Afternoon Delight - By Mia Zachary Page 0,45
fork on the plate with an audible click.
“I’m sorry.” Chris reached over to touch her hand. “I’ve tried to maintain some kind of relationship with my dad over the years, but he hasn’t exactly been a model parent either. I guess that’s why I’m cautious about the sudden interest.”
“You have your mom though and I had my sofubo, my grandparents.” Rei smiled even as her heart squeezed in her chest from missing them so much. “My favorite, most precious childhood memories are of their cottage in Japantown.”
“Yeah? Tell me about them.”
“My mother would take me to have green tea and my grandmother’s tempura and rice balls. I spent hours running curious fingers over her silk screens and porcelain dolls. After lunch, my grandfather would help me to make origami cranes or take me to Lafayette Park to fly ezodaka paper kites.”
“It sounds like you had a great time with them, Rei.”
Her sofubo and the special times they’d shared, memories colored with tight hugs and plum candies and love, reminded her of what was happening this weekend. “Hey, Chris. Are you doing anything on Saturday?”
Friday, April 18th
Accomplishments: Get a makeover; Sing in public
SHE FELT like a fraud. Everyone else here tonight was genuinely looking to meet new people and hopefully discover that elusive chemistry, which might become a relationship. Since she was already involved with Chris, Rei hadn’t wanted to come to the Lunch Meetings mixer but she’d promised P.J. she would check out the event.
She hadn’t told Chris she was coming, hoping to surprise him. As she walked out of the cloakroom, Lara Voigt suddenly appeared at her shoulder. “Hi, welcome. This is your first mixer, right? Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people.”
“Oh, um, you don’t have to—”
“Don’t be shy. There are a lot of eligible bachelors at the party tonight, and everyone is just as nervous as you.”
In the main dining room, the usual tables and chairs had been replaced with food-laden buffets against the wall. Lara briefly explained how speed dating worked, then left Rei to her own devices. She joined the other people wandering from group to group, sharing rapid introductions and concise information about themselves, before moving on. By the sixth or seventh time she’d said, “Hi, Rei Davis. I’m a San Francisco native and I work for the court system,” her cheeks were sore from smiling politely.
Her next partner seemed more interested in a hook-up than a date. The good-looking, dark-haired man used his superior height to try and peer down her cleavage, then flashed her a pearly smile. “Hey, beautiful. Grant Bronson. I think you’re exactly who I’ve been looking for.”
Before she could retort, Rei suddenly felt Chris’s familiar and very welcome presence by her side.
“That’s too bad, because she’s been looking for me.” He slipped a proprietary arm around her waist and smiled down at her. “Hey, beautiful. You look incredible.”
Grant took a step back and raised his palms. “Sorry, man. I didn’t realize she was the one.”
“It’s cool. If you’ll excuse us?”
Chris’s voice was friendly enough, but Rei saw the cold look in his eyes and she was certain Grant had also. “Why don’t you just club me over the head and drag me into the nearest cave?”
“In that dress? Don’t tempt me.”
He led her around to the bar, where a number of people were chatting in groups or dancing to the club music the dj was spinning. Chris caught the bartender’s attention. “John, this is Rei. Whatever the lady wants is on the house, okay?”
“Sure thing, boss. What will you have, ma’am?”
Chris grinned at her. “Anything but tequila, right?”
She took a minute to scan her eyes over the vast display of bottles on the glass shelves behind the bar. “I think I’ll try a Skyy Blue martini, please.”
While John made her drink, Chris leaned against the gleaming brass rail and gave her a slow once-over. “Have I told you, you look absolutely amazing tonight?”
Rei pretended to pout at the compliment. “Only once.”
“Well, it bears repeating. I love what you did to your hair and I really love that dress.”
After work she’d gone to the Crocker Galleria near Union Square. At the pricey salon P.J. had recommended, after a lot of deep breaths and assurances from the stylist, she’d had six inches cut off her hair. It now had lots of layers and fell just to shoulder length. Her head felt lighter and she loved the way her hair swung when she moved, but it was strange not to feel