it’s going well. And you? Loving the posts, by the way.”
“Thanks! It’s going great.”
“You still fishing those clubs?” I asked him, and by fishing I meant, of course, for women and not actual fish.
“Of course. But I haven’t landed anything. I take them out, take them to parties, spend a little cash, and then they disappear.”
“Quit fishing the damn club scenes, man. How many times do I have to tell you? You ain’t gonna find anything substantial there, so stop looking.”
“I know, I know. But damn, man—you know how it is. The women in Miami Beach are dangerously enticing. I don’t know who’s baiting who anymore.”
“Dangerous is a good word for them.”
“How about the show? Could be fun.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” I said cautiously, still not entirely clear what I was supposed to do. “Miami has so many chefs and cooks and restaurants. We’ll see, though. It’s not that high on my priority list, but when Kevin asks, I’m more than willing to help.”
“Hey, Kirk,” came a voice from behind him. “Tell Stephen about that fashion event last week.”
After saluting me with his glass, Kirk turned to Stephen and jumped right in about swim bodies and free alcohol.
Excellent redirect. I turned back to find my angel in red. Damn. Look at her. Ridiculous.
Ivan, snap out of it. Don’t let her catch you staring at—Fuck.
Without warning, her eyes locked on mine, and I couldn’t look away. I didn’t even pretend I was looking somewhere else or make an effort to be cool. I was powerless. Everyone has moments in life: good ones, bad ones, silly ones, sad ones. They’re a dime a dozen. But this moment felt different. It was fucking magic.
Some say love at first sight is bullshit, and others say it’s the most real, pure thing thing on earth. I am a firm believer in the latter. I’d experienced it before. Its glory and its sting, and it was as real as you or me. Those shimmering eyes, thick with shades of opal, had promised me love and delivered. But as it turned out, it was a futile, fickle love. It was delicate, and it was misleading. Love is the stepbrother of hate and can cross over in a heartbeat. Complete and utter infatuation can evolve—no, devolve—into hurtful distain with a simple slip, a casual accident, or one regretful summer’s night.
But this was different. This wasn’t love at first sight at all. I wasn’t falling for that again. This was something much more. This was fate smiling on me and unveiling my destiny. She sat 50 feet away from me, wearing in a red dress, drinking even redder wine, and staring at me with what I could finally discern to be emerald green eyes. What was this? It was my second chance, and it was beautiful.
With the faintest of smiles, my angel in red turned away, breaking our intimate staring contest. Hopefully I didn’t make an ass of myself. She clearly caught me staring, but at least she smiled back, kind of, so maybe she doesn’t think I’m a total creeper.
Ability to dumbfound: CHECK CHECKMATE.
Share a moment: CHECK.
“Damn, Ivan. I love these cigars. I need to buy a few cases from you.”
“Sure thing, Kev. I’ll make sure to hook you up before you go.”
Five-dollar cigars rolled by an American on Ocean Drive can make one of the most powerful men in television giddy? It would break his heart if I told him a guy named John, not Juan, had rolled ’em.
“You excited for this meal, Stephen?” I asked. “Being a food critic in Miami must be a tough job. What a life. Get wined and dined at every high-end restaurant on the beach, and all you have to do is write a 250-word column saying whether it was good or not. Where do I sign up to get a gig like that?”
“Yes! I can’t wait,” he said with a laugh. “Hopefully it’s better than last year’s something au gratin. A heavy, cheesy starch was not the best pair for good wine.”
“No shit, right?”
“Let’s take our seats, shall we?” Kevin
“Thanks! It’s going great.”
“You still fishing those clubs?” I asked him, and by fishing I meant, of course, for women and not actual fish.
“Of course. But I haven’t landed anything. I take them out, take them to parties, spend a little cash, and then they disappear.”
“Quit fishing the damn club scenes, man. How many times do I have to tell you? You ain’t gonna find anything substantial there, so stop looking.”
“I know, I know. But damn, man—you know how it is. The women in Miami Beach are dangerously enticing. I don’t know who’s baiting who anymore.”
“Dangerous is a good word for them.”
“How about the show? Could be fun.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” I said cautiously, still not entirely clear what I was supposed to do. “Miami has so many chefs and cooks and restaurants. We’ll see, though. It’s not that high on my priority list, but when Kevin asks, I’m more than willing to help.”
“Hey, Kirk,” came a voice from behind him. “Tell Stephen about that fashion event last week.”
After saluting me with his glass, Kirk turned to Stephen and jumped right in about swim bodies and free alcohol.
Excellent redirect. I turned back to find my angel in red. Damn. Look at her. Ridiculous.
Ivan, snap out of it. Don’t let her catch you staring at—Fuck.
Without warning, her eyes locked on mine, and I couldn’t look away. I didn’t even pretend I was looking somewhere else or make an effort to be cool. I was powerless. Everyone has moments in life: good ones, bad ones, silly ones, sad ones. They’re a dime a dozen. But this moment felt different. It was fucking magic.
Some say love at first sight is bullshit, and others say it’s the most real, pure thing thing on earth. I am a firm believer in the latter. I’d experienced it before. Its glory and its sting, and it was as real as you or me. Those shimmering eyes, thick with shades of opal, had promised me love and delivered. But as it turned out, it was a futile, fickle love. It was delicate, and it was misleading. Love is the stepbrother of hate and can cross over in a heartbeat. Complete and utter infatuation can evolve—no, devolve—into hurtful distain with a simple slip, a casual accident, or one regretful summer’s night.
But this was different. This wasn’t love at first sight at all. I wasn’t falling for that again. This was something much more. This was fate smiling on me and unveiling my destiny. She sat 50 feet away from me, wearing in a red dress, drinking even redder wine, and staring at me with what I could finally discern to be emerald green eyes. What was this? It was my second chance, and it was beautiful.
With the faintest of smiles, my angel in red turned away, breaking our intimate staring contest. Hopefully I didn’t make an ass of myself. She clearly caught me staring, but at least she smiled back, kind of, so maybe she doesn’t think I’m a total creeper.
Ability to dumbfound: CHECK CHECKMATE.
Share a moment: CHECK.
“Damn, Ivan. I love these cigars. I need to buy a few cases from you.”
“Sure thing, Kev. I’ll make sure to hook you up before you go.”
Five-dollar cigars rolled by an American on Ocean Drive can make one of the most powerful men in television giddy? It would break his heart if I told him a guy named John, not Juan, had rolled ’em.
“You excited for this meal, Stephen?” I asked. “Being a food critic in Miami must be a tough job. What a life. Get wined and dined at every high-end restaurant on the beach, and all you have to do is write a 250-word column saying whether it was good or not. Where do I sign up to get a gig like that?”
“Yes! I can’t wait,” he said with a laugh. “Hopefully it’s better than last year’s something au gratin. A heavy, cheesy starch was not the best pair for good wine.”
“No shit, right?”
“Let’s take our seats, shall we?” Kevin
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