Luck on the Line by Zoraida Cordova Page B

to the sales associate who looks eager for us to make up our minds. The whole thing costs more than all of my rent from the past year. The sales guy kisses our hands on the way out.
    I cross this chore off the list, but still I have this sinking feeling. It’s like that nightmare where you’re walking to a location, an object, a person, but no matter how far you walk, no matter how close you think you’re getting, the road just keeps getting longer and longer.
    When we step outside, I’m affronted by the sight of James and my mother. They’re seven feet tall and my mother has a mustache scribbled on her upper lip. Someone drew a tiny penis over James’s white chef outfit. The bus brakes at a red light so I can get a good look at the ad. Evenings in Stella’s Kitchen Presents: The Star, A Unique Dining Experience. I don’t know if I want to vomit or lick James’s face. It’s a universal rule that awareness makes you see things you otherwise wouldn’t. Like when you get dumped, you start noticing all the PDA couples all around you. Or when you’re trying to quit carbs and every shop you walk past has pastries in the windows. The light turns green and James’s face continues its campaign down Essex St.
    Felicity tries to snap a photo of the ad but it comes out blurry. “This is the first time I’ve seen it. Those ads cost more than I make in a year.”
    My new borrowed lady-boss phone buzzes. James’s name sends a shock though my core. Dear Body, why are you betraying me? Starting anything with James would lead to no good. Perhaps that’s why I’m attracted to him. Or maybe it isn’t him. Maybe I’m just attracted to heartbreak.
    James: You’re late.
    Me: Not for another 10 minutes. On our way.
    James: Really on your way, or just leaving your location on your way? ;)
    Me: Why? Is your PETIT rabbit salad getting cold?
    James: You’re hilarious.
    Me: Your face is hilarious. I saw it on a bus.
    James: Don’t remind me.
    I smack my forehead.
    Felicity looks over my shoulder and I slide the phone in my pocket. “Oh! I didn’t realize what time it was. James is cranky when people are late.”
    “Our Lord of Perpetual Crankiness?”
    Her full lips are pretty and wide. “His food is orgasmic.”
    “I bet that’s not the only thing about him that’s orgasmic.” I nudge her playfully.
    Felicity’s brown skin turns scarlet. “You’re terrible.”
    I get in the passenger seat of her car. “I never claimed to be anything else.”

Chapter 14
    When I take a deep breath in The Star, I’m happy to say it no longer smells like shit. As much as I want to hate Ben the plumber for being a sexist pig, he got the work done.
    The tables and chairs have plastic sheets over them. A thin layer of sawdust and sheetrock dust covers every surface. Carlos and his team are busy measuring the wall and ceiling that needs patching up. They stop what they’re doing to greet us, which feels funny.
    I’m a little surprised to see Chef James standing at the bar instead of the kitchen. I’m even more surprised that he’s wearing flip-flops. It’s okay because the next thing I notice is how his chef’s jacket is buttoned all the way, hugging every curve of his massive arms. His black waves look extra glossy under the white bar lights.
    He uses a towel to turn a dish so it’s facing the empty seat across from it, then tucks the towel in his pocket. My nose perks up at the mixture of aromas wafting from the spread of carefully plated dishes. Standing next to James is a young guy with bushy dark eyebrows and a long, severe face. He turns the plate the other way. Instantly, I know this has to be his sous-chef.
    When James sees me, he looks to Felicity immediately. He wipes his hand on the breast of his chef’s coat and clears his throat. A slight flush colors his neck. He won’t look at me, and I know he has to be thinking about last night. I know I am. But I can’t show it, so I take those feelings and shove them neatly in my