“Enjoy.” The bartender set in front of her a glass of clear liquid, another of ice and a small carafe of water. “Like a menu?”
“Definitely.” She ignored Mr. Sissy Drink, who was still muttering about alcoholic candy. Darcy would love to see him try to walk straight after a couple of glasses of arak. Strong as well as delicious.
“Here you go.” The bartender handed her a menu.
Darcy opened it and fell in love. Burgers, salads, sandwiches and pizzas, but in each category a twist. You could have a burger with ketchup, mustard and pickle, or with parsley, onion, cinnamon and tahini sauce. Pizza with cheese and sausage or with ground lamb, diced red peppers and halloumi cheese. Iceberg salad with shredded cheddar, croutons and ranch dressing or romaine with toasted pita and feta, dressed with olive oil, garlic and mint.
After a terrible time deciding, she succumbed to the lamb pizza and the romaine salad. The bartender brought her a small bowl of olives, a few tiny round loaves of pita, about the diameter of tangerines, and a dish of a soft creamy white cheese with the tang of yogurt.
Darcy poured water into her arak, which turned it pearly-white, and added a few cubes of ice. She took a small gulp and sighed in pleasure. The anise flavor was clear and light, beautifully refreshing. A few sips later, she mingled the taste with a mouthful of bread stuffed with cheese and an olive. Heaven.
As usual, the experience of good food relaxed her, and she felt ready to check out her surroundings. Good crowd for a Wednesday night. A few couples on dates, a few single men at the bar, groups of guys out for a guy-time, one table of women. Most were neat and presentable, not too different from the crowd she attracted to Gladiolas. Neighborhood people out for the night. What crowd would Raoul get with his fancy backer and address? High prices would mean clientele with money to burn and similarly situated friends who had friends, who had friends…
Movement caught her eye, and she realized she’d been staring at a good-looking guy in a red shirt drinking with friends; he leered and toasted her with his beer.
Ugh. The last thing she needed was some guy thinking she was out trolling for the same thing he was.
Her food came, a happy distraction. The aroma made her stomach growl and her hand reach eagerly for a slice of the pizza, which she immediately launched toward her mouth.
Mmm. The crust was charred appetizingly around the edges, the lamb and peppers fragrant and subtly spiced, the cheese tender, mild and sparingly used so its bland richness didn’t overwhelm the dish.
Delicious. After a few more ravenous bites, she gathered a forkful of the fresh-looking salad, preparing to dive in.
“So I was wondering…” A man’s shape entered her peripheral vision. Red shirt. Ugh again. He leaned on the bar next to her, too close, talking too loudly. His too-sweet aftershave intruded on her smell and taste. “Has anyone ever mentioned that you look like Catherine Zeta-Jones?”
“Yes.” She glanced at him witheringly. “And they didn’t get anywhere, either.”
“Hey, now, don’t be like that.” His ingratiating grin didn’t falter, if anything he was talking louder. She became aware that they were attracting interest from Pink-Faced Sissy-Drink two stools to her right, and from the guy’s table of friends; she wanted to drop to all fours and growl threateningly. “Give me a break here. I’m a nice guy.”
“I’m sure you are, but I’m only interested in food tonight.”
“Aw, c’mon. Help me out here, beautiful. I bet my friends that I could buy you a drink.”
“Really?” She picked up her arak, sipped it leisurely. “Sorry, you lost that one.”
“I’m Jay.” He winked. “And I never lose.”
“First time for everything.”
He chuckled and leaned in. “Seriously, I’m harmless. Just want to buy you a drink. You won’t regret—”
“I already do.” She turned deliberately toward him. “Go away.”
“Wow.” He stared at her for a few seconds, then gave a bitter chuckle. “You’re a bitch, you know that?”
“Yup.” Darcy held his gaze calmly. “But it’s better than being a buttwipe.”