was studying me closely again. “I don’t know about that.”

  “What?”

  “I think you’d do pretty good in front of a camera.”

  I shook my head vehemently. “No way, I have terrible stage-fright.”

  Ben kind of laughed. “Can you cook?”

  I smiled. “Yes. That I can do.”

  “Good. I love a woman who can cook.”

  I eyed him suspiciously. “Somehow I would think that wouldn’t matter so much.”

  “Why?” He eyed me back. “I love food – you know this – so nothing could impress me more...”

  “Hmmm...” I was playing with the stem of my wine glass. He was watching me. “Well, maybe I will impress you one day.”

  He just kept watching me, giving me that intense gaze of his.

  “So what else impresses you?” I asked slowly. “In a woman?” I lifted my eyes to meet his.

  He leaned forward, propping his elbows onto the table and then reached out ever so gently and touched my fingers as I continued to twirl my wine glass. I stopped suddenly and let let him pull my hand closer as he glanced down and caressed it tenderly between his.

  “Pretty hands,” he said then, his fingers stroking each one of mine like he was polishing some fine china. “Soft skin,” he added, before finally looking up at me.

  The electricity between us was finally so thick I felt like I was about to catch on fire. I caught my breath. “That’s not a very long list...” I wanted to hear more. Desperately. This man was doing something to me I never even knew existed.

  He licked his lips – just slightly. I barely even caught it but I felt myself get wet. Just like that. He smiled again, squeezing my hand gently. “This all I got so far...” He gestured with his eyes down to our interlocking fingers. Then his eyes strayed back to my chest. “But that there has been impressin’ me all night long...”

  I picked up my glass with my free hand, guiding it gently to my lips as he watched. “So you’re a breast man,” I teased. I had to try to cut some of this heat between us before I lost it completely.

  He hesitated only for a moment. “Right now I am. ‘Cause you sittin’ down.”

  I laughed. “Hmmm...good answer. So it’s not too big for you then?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  He raised his eyebrows, looking a little taken aback by the question. “Too big?” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t even know what that means,” he added seriously. “Not in my vocabulary.”

  Shit. I loved how this man talked. “Damn...” I let my breath out. “You know just what to say, don’t you?”

  He didn’t say anything right away. “Well...” He was still playing with my fingers, sending electrical shock waves through my entire body. “It’s only the right thing when you got the right person to say it to.”

  Our waitress returned suddenly and distracted us for a moment, wanting to know if we were ready for another round. Ben ordered us some more drinks, all the while stroking and caressing my fingers without skipping a beat.

  “Hey, so can I ask you something?” He turned back to me as soon as our waitress was gone.

  I smiled. “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Who’s that dude in so many of your pics online?”

  I kind of laughed, flattered at his curiosity. I knew who he was talking about but I decided to ask anyway. “Which dude is that?”

  He smiled at me again. “That black dude you keep huggin’ up in all your pictures...”

  “Oh that’s just my boy, Tony,” I teased him. “We go way back.”

  He raised his eyebrows at me. “Oh yeah?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, since high school... We been best friends for forever but we’re always hot and cold too...whenever he’s chasin’ some new piece of ass he drops me like a dirty shirt for at least a couple months...” I shrugged. “Just the way it is, I guess. I still love him though.”

  Ben was giving me the strangest look.

  I eyed him, confused. “What?”

  “You lost me,” he admitted.

  I sighed. “Well, you know how it is...most girls are in the habit of ditchin’ their friends for a while whenever a new man pops into their lives – Tony’s no different.”

  He was still giving me that same horribly confused expression until something slowly started to dawn on him. “Whoa...hold up a minute -” He sat up a little further in his seat.

  I laughed. “What?” I was confused too until something started dawning on me as well and my eyes went wide. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t tell he’s gay!” I laughed again, covering my mouth with my hand. “Sorry, I just assumed...I mean, Tony’s just such a flamer, it didn’t dawn on me that anyone could think he was straight...”

  “Damn, girl...” Ben sucked his teeth and leaned back in his seat again, running his hand back over his head for a minute. But then he sighed. “You had me pretty scared there for a minute... Fuck.” He seemed to be debating the thought again. Then he eyed me closely. “So you sayin’ your best friend’s a dude – a black guy too – and he’s gay.” He repeated it.

  I sighed. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” I couldn’t hide my disappointment. Black guys – especially Caribbean guys – generally tended to run in the opposite direction, or at the very least, voice their grave “concerns” over the whole idea of my friendship with Tony.

