Must Love Sandwiches (13 page)

“Brad.”

Behind her the familiar name cut through the buzz of dozens of conversations, all overlapping to create the familiar background noise that was often a part of her evening decompression ritual. Most of the patrons in the bar were other chefs or restaurant workers. It was like a food service family reunion every evening when the restaurants closed. Was somebody talking about her Brad? Beth glanced over her shoulder. Josh Courier sat at a small, round table crammed with his sous chef and other cronies. Brad was nowhere in sight, but everybody in the group knew him. They had to be talking about him. So what was old Blue Eyes up to these days?

She tossed some money on the bar and picked up her mug with her left hand. It felt awkward, but messing with the boys required concentration. She didn’t need to irritate the burn more and let it throw her off. She plastered on a smile and sauntered over to Josh’s table. “Hey, Josh. Did I hear you mention Brad? How’s he doing? I haven’t seen him since he canned my ass and threw me to the wolves.” It hadn’t been enough for Brad to just break up with her. He kicked her out of his apartment and out the pastry chef position at his bistro. It was like being stabbed and then having the knife twisted in the wound. Torture.

Josh’s Adam’s apple bounced up and down before he answered. “Beth. What a surprise. I just mentioned that Brad came into my restaurant tonight, but I didn’t really get a chance to talk with him much.”

What a polite candy-ass. How did someone that nice run a restaurant without being trampled by his staff? “That’s nice.” She stepped closer to the little group of merry men. Her breast brushed the knot of dark hair coiled on top of the nearest man’s head. He leaned forward and grabbed a handful of peanuts from the bowl in the middle of the table. Then he stayed in the same position, slumped forward and sagging. Was she making him uncomfortable?
Good
. “Who was he with?”

“I didn’t say he was with anybody.”

She sucked in a long breath and stared into Josh’s eyes. He flinched and looked away. Prince Charming must’ve been on a date. “Stop screwing around with me. Who was he with?” She slammed her hip into topknot guy’s chair. He gasped when the edge of the table rammed his stomach. She slid to the left and positioned herself behind the next man at the table. Dark sweat stains radiated from the neck of his gray t-shirt. He tapped his fingers on the table. A tribal drummer sending out a call for help. There was only one more guy between her and Josh. He had better start answering her questions.

Josh tilted his head from side to side. She could hear his joints and muscles popping above the blaring televisions and boisterous voices. He swallowed again. Hopefully he was putting some serious thought into the repercussions of lying to her. Finally he decided to answer. “He was with a recipe development consultant.”

Ooh, la, la. A consultant. He didn’t even own a restaurant anymore, just that stupid food truck. Why would he need a consultant for food served in take-out containers? “Right. A consultant. Anybody I know?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never seen her before.”

“Was she pretty?” Beth kept her gaze focused on Josh, but she could feel the rest of the men clustered around him shift position. She glanced down. Everyone was staring at Josh now. He was in the dragon’s den and they all knew it. Sweat snaked down the side of his face. The little trails glimmered in the red light cast by a neon beer sign hanging on the wall nearby. “Well? Answer me.”

“Not as pretty as you are.”

The slimy, little eel was trying to wiggle out of the truth by using flattery. The tactic would work on most women. They’d believe whatever the blonde-haired Wonder Boy said, as long as he flashed his dazzling smile. The Bartonville Times had named him one of the city’s most eligible bachelor’s over the summer. He was probably making a fortune from all of the chef groupies that invaded his restaurant for a Girl’s Night Out and chance to see him.

“You think I’m pretty? That’s so sweet.” She drained her beer and slammed the empty mug on the table in front of Josh. It looked like Brad had moved on, maybe it was time for her to do the same. Going back to her crap hole, basement apartment alone every night was getting old. She slipped a crumpled receipt out of her purse and scribbled her address on the back of it. As she handed the paper to Josh she said, “I live a few blocks away. Why don’t you stop in after you’re done here? I’ll make you the signature drink I helped create for B-Street Cafe.” As she passed by she leaned down, licked his ear and whispered, “I guarantee it’ll blow your mind.”

Artistic Escape

Margie closed the battered paperback and tossed it toward the foot of the bed. The book skidded across the slick fabric and came to a stop near her feet. When she was a little girl the picture of a red, satin bedspread adorning a four-poster bed in the Sears catalog made her heart flutter with happiness. She was far from that innocent child now, but at least she finally had the beautiful bedspread.

The man on the cover of the erotic romance caught her attention. He had tribal tattoos tracing over his bulging arm muscles. A typical image for that kind of book. However, the man’s face wasn’t right. She had imagined him with sharp, chiseled features instead of soft, bulldog puppy jowls. The publisher must not have paid attention to the author’s description of her main character. They did a crappy job of picking the cover model. She leaned back on the mound of pillows propped behind her and closed her eyes. Yes. She could definitely see what he should look like.

She went to her closet. The rickety folding slat door had long ago fallen off. Her stash of clothes bulged out of the opening. Sequin-encrusted camisoles competed with fake leather mini skirts for space. She stretched to reach the sketchbook hidden under a pile of jeans on the top shelf. Had Emma ever found her drawings? When she was in her teens her daughter used to snitch some of her romance books, replacing them a few days later in one of the many stacks tottering in the corners of the bedroom. But her daughter probably never even looked twice at her closet. The clothes weren’t sophisticated enough for Emma, even when she was sixteen. “I don’t want the kind of guy your clothes attract,” she had said once.

