Tales From a Broad (14 page)

“What?” Simon looked at me and chuckled.

“Nothing,” I shrugged. “You’re just
funny.”

“You don’t think I’d make a good
sommelier
?”

I raised my eyebrows in response as he took
a sip of the wine.

“That’s dreadful.” Simon spat.

“Oh, come on. Or are you still in character?
I find it hard to believe you’re a wine snob.”

“First of all, I take offense to that. But
I’m actually not. You’ve got to try this.” Simon offered his glass
to me.

“How could I resist with an intro like
that?” I took a generous sip and nearly choked as it hit the back
of my throat. “Oh my God. It tastes...” I forced myself to swallow.
“Like—”

“Ass,” Simon finished.

“Yes.” I groaned, after managing to swallow.
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“Look at that. We’re already finishing each
other’s sentences.”

I placed my glass on the black wrought iron
table and watched Simon lean against the railing.

“This figures,” he said and tossed his hands
in the air. “Just when I get you to have a drink with me, I bring
over the crap wine.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and made
a face.

“Please. I was about to open my own bottle
of crap wine. So...” I paused. Now that I had company, I was in no
rush to part ways. “What’s our plan B?”

“How about we take our show on the road?
Maybe ... a dinner cruise on the Seine?”

“Talk about one extreme to another!
Nah
.” I wrinkled my nose. “Too touristy.”

Simon took his hand and wiped it across his
forehead. “Whew.”

“Well, then why did you ask me?” I leaned
against the railing next to him and folded my arms across my
chest.

“I just thought that ... well, maybe it
would be up your alley.”

“Yeah, maybe back in the day, like oh, you
know ... about a week ago when I played it safe. But now that I’ve
lived in a commune, ridden the Euro Rail, and picked grapes with
the locals, I think I’d like to try something a bit more ...
authentic.”

“Like steak and
pommes frites
?”

“Mmm, yes.” I licked my lips. “Can you just
give me a minute?” I looked down at my wrinkled tank top and
leggings. “I feel so...”

“Gorgeous?”

I figured he was kidding, but the look on
his face was anything but.

“No.” I stepped back into the room and
turned around to face him on the balcony. “I was going to say that
I look like a hot mess.”

“Nope,” Simon shook his head. He walked
towards me and leaned his tall body on the balcony doorframe. “Just
hot.”

“You’re good for the ego. I’ll just be a
minute.”

He’s definitely not gay
.
Neither was
I. Oh, neither was I. My entire body tingled.

Simon followed me into the room and lightly
touched my arm, sending an electric current down my body. “Lucy,
don’t change. You really look great.”

“Okay, okay,” I groaned outwardly, but was
secretly flattered. We locked eyes and I wondered for a fleeting
second if he was going to kiss me. I felt my heart beat faster and
forced myself to swallow. What the hell was I doing? I quickly
stepped back and turned to get my bag from the bed. I was hoping to
disguise the effect his touch had on me, but could already feel my
face burning.

“In fact...” Simon paused, waiting for me to
turn around. “I’ll bet that you’ll be tonight’s finest looking lady
on a cane.”

I held my hands to my chest as if I had just
won the Oscar. “Ooh, what an accolade!” I cried a little too
loudly, hoping to change the mood in the room. “Now I can bet
you’ve never been out on the town with an older lady on a
cane.”

Simon narrowed an eye and nodded his head.
“I like the sound of that.”

“Being out with a cougar?” I raised a
shoulder suggestively.

“Well, not just any cougar. This one, in
particular.”

“Ha ha.” Was he trying to get into my pants?
Did I even care? Was it really only one week ago that Chaz had
called me a cougar? Now there I was, wanting to go in for the kill.
I must’ve been temporarily insane.

“I was kidding, by the way. I just like the
sound of being out with
you
.” Simon handed me the cane with
one hand and took a hold of my arm with the other. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” I said. I took an awkward step
with the cane. Simon flashed a boyish grin, and I suddenly felt
like a senior citizen being led on my walker by a boy toy.

“You know what? I don’t think I need this.”
I pulled away and looked down at the cane.

“Are you sure? It may minimize some of the
tension.”

