Camy Tang - Sushi for One?

Control yourself, babe. You’re in Crustaceans and you’re about to have a fabulous free meal. Remember the free part. She managed a strained smile. “You’re so multicultural.” Oh, gag me. “What’s your ethnic background?”

“Oh, I’m an American citizen. I grew up in San Jose…”

To add to the List: No ignorant ethnic remarks. Wasn’t that already in Ephesians somewhere?

While he spouted off on his childhood, her mind wandered.

Maybe she should have politely shut him down instead of appeasing him. This date had already started downhill. Why waste her whole evening?

The burning question: Is the garlic crab that important to you? She hadn’t had it in three months. Ninety-seven days, to be exact. And George was paying. Decisions, decisions…

“You know, you remind me of someone.” He squinted at her. Problem was, he squinted quite a bit below her chin.

Lex sensed another goober remark up ahead.

George snapped his fingers. “I know. You remind me of my ex-girlfriend.”

Hadn’t anyone told him that mentioning ex-girlfriends while on a date was like begging to have his car keyed?

“Yeah, you look exactly like her… except she was cuter – er, younger.”

Younger? She was only thirty!

“And she had a different body.” He sketched an impossible hourglass in midair – something like a 42 – 12 – 42. “And she had a larger caboose.”

The room darkened. A blood-red haze blurred his face in her vision. “That’s a little too personal.”

He waved a hand. “Oh, I don’t mind talking about it.”

“Well, I do.” You cretin. She could barely spit the words past her gritted teeth.

Oblivious to the gathering storm, George leaned forward. “But today’s technology is so great.”

She spoke as slow and measured as a speech therapist. “And-what-is-that-supposed-to-mean?”

“Well, you know… plastic surgery. It can help… people… look so much better.”

She couldn’t speak. Her vocal cords weren’t responding.

The moron kept talking. “You can get surgery for cheap. If you go to Mexico, you can get it for half the price as the U.S.” He beamed at her in friendliness mingled with pity.

She wondered how she could dispose of his body.

George was begging to get decked. With a two-by-four. Or maybe the aluminum baseball bat Lex kept in her car trunk. She’d forgotten to include on the List: Must never mention body parts, or else risk decapitation. They hadn’t even gotten their appetizers yet. He’d ruined her entire evening and she wouldn’t get dinner.

She was starving. She wanted crab.

No, she would walk out on him, breathe fresh air, clear her head, shake the dust from her shoes.

Or she could endure the evening and stick him with the bill. This place didn’t exactly have McDonalds’ prices.

Escape or revenge?

Freedom or suffering?

Peanut butter sandwiches or garlic roasted crab?

A steaming plate appeared in front of Lex – the crab wontons, nestled in a lettuce leaf. Blond deep-fried dumplings.

Maybe she’d walk out without braining George…

Another waiter swept past their table holding two platters of Crustaceans’ signature entrée. Rich, briny crab. Nutty brown butter. Lex’s stomach growled. “Let’s just finish dinner.” Granted, it came out sounding a bit strangled.

George smiled and tucked his napkin into his shirt collar.

Lex paused as she settled her napkin in her lap.

Her look must have clued him in, because he stiffened his shoulders. “This shirt cost me three hundred dollars and the tie is Ermene-gildo Zegna. I’m not getting it dirty. Do you know how much good dry-cleaning costs?”

Why was she surprised by anything that came out of his mouth by now? Just eat and leave.

As Lex pierced a wonton with her fork, its bubbled surface flaked pastry onto the stainless steel tines. She brought it to her mouth. The outer shell crunched against her teeth while the satiny, cheesy filling melted on her tongue. A ribbon of sweetness from the fresh crab lingered in her mouth.

Aaaaaahhhhhh…

George bit into a wonton with relish. “I had a girlfriend who could make these.”

Lex bit her tongue. The pain made her start and drop her fork with a clatter against the porcelain plate.

Her next wonton didn’t taste so divine.

He looked like he would expound on his master-chef-ex-girlfriend as soon as he finished chewing. She needed a tangent. “Do you cook?”

“I make a jambalaya that women swoon over…”

Could the man ever say something that didn’t involve other females? Lex listened with half an ear to his masterful feats of culinary genius. At least getting their food meant that he didn’t talk as much.

The Caesar salad arrived, aromatic with garlic, studded with caramel-colored anchovies. The crisp lettuce popped in her mouth with freshness. The perfect balance for the wontons, and a way to ready her palate for the crab to come. The dressing sizzled with hot pepper, tangy vinegar, creamy mayo, and bright lemons.

George cut into an anchovy. “Salads are a great way to lose weight.”

That was random. “Um-hm.” Just keep chewing, Georgy-boy, so I don’t have to listen to you.

“But you need exercise too. Increase muscle mass, increase metabolism.”

Where was he going with this? Lex cleared her throat. “How often do you work out?”

“Three times a week minimum, but I try to make it more often.”

Lex did a discreet appraisal. Not a powerhouse, but not flabby. He probably only made it to the gym twice a week on average. She sighed. She and George didn’t even have athleticism in common, because she worked out much more than he did. “Do you play sports?”

George swallowed a bite. “I’m taking kickboxing right now. You should try it, it’s fun.”

On the volleyball court, she didn’t mind getting bruises and floor burns on her body, but blows to the head wigged her out. Kickboxing? No, thank you. “Mm-hm.”

“It’s great exercise. You’d tone your body a bit.”

Uneasiness and suspicion caused a prickling at the back of her eyeballs and a humming along her jaw. “What do you mean?”

His handsome smile could charm the knife away from a serial killer. “You’d fit your clothes better and feel great about yourself.”

What?

Sure, she didn’t have curves, but she never thought she looked out of shape. She glanced down. Her tucked-in blouse ballooned out from her skirt waistband. She thought the loose top would hide her flat chest while the pleated skirt would give her hips, but maybe it gave another illusion entirely. Did he actually think she looked fat?

Lex didn’t say anything for a long time. A weird emotionless feeling had descended on her. She blinked, wondering what her reaction should be.

Gee, I ran five miles yesterday, and the day before that, I did lateral movement drills on a sand volleyball court. Not enough toning?

You know, I didn’t care much for sparring sports, but you’re making me rethink that.

My life has been completely changed by your sensitive insight into my weight and self-esteem.

The waitress saved him. Maybe she had a premonition of George’s imminent demise and swept in to rescue him. She removed the salad plates and presented the garlic roasted crab with a flourish.

Hot, pungent aromas steamed Lex’s face as she leaned over the plate for a long, ecstatic breath. An exotic mix of spices melded with the warm richness of browned butter. Only a whiff of brine. The shells had a warm, healthy sunset color. Her mouth watered.

She lifted the top shell and inhaled a sweet tang of the sea. She picked out a forkful of feathery meat and took a bite.

She magnanimously forgave George for everything. Because of him, she sat here in pure bliss.