Camy Tang - Sushi for One?

“Something besides a receptionist position that pays less than nothing.”

“You’re thinking too negatively. I’ll be surrounded by sports all day. I’ll be in Nirvana.”

“While answering phones and talking to stupid people?”

Richard knew her too well. “Maybe I can get promoted or transferred. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could work there. They hardly ever hire new blood, and I don’t have the skill set, but here’s my chance.”

Richard glanced at the rebooted computer. “You wanted a real-estate agent? You can’t move out if you’re working for minimum wage. Not in the Bay Area, anyway.”

True… “But I have some saved up. If I live a few more months with Dad, I’ll have enough for a down payment. And I’ll rent out a room – lots of people do.”

“I know a real-estate agent.”

“Oh?”

Richard flashed that famous grin, the one that made women flock to him like cats to an ahi steak. “He’s your type too.”

“No th – ” The disgusted refusal came automatically, but then Lex remembered what had changed in her crazy life. Namely, Grandma’s claws. “Well… okay.”

Richard’s eyebrows disappeared under his four-hundred-dollar sculpted haircut. “Really?”

Hastily, “Well, I don’t have any other recommendations.”

His eyes narrowed, and a smirk made his dimples flash. “For a real-estate agent, or a date?”

“Shut up.”

Richard smiled.

George had a face like an Asian Backstreet Boy – clean-cut, good-looking, with that indefinable sparkle-charm. A hint of sexy.

“Nice to meet you.” Lex dropped his hand like a hot cup of tea, opening and closing her fingers. She still couldn’t get used to even professional touches by strange men.

He didn’t get the hint. His other hand landed on her shoulder -meant to be a reassuring gesture, but she became as skittish as a racehorse. Get your hand off me.

“I’ve got some great condos that you’ll fall in love with.” George finally dropped his arm when Lex took a giant step back.

“Let’s go see them.”

“I’ll drive.” He gestured with pride to his gleaming Lexus SUV.

“I’ll follow you in my car.”

As she looked at condos, Lex felt like Goldilocks, except without little Junior Bear to lend her his chair and porridge and bed.

The first condo was too far away – not from her current workplace, but if she got the job at SPZ, it would be more than an hour’s drive.

The second place had an astronomical price tag – not too bad on her current salary, but it would take 130 percent of a minimum-wage paycheck. And Lex would have a hard time hiding her potential job switcheroo plans, at least until the loan application came through.

The third house was a dump labeled as a “fixer-upper” -affordable on a receptionist’s salary, but she’d be eating ramen noodles every day for a couple years. Plus, it had that ratty air of a place that would start to fall apart as soon as she breathed her first sigh as the legitimate owner.

“Well, that’s all I have for today.” George walked her out to her rusted bucket, looking forlorn next to his hulking Lexus.

“Thanks, George. I appreciate you taking me to these places.” Even though I can’t afford most of these houses if I quit, but if I tell you I’m going to quit, you and the loan officer are going to abandon me faster than a smoking Pinto.

“Are you going home now?” George leaned against her car frame. Her Honda gave a sighing creak.

Weird question for an agent. “Uh… yeah.”

“I wondered if you’d like to go out to dinner with me tonight.”

Whoa, momma! Did he just ask for a real date? He didn’t go the safer, less committed “Give me your email address” route that most engineers in Silicon Valley took. Not even the Starbucks coffee-hour option. Full-blown dinner. You landed yourself a winner, toots.

She should have hurled herself in his arms. Instead, she hesitated. Dark memories wove on the edges of her mind. Her gut clenched for only a moment, then released.

No, you’re bigger than that. You can do this. The volleyball girls needed her. Grandma wouldn’t win.

“I’d love dinner, George. Where?”

Thank goodness for the casual California dress code. Lex entered Crustaceans Restaurant in Santana Row and knew her simple cotton skirt wouldn’t look out of place. Some diners were dressed up, but others wore jeans.

She actually felt kind of special being seated with such a good-looking guy. Except that George also noticed the appreciative feminine glances he collected.

“Do you know those girls?” Lex nodded at the scantily-clad gigglers who were batting their eyelashes from a couple tables away.

George whipped his attention back to Lex. “Uh… no.” He flashed that bright, warm smile. Lex would have felt enveloped by it if she hadn’t seen the girls over his shoulder still ogling him. Look all you want, girlies. He’s with me.

He seemed to welcome the attraction, which didn’t bode well for item number five on her Ephesians List – the whole faithfulness issue. Well, she had all dinner to weigh him against the List.

Lex skimmed the menu, but she knew what she wanted to eat. Same thing she always got.

George glanced up at her. “Want to split a crab wonton appetizer?”

“Sure. Good choice.” To add to the List: Must enjoy good food as much as me.

The waitress appeared at the table like a genie, and dressed like one too, in a gauzy jewel-toned Vietnamese dress. “Do you know what you’d like to order?” Her bell-like voice tinkled.

George’s eyes didn’t immediately raise from his menu to the waitress’s face – he took a rather slow journey over her slender curves. Lex’s jaw flexed. That was strike two on the faithfulness point of the List. This might be a short date.

“We’ll share the crab wontons. I’ll have a Caesar salad and the garlic-roasted crab with garlic noodles.”

At least he had good taste in food. “I’ll have the same.” Lex handed the oversized menu to the waitress.

George leaned forward. “You work at Pear Technologies?”

She winced. So not her favorite topic. “Yeah.”

“How do you like working there?”

“Um…” Her boss was Captain Hook, her coworkers were nuttier than the seven dwarves, and she was worked harder than the Israelite slaves in Egypt. Not the most P.C. answer. “It’s okay.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Actually, it felt more like the embarrassed quiet that hushed a restaurant when someone dropped a platter full of dishes onto the floor.

“So, Lex, have you read the bestseller by that Asian author who goes by the pseudonym Mr. Roboto?”

Lex blinked. He was kidding, right? “Uh… I don’t think Mr.

Roboto is Asian.”

“What do you mean? Of course he must be Asian. That famous song was Chinese or something.”

She stared at him so hard, her eyes crossed. He was a complete idiot. “ ‘Domo arigato’ is Japanese, and that song was by Styx.”

George gave her a Well, duh look. “And they did that ‘Sukiyaki’ song too.”

“What?” Wasn’t ‘Sukiyaki’ by Taste of Honey or something like that?

He sat back, his eyes heavy-lidded. “You didn’t know that? I thought you would, being Asian and all.” He smiled. All that was missing was a condescending pat on her head.

Her gaze narrowed. Was it really possible for him to be such a blockhead?

Here in the Bay Area, hardly anyone brought up her Asian-ness -it would be like living in Dallas and commenting on someone’s Texas drawl. A part of her was in shock at how he’d been both insulting and idiotic, while her hand itched to smack that condescending smirk off his face.