  But Ben just sucked his
teeth at me again, shrugging it off. “No girl, relax...” He smiled at me. “I don’t got no problem with that,” he assured me. “Just because I’m a dread from da islands don’t necessarily mean am some ignorant, homophobic prick or anything…but I understand your concern,” he threw in, teasing me.

  I smiled. “I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s kinda been a deal-breaker for me in the past.”

  “How you mean?”

  “Well...in the past...when a guy I’m interested in finds out that instead of maybe the usual pain-in-the-ass best friend he’s typically used to dealing with in a relationship turns out to be a raging diva with a dick, they usually tend to run in the opposite direction,” I admitted.

  Ben laughed at that. “He really that bad?” he wondered, looking amused. “I thought he was your ‘boy’ – why you go talkin’ ‘bout him like that?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Because it’s the truth – and he knows it,” I admitted. “But he’s seeing someone now so he’s already kicked my ass to the curb again for the time being. Maybe I’m a little bitter.”

  Ben gave me a knowing glance. “It’s all good,” he said slowly, watching me. “More time for me.”

  My heart did a little flip. “So what about you?” I wondered then. “Do you have any deal-breakers I need to know about? Any dusty skeletons hanging out in your closet?”

  He let out a little laugh. “Damn, you not letting up on me tonight, are you?” He thought for a minute. “But to be honest with you...” He leaned forward slowly. “I may not be used to this whole dating game and everything but one thing I know...” He paused for effect and reached out and took my hand again. “Never – ever – let any skeletons out the very first night.” And then he pulled my hand up gently and gave my fingers a tender little kiss with those beautiful soft lips of his.

  I almost melted but I regained myself quickly and pulled my hand away playfully. “Not fair,” I protested. “I’ve already given you a few to ponder...”

  But Ben just sucked his teeth. “Gabriela, I ain’t heard – or seen – anything about you tonight that I can’t handle,” he said seriously. “You got nothin’ to worry about.”

  I smiled. “So tell me then,” I said softly. “If you’re so busy that you don’t even have time to sleep, how is it that you have time to be here right now...with me?”

  “Hmmm...” He eyed me again, looking to be debating whether or not to say what he was about to say. “Because when I want something as bad as I want you, there’s always enough time.”

  I sucked in my breath. “So you want me, huh?” My voice came out all slippery and sexy – I barely recognized it.

  He did that little barely noticeable lick of his lips as he stared me down. “Gabriela, I wanted you from the first day I saw you,” he admitted, without an apologetic hint in his tone whatsoever. “I already told you, remember?”

  I swallowed. “So what you want me for?”

  “Everything,” he said, without hesitation. “But we can start with friends…see what happens…”

  I had to snap out of it. This conversation was leading down a very dangerous road. And as bad as I wanted it, it was moving far too fast for me.

  “For someone who doesn’t date a lot, you really do seem to know all the right things to say,” I said again, downing the last of the wine in my glass.

  “Well, I don’t know...” He looked to be thinking about it seriously. “I don’t think you need to date a lot to notice something – or someone – you like when you see it.”

  I smiled at his observation. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

  He looked at me closely. “So I guess it’s fair to say that you’re feelin’ me too, right?”

  Damn, this man was so fine. His voice was giving me goosebumps.

  I nodded slowly. “I think that would be a fair assumption.”

  “Y’see? It’s simple,” he said then, picking up the new pint the waitress had just dropped off at our table. “Once you got chemistry, ain’t nothin’ else to worry about – whether you a serial dater or rusty as an old nail...” He gestured toward himself. “It all work out in the end.”

  I laughed. “You’re not rusty, Ben – you seem pretty well-oiled to me actually.” I picked up my wine and brought the glass to my lips. “In all aspects,” I added, suggestively.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Damn. You’re a flirt,” he stated simply. “I was wrong about you,” he teased me.

  I laughed again. “What? Me?”

  “Yeah, you. Here I was thinking you were such a shy, quiet girl...but you bold as shit. I like it.”

  I was still laughing. “No, not really. This is just the wine talking.”

  “Hmmm...well then I’m glad I decided to get you drunk tonight. This opens up another world of possibilities.”

  I stopped and eyed him suspiciously. “Oh you think so, huh?” I shook my head. “You may be smooth but I’m not that easy.”

  He smiled. “Well, good.” He didn’t seem bothered in the least. “Neither am I.”

