Page 12 of Simply Irresistible
“That’s hard to believe,” I said. “I thought my apartment was the smallest in New York.”
She laughed. “It’s close, but I’ve got you beat. My entire building was remodeled a couple years ago, and all the units were broken down into tiny apartments. I have enough room for a twin-sized bed, a recliner, and a desk. I have a small refrigerator and microwave, too, and a private bathroom. Each floor has shared spaces, and there are full kitchens there. I don’t use that too much, it’s a little…”
“Weird?” I finished for her.
She smiled. “Yeah. Definitely weird. I usually order take-out or pick up microwave dinners. Occasionally I’ll crave something homemade and use the kitchen, but I’ve got a few of my own pots, pans, and utensils. There’s only so far I’ll go with communal stuff and using pots and pans after a stranger is way beyond my comfort level.”
“You’re not friendly with your neighbors?” I asked as I flipped our steaks on the grill.
“I am,” she quickly answered. “It’s just that a couple of them don’t speak English, so aside from the occasional smile and wave in the hallway, we don’t really talk. And the other two units are short-term leases, I think, because people keep rotating through them.”
“There are a couple units on my floor like that, too. I think they might actually be used as Airbnbs.”
“Ah, maybe that’s what the ones in my building are, too.”
I pulled the steaks off the grill and set them on a plate to rest. Then I shut down the grill and started cleaning up. Melanie started to help me. “No, you’re my guest. Please, have a seat at the table. I’ll be right there.”
She smiled shyly and took her beer over to the table. The roof of my building had a pretty nice set up. There was a large grill, an outdoor stove, an outdoor dining set, and a firepit surrounded by comfortable outdoor chairs. I reserved the table for tonight, but anyone could come up and use the other amenities. Regardless, it was a quiet outdoor space in Manhattan, high above the busy streets. We could enjoy the warm summer evening semi-privately.
“Those smell and look delicious,” she said as I plated the steaks and put them on the table.
“Thank you.” I hadn’t ever cooked for a date before, so this was a first. In addition to the steaks, I grilled some zucchini and yellow squash; something else I’d never done before. I hoped I was doing a good job with this whole thing. I didn’t just want to impress Melanie, I wanted…I didn’t know what I wanted exactly. I just wantedmorewith her. I watched her cut into her steak and lift the fork to her lips. She put the meat in her mouth and chewed. Then she moaned, and I had to look away.
“Wow, this is so good. How did you learn to grill? You mentioned that you grew up in the city; there aren’t a lot of options here for people to grill.”
“My sister’s place had a patio area with a grill. Her husband showed me the basics, and I taught myself the rest.”
“That’s pretty cool. You’re really, really good at it.”
I ducked my head, not used to the praise. “Thank you. I enjoy it.”
She took another bite and moaned again. I wished she’d stop making that sound. “It’s a shame you want to be a journalist because you are so good at grilling.”
I laughed. “I have a split passion. My ideal position would be writing about food.”
“Like a critic?”
I shook my head and grimaced. “Oh man, no way. I would hate that job. Have people fear you and hate you, but fall at your feet anyway? That sounds terrible.”
“I bet it’s one hell of a power trip, though,” she laughed.
I nodded. “Probably.”
“So, what is it about food that you want to write about?”
She seemed to be genuinely interested, so I told her. “Ideally, I’d like to have a column about grilling or something like that. Maybe feature a different recipe or technique in each issue, or have a Q and A. I don’t know, the idea isn’t fully formed,” I said, feeling like an idiot for sharing a half-baked idea with her. She seemed so put together, and I felt like I was missing pieces.
“I think that’s a great idea.You’re the Mandoesn’t have anything like that and most men’s magazines have some kind of food feature.”
“Yeah, but I’d have to get it through Roger first.” And therein laid the problem.Roger. The cockblocker of dreams. I would have loved to be able to do a column right there atYou’re the Mansince I was familiar with the staff and the way the magazine was published. But I doubted Roger would ever see me as anything other than his assistant.
Melanie made a face, probably coming to the same conclusion as me. She was a smart girl. “Well, if you write anything like you cook, he wouldn’t be able to turn you down.”
She was good for my ego. “What about you?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable with all the talk being focused on me.
“What about me?”
“What are your grand plans for life afterLeading Lady?” Pink spread across her cheeks again; she didn’t like to be the center of attention either. She seemed to be weighing whether or not to answer me. I hoped she did.
