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Luke’s lips twitched but his eyes gave his amusement away. They danced as though they’d seen nothing as funny as this before.
“Go on, take a sip,” he teased.
I inhaled through my mouth and exhaled through my nostrils to push away the smell as I poured the disgusting drink into my mouth. I gulped it quickly before my taste buds could register the vile substance, but I wasn’t fast enough. My stomach heaved and I closed my eyes, praying I wouldn’t chuck it up in front of James and the entire bar. I fought the smell of beer and fried shrimp in the back of my mind.
When I opened them, Luke’s face had changed. His eyes narrowed and he shook his head as though disappointed.
Ha! Didn’t think I could manage that, did you?
My moment of glory vanished when my stomach curled and a wave of nausea rolled through me.
“Excuse me,” I said as I pushed back my seat.
“What’s the matter, Sweeney?” asked Luke in a voice that told me he knew exactly what was wrong. I glanced in James’s direction, but he hadn’t turned his attention away from the TV.
“Oh, shut up,” I hissed and ran to the washroom.
I grabbed the sink with both hands and dry heaved a few times, but successfully kept the contents of my stomach in place. I rinsed my mouth to remove any last remnants of the horrible drink. It didn’t matter how many years had gone by; my stomach hadn’t forgotten that night even though I so desperately wanted to forget it.
By the time I returned to our table, my Cobb Salad waited for me. Too bad, I couldn’t say the same for my colleague. With his jacket off, James rolled up his sleeves and dug into his wings with gusto. Luke sat sipping his beer but hadn’t touched his burger yet. I would have thought it polite if he hadn’t grabbed his beer and slowly sipped his drink when he saw me. I swallowed another wave of sickness at the memory it induced.
“Did you know the Cobb Salad originated in California back in 1937?” asked Luke, holding his beer.
When I gave him a side glare, I thought that would shut him up. But he continued.
“The owner, Robert Cobb, threw some leftovers together, poured some French dressing on top, and Voila!”
“Fascinating,” I deadpanned and stabbed a hard-boiled egg with my fork.
Luke winced but didn’t say another word, opting to take a bite from his hamburger instead.
“So, James, have you ever been to a game?” asked Luke.
James licked the sauce from his fingers, one by one. “Of course, I have.”
I tuned out the rest of their conversation to finish my lunch. After clearing my plate, I wiped my mouth and said, “I think it’s time we get back to the office.”
James nodded, but Luke interjected. “Don’t be silly.” He checked his watch. It looked expensive. “We have plenty of time.”
“Are you sure?” asked James.
“Of course I am.” Luke smiled. “Besides, we haven’t even ordered dessert.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said. “We have a lot to do.”
“It will still be there when you get back.”
“Come on, Grace. Surely, another fifteen minutes won’t hurt,” pleaded James, but his eyes were glued to the screen. “We didn’t take any time during our last project.”
I struggled not to roll my eyes at my colleague. Was I the only one who respected work time?
“Fifteen minutes,” I warned.
“No problem,” said Luke, and he waved the server over. “Please bring us one of everything on your dessert menu.”
I groaned. This would take longer than fifteen minutes; I was sure of it.
Two innings later, dessert arrived. I hated to admit my mouth watered at the brownie cheesecake and I may have taken a spoonful of Luke’s Crème brûlée when he wasn’t looking. Leaning back in my chair, satisfied and replete, I watched the game. The home team was winning and James high-fived Luke when the latest run came in to score.