Margie settled back onto the bed. The satin was as slick as ice. She pulled a pencil out of the nightstand’s drawer and paged through the large book. It was filled with sketches she had made of naked men. All of them were based on characters in her beloved romance books. They were always smoking hot and always naked in her drawings. If there was one thing she knew, it was male anatomy. The guys she saw naked in real life looked nothing like her drawings, but with a little plastic surgery from her pencil she could keep Chuck Harrington’s muscled forearms and replace his beer gut with a six-pack. Voila. Marcus Slater, the vampire assassin, would be reborn on the blank page. As she started sketching the outline of Marcus’ body her cell phone began to ring. It was almost 3 a.m. She didn’t look at the name on her phone’s display before she answered. She liked to be surprised.

“Margie. Baby. It’s Alex.”

Alex had been hired as the bar’s night cook a few months earlier. She worked with him almost every night. While she doled out watered-down drinks he made the greasy, salty snacks that kept the customers thirsty. Often she had to wipe grease off her fingers when she handled the plates full of corn chips swimming in orange fat and covered with gooey, canned nacho cheese. She had been surprised when they went out and he cooked dinner for her. The thought of the fajitas with juicy sirloin strips and his spicy homemade salsa made her mouth water, but he wasn’t calling to offer to make dinner for her again. “Hi, Alex. What do you need?”

“You.”

At least he got to the point quickly, instead of rambling on and wasting her time. “Sorry, hun. I just don’t feel like it tonight.” She held the phone away from her ear. It was quite a blow to a drunken man’s ego to get turned down by a slut.

“Are you sure? I’ll make you pancakes and bacon tomorrow morning.”

Sweet, but no dice. He got extra points for not yelling, but even fluffy pancakes weren’t going to lure her away from the satin nest and drawing date with her imaginary lover. “Thanks, but no thanks. Maybe some other time…” The line went dead. At least Alex didn’t know where she lived, so she didn’t have to worry about him showing up. A few years earlier she had to move across town to stop the parade of horny men who showed up at her door at all hours. Her neighbors thought she was running a brothel and she got tired of the drama if she didn’t let them in. Once she got settled into the new trailer house she didn’t let any of her dates know her address.

Her pencil lead scratched on the textured paper. She roughed in rippled thigh muscles, a dark, swirling tattoo and square jawline. That was much better than the book’s cover. Her high school art teacher had turned her onto sketching by letting her borrow the drawing instruction books he kept in the classroom. Reading and drawing had always been her escapes, ways to get away from the stinkiness of her real life. She bought her clothes from discount stores and clearance racks, but she always scraped together enough money to buy a nice sketchbook from a real art supply store. She filled the books with perfect men, then hid them in the back of her closet. A pile of cherished memories pulled from fiction, instead of real life. She dragged her thumb along a thick line to soften it. Emma could barely stand being in the same room with her anymore. What would her daughter think of these drawings? How freaked out would she be to find out her artistic talent was inherited from her mother?

Brad's Deconstructed Guacamole Sandwich

Basic Sandwich:

4 slices of sturdy sandwich bread

1 avocado

Garlic or onion powder, optional but highly recommended

Salt

Lime wedge, optional

Toppings (add as many as you like):

Tomato - sliced or diced

Red Onion - minced or thinly sliced

Green Onion - thinly sliced

Jalapeno Slices (fresh or pickled)

Hot Sauce

Salsa or Pico de Gallo

Toast bread. While it’s toasting scoop out the flesh in both halves of the avocado. Place into a bowl and sprinkle with lime juice and onion or garlic powder, if using. Mash with a fork. When toast is done, divide the mashed avocado between two slices. Add desired toppings. Sprinkle with salt and top with other slices of toast.
Makes 2 sandwiches.

Daisy's Budget Friendly Pasta

1 pint of grape or cherry tomatoes

1/3 cup pitted olives (black or green), coarsely chopped

1 tbs. capers

1 handful of flat leaf parsley (or basil) leaves, roughly chopped

Garlic powder, optional (adds subtle garlic flavor)

16 oz. penne pasta

Salt & pepper

1 tbs. olive oil

Red pepper flakes, optional

Grated Parmesan cheese, optional

Quarter tomatoes and put into a large bowl. Add olives, capers and garlic powder (if using). Season with salt and pepper. Stir to combine. Let sit while cooking the pasta according to the directions on the package. When the pasta is done, drain and dump it on top of the tomato mixture. Drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with parsley and toss together. Add more salt and pepper, if needed. Serve with Parmesan and pepper flakes, if desired.
Serves 2 to 4 people.

Brad's Rustic Tomato Soup

1 small onion, chopped

Butter or oil for sauteing

1/2 tsp. dried Italian or other salt-free herb blend

1 - 14.5 oz. can fire-roasted tomatoes, undrained

1/2 cup reduced-sodium beef broth

1/2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

Pinch of sugar

1 tsp. smoky barbecue sauce

Aleppo or red pepper flakes (optional), to taste

In a medium saucepan saute onion in a bit of butter or oil, over medium heat, until softened. Sprinkle with dried herbs, salt and pepper while cooking. When the onion is softened put it into a blender or food processor along with the tomatoes and broth. Pulse until almost smooth, but a few chunks still remain. Return tomato mixture to saucepan and add the rest of the ingredients. Heat to a boil and then reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. This is great served with a grilled cheese sandwich.
Makes 2 servings.

About The Bartonville Series

Sometimes all you need is one or two bites to satisfy a craving.

That is the principle behind The Bartonville Series. We're all busy. Settling down and spending hours reading a nice, long novel is appealing, but how often do you get to do that? With that thought in mind I am creating a women's fiction series where each book will contain stories of different lengths with companion recipes. There will be flash fiction stories that can be read during a coffee break, novellas that can be devoured over an evening and everything in between, like short stories and novelettes.