  Chapter Three

  When we stepped out of the pub about an hour a half later, I started to get anxious about what was next. I didn’t want the night to end but it was already late, and I was pretty buzzed, and there was no way I could trust myself to say no if he asked me to go home with him. I wanted him so badly it was almost unreal. Every part of me was aching and reacting to him – every look, every touch, every brush of his arm or his leg...the flip of my stomach as held the door for me and I caught another erotic whiff of that Armani cologne...

  “So how you feeling?” he asked as we stepped away from the door and into the warm, yet damp breezy night. The streets of Gastown were still abuzz with people, the night clubs were still hopping.

  I took a breath. I was tipsy and horny and there was only one possible cure – aside from the obvious. “Hungry,” I answered simply.

  “So you wanna go get something to eat?” he asked, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

  I smiled at the prospect of our date continuing. “Sure – where?” I glanced around to see what our best options were. It was nearly one am, so I knew they would be limited.

  Ben thought too, looking around with me, but then just sucked his teeth. “I don’t know, girl...only thing open right now is pizza by the slice...”

  “Hmmm...” That was disappointing. We would have to eat out in the street if we went that route.

  “I got a better idea, though.” He looked at me. “You down?”

  I kind of laughed. “How can I be down if I don’t know what it is?”

  He smiled at me. “Trust me.”

  And for some reason, there was not even a question in my mind.

  Ben hailed a cab for us and only once we got inside and he gave our driver the address did I figure out his mysterious plan.

  “Your restaurant?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously. “Aren’t you closed too?”

  “Yeah, but I have a key.”

  About ten minutes later our cab pulled up in front of the restaurant on Commercial Drive. He paid the driver and we stepped out in front of the building. I waited as Ben unlocked the front door and disarmed the alarm before entering with him.

  This time the restaurant truly was deserted. Ben hit the lights and I followed him inside slowly, studying my surroundings in a way that I wasn’t able to do during my regular visits. I focused my attention on all the black and white photographs I had previously only glanced at in passing.

  I stopped in front of my favourite one – the outdoor fruit market and what looked like a little tiki hut. There was an older woman selling fruit and a teenaged boy and a few other little kids standing nearby, one on a bicycle and another clutching a soccer ball. It was such a beautifully candid shot, so expertly photographed. But my eyes were suddenly focused in on the teenager leaning against the counter.

  “Whoa – Ben,” I called him over. “That’s you,” I said, pointing.

  He came up behind me and looked at where I was po
inting. “Nope,” he said simply. “That’s me.” Instead he pointed to the younger boy on the bicycle.

  “Oh,” I said, surprised. “Really?” I studied the photograph again, finding it hard to believe. “‘Cause he looks just like you.” I motioned to the teenager again.

  “I know,” he said. “That’s my brother – we look a lot alike. And that’s my grandmother.” He pointed to the woman behind the counter.

  I stared at the photograph again closely. “It’s beautiful,” I said then. “They all are. Are these all your own personal photographs?” I wondered, even more impressed, as I turned to him.

  He shook his head. “No, my mother’s,” he said. “That’s why she’s not in any of the shots.”

  “Wow...” I moved to glance over at a few more. “She’s so talented...”

  I stopped at the shot of the children playing soccer. “Okay, that’s you,” I pointed, this time certain of it.

  He smiled. “Yeah, you redeemed yourself,” he told me.

  “You still play?”

  He shrugged, looking at the photograph again. “A little...it was never as much my thing,” he admitted. “My brother was the athlete, I was more the geeky kid that liked to hang out with my grandmother and fry fish.” He kind of laughed.

  I eyed him then, suspiciously. By the looks of his body there didn’t seem to be anything nonathletic about him. “Mmmhmm...if you say so,” I teased him. “So if that’s the case then how do you...” My voice trailed off and I just finished my sentence by giving him a suggestive up and down glance with my eyes.

  That made him laugh. “What are you talking about?”

  I sighed, still feeling the wine. “You know...”

  He shook his head, confused but amused at the same time. “What the hell are you talking about, girl? Or are you just drunk?”

  “I am a little tipsy,” I admitted. “But what I mean is...” I took a breath. “How do you keep such a banging body if you don’t work out?”

  He raised his eyebrows at me. “I never said I didn’t work out...you like my body?”

  Fuck, he was turning me on all over again.

  I laughed. “Nah...I’m more into the skinny, nerdy type you profess to be but...for some reason I still confused you with your brother.”