Page 4 of Ocean's Lost Octopus
Plus, this place came with a flight of sauces. It was funny…they did everything they could to make their chicken tenders feel grown-up. Who needed a flight of sauces? But also, there we were, coming to embrace our little side. It was amusing.
“So, real talk, what’s going on?” Barnes set his menu down.
“I don’t know. Just feeling like I need to find someone again.” It was the first time I’d voiced it out loud, and it felt great getting it off of my chest.
“Exactly how long have I been telling you that?” He stuck his tongue out. At work, he, like me, was very businesslike and, seeing him in his suit, letting his playful side out was a nice change.
“Since a week after Daddy left?” He’d been relentless and, while it could be annoying, it was also what I needed to hear at the time and even now. It meant someone saw my future as brighter than the cesspool it felt like I was living in.
“Bingo. Just put yourself out there and don’t be so picky. Speaking of which, why are you so picky? It’s okay to just have fun.”
In theory, that was true, but it wasn’t something I’d ever felt comfortable doing.
“I’m picky because… I don’t know. I just…”
“There’s a fundraiser tonight at Chained. You could go hang out there.”
And before I could answer, the server came for our order, which was good. I needed the time to think about it instead of snapping back the first thing that came to mind, which always tended to be a no.
“Are you going?”
“I’m not getting enough sleep.” Meaning, his daddy wouldn’t let him.
I bit my tongue. Everybody had the relationships they wanted, and this was what he wanted. It didn’t matter that it wouldn’t work for me. If I only had relationships that worked for other people, I wouldn’t have been alone my entire life.
“Well, maybe next time.”
“Yeah, maybe next time.”
We said that a lot, but neither of us went to the club very often, and when we did, it was rarely together.
“You should still go, though,” he said.
“I’ll go.” And once I said it, I started to look forward to it. Go Barnes, for having the best ideas. Or at least not a horrible one.
We had our chicken fingers. I went back to work, where I got stuck in contract heck and barely made it out in time to get to the fundraiser. So much for being little tonight. I was going to be Businessman Ocean because it was better to be there than to go home and wonder if maybe tonight was the night I would finally meet my daddy.
Chapter Four
Duncan
When the driver pulled up to the delivery entrance of Chained, it felt odd. In the past, I’d parked in the members’ area or on the street, but tonight my role was different. And I wasn’t sure I understood why this was even happening.
Chained was my second home. The club where I came when the rest of the world didn’t understand. The one expense I would not consider giving up even to cover the rent increase. Truly, I’d have moved to one of the less appealing units in order to keep this haven in my life.
“There you are!” Ms. Lily appeared in the doorway. “I was getting worried.”
I glanced at my watch to be sure. We were on time, but I didn’t want to correct Ms. Lily. She had a lot of responsibility for the event and would want to know everything was in order. “Sorry to make you worry. Everything is here and ready.”
She smiled. “I’m sure it’s wonderful. Our staff will unload for you.”
I had half expected this, since my employee was not a member and wouldn’t be allowed in past the service area. The driver opened the rear, and two young women wearing white aprons with the Chained logo over the left breast came out with a cart. Our appetizers were on long trays wrapped in several layers of plastic, and they slid them out and trundled the cart back inside.
“It all looks divine.” Ms. Lily had stuck around, and when I came to shake her hand before leaving, she kept hold of mine. “I knew we were right in asking you to handle this for us. It’s such a special event.”
It was on my lips to ask why they outsourced when they had such wonderful food and so many appetizers on the menu, but then I didn’t. Our pastry chef prepared these tiny, two-bite delights that had earned us a mention not only in the local newspaper, but he and I had been invited on the local morning news once. And he was sharing the recipe with nobody. Even if he had, his touch was an element that could not be replicated. “We appreciate being invited. The owner wanted me to tell you that he’s giving the club a discount over the quoted price because it’s for a fundraiser.”
“How kind. He’s not one of us, is he?”