“Positive.” Only a cold shower could
possibly minimize the kind of tension I was feeling. It had been a
long time since I’d felt this alive, and boy, did it feel good. I
took a breath and propped the cane against the wall behind the
door.

“Worst case, you can always lean on me.”
Simon grinned and offered me his arm. As I wrapped my hand around
his strong forearm, it sure felt like the best-case scenario to
me.

* * * *

Despite my ankle, we managed to walk around
for quite a bit. We had gotten to know each other all afternoon,
but physically holding on to him for support, I felt a level of
comfort that hadn’t been there before. By the time we stumbled upon
a local haunt with a line out the door, I felt like I was with
someone I’d known a lot longer than one day.

“Le Relais de L'Entrecote
,” Simon
read from the sign. “Oh! The concierge told me about this
restaurant. He said it was the best kept secret in the
neighborhood.”

I looked at the line out the door. “I think
someone spilled the beans.”

“Excuse me, sir? How long is the wait?”
Simon spoke to a man who stood at the end of the line.

“Ninety minutes,” he replied with a French
accent. “Totally worth it, though. Zee best rib steak ever.” He
kissed his fingers and tossed them in the air.

“Their sauce is a gastronomic delight,”
added the woman who accompanied him.

Simon looked at me with an eyebrow raised.
“That sounds hard to beat. What do you think?”

We peered into the small glass windows and
saw people crammed together drinking wine and laughing. It looked
like a quintessential French restaurant. Black and white tiles
covered the floor, and rattan chairs surrounded wrought iron
tables. The waiters with their classic white shirts, black
waistcoats, and aprons, raced around, carrying carafes of wine and
baskets of bread.

“It does look rather inviting,” I said
wistfully. “And sounds delicious.” I swallowed the saliva that had
formed in my mouth. I was starving.

“But are you up for standing this long?
We’ve done so much walking already.” A crease slashed across his
brow with the question.

Oh, had we? I had been floating on air and
hadn’t noticed that my feet had actually hit the ground. “I’m
fine.” I waved my hand, dismissing his concern. “This reminds me of
one of the restaurants in
Julie and Julia
. Did you see that?
I think I left the theater and ate an entire quiche.”

“I didn’t see it. Meryl Streep?”

“Yep. It was soooo good. If you hadn’t shown
up, I probably would’ve ordered that in my room tonight.”

“The quiche?”

“No, but that sounds pretty good right about
now. I meant the movie.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I changed your
plan.” I could see Simon’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he
swallowed.

“Of watching a movie that I’ve already seen?
Not at all,” I smiled.

”Well, I know how you women are with chick
flicks. Besides, you already told me about your addiction.”

“Julie and Julia
is not a chick
flick,” I shook my finger at him. “Not that it matters. I must’ve
seen
Pretty Woman
at least a dozen times.”

Simon shook his head in disbelief. “A movie
about a prostitute? Really? I’m a big fan of Julia Roberts, but I
really don’t see the appeal of a hooker landing a rich guy.”

“That’s not the point. It’s like...” I
looked up in the sky for a moment. “A modern day Cinderella,” I
said with a finger snap. “Every woman dreams of being rescued by a
handsome prince.”

“So, what about you? Do you dream of being
rescued by a knight in shining armor?” The corners of his mouth
rose with his grin.

I blushed. “Yep. Still waiting for my
Pretty Woman
moment.”

“You mentioned an ex-fiancée. I take it
you’re ... single?” Simon shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Correct.” The knot in my stomach now
synonymous with thoughts of Cooper tightened. “What about you? Are
you single?”

“Very,” Simon said. I exhaled through my
nose, not even realizing that I’d been holding my breath. “You see,
the problem with women is that you’re all so high maintenance.”

I wondered whether he really felt that way
or if it was just an excuse for commitment issues. “Well, sometimes
it’s you guys that make us that way.”

The look on Simon’s face made me think he
hadn’t a clue what I was talking about. “Let’s take my ex. He never
would have let me go out looking like this.” I tugged on my tank
top. “And God forbid I wore jeans!”

“What did he want? Formal attire? That’s
ridiculous. What’s that expression? Clothes don’t make the woman?
It’s the woman
in
the clothes. You could probably make a
sweat suit look fancy.”

I cocked my head to the side and smiled.
“That’s sweet of you to say.”

Simon bent down and lifted up the ankle band
on one of my leggings.

“What are you doing?” I looked around to see
if anyone was watching.

“Oh, nothing.” Simon caressed my shin. “I
just wanted to see if you’re rebelling now that you’re free from
his scrutiny. You know, braiding the hair on your legs to make a
statement.”

I laughed and placed my hands on either side
of his head, pretending to squeeze it in a vise. “I always shave my
legs, thank you very much.”

I silently thanked God that I had. Two days
ago at the hostel they had been anything but smooth.

Simon’s wavy brown hair was so soft that I
had to force myself to pull my hands away. I reached one hand down
to help him up off the sidewalk. He took my hand, and even after he
stood up, he continued to hold it. I could feel my heart beat so
heavily that when the line began to move, I quickly dropped his
hand to adjust the bag on my shoulder. Through the window, my gaze
fell upon a family who were raising their glasses to make a
toast.

“It must be so weird to grow up legally
drinking alcohol.” Nerves turned the words into a chuckle.

“Well, they don’t know any other way. Do you
remember your first legal drink? It’s so monumental. Europeans
don’t have that rite of passage.”

“Ugh. Memories,” I groaned. I wasn’t sure
whether I was groaning from the memories or from the realization
that my first legal drink was before Simon even hit puberty.

One hour later, I was the one feeling like a
pubescent kid, with a crush, as I listened to Simon speaking to the
waiter in a lovely French tongue.

I sat there completely rapt. I couldn’t help
but feel as if he was somewhat of a mystery man. The moment the
waiter walked away I leaned across the table.

“Where did that come from?”

Simon looked at me from behind the wine
list. “Where did what come from?”

“Um, your beautiful French?” He might be
young and a camp counselor, but mastering a foreign language
definitely boosted him on the maturity scale.

“Oh. I studied abroad during my last year at
Boston University. It’s been so long that I still need a guidebook
and a map of Paris, yet I somehow managed to retain any words that
involve wine and food,” he said sheepishly.

“I’m very impressed, not to mention jealous.
I regret that studying abroad never even crossed my mind. What was
your major?”

“Business.” Simon closed his eyes and made a
snoring sound. “It’s what my dad wanted me to do.” Clearly his
father’s intentions hadn’t worked out so well.

I nodded and thought about what to say next.
“Now you’re happy ... at the camp?” I reached into the breadbasket
to select a piece of bread.

Simon’s face lit up with a smile. “Couldn’t
be happier. What about you? Do you love to write?” He leaned his
elbows on the table.

“Well, I was really happy when I wrote for
that parenting magazine, until it shut down a few months ago. But
I’m excited to pitch some ideas to my friend at the travel
magazine.” I twisted my hands under the table. “It’s just that
lately I’ve been a bit creatively blocked. It’s been a rough few
months.”

“I see,” Simon nodded, gazing at me
intently. “Well, don’t give up.” He reached across the table to
squeeze my hand. “Something great is going to happen for you, Lucy.
You probably won’t even remember the way you’ve been feeling.”

“Thanks.” I was so touched that I felt a
lump rise in my throat and smiled through gritted teeth. I took a
swig of my water.

“Hey, maybe I could be your muse.” Simon
narrowed his eyes and gave me a come-hither look.

A chortle replaced the lump in my throat.
“Well, you most definitely
a-muse
me, that’s for sure.”

I took a generous dollop of butter and began
to spread it on my bread. I could feel Simon’s eyes on me, and I
paused with the knife in hand.

“I know,” I said and nodded. “I’m
disgusting. In the past forty-eight hours, I’ve become obsessed
with French butter.” I took a bite of bread and my teeth sank into
the soft center. The butter tasted so rich and creamy.

“Well, then we’re both disgusting.” Simon
reached his own knife into the bowl of butter. “I’ve had butter on
pretty much everything since we got here. And it’s refreshing to be
with a woman who will actually eat it.”

“Oh, not as refreshing as being with a man
who actually lets me eat it.”