(8) Sushi World Takeover
Jordan stared at his large selection of sushi sitting primly in a wooden boat-like structure and said Yum yum! Lara bent forward slightly towards her seaweed and seafood salad, unleashed her chopsticks and began. Andrew sipped primly at his soup, remembering a spot downtown where he would sit, of an evening, at a winding counter, with Douglas, and pick out tempting little dishes as they motored by on a conveyor. Douglas had been, and likely still was, a confirmed bachelor of longstanding, oenophile of distinction, and a lover of fine dining who, when the mood took him, advanced a scholarly interest in the mystical traditions of all cultures, and was, reportedly, working on some kind of encyclopaedic compilation. Canada’s Casaubon perhaps, the way things were going, but Andrew held out hope.
Every once in a while he would receive one of the hallowed invitations and off they would go to some restaurant of distinction, where he would be encouraged to order anything that caught his fancy, and not fret about owing favours of any kind. Douglas had claimed a monkish disposition occasionally sullied by careless romantic liaisons of an homosexual nature. Andrew’s difficult relationship with Bronwen had been brought to his attention, but he waved away any concern. Andrew, he insisted, was valued for his intelligence and wit, not to mention his delightful Scottish accent. Douglas was through with charming hustlers. Well, almost definitely.
Andrew’s main platter arrived, a small mountain of multicoloured hues and gooey textures. Lara wished him luck. Jordan said, between mouthfuls, Yum, yum! For a mad moment he thought about burying his face in it. Rich people could do anything, right? Do anything and get away with it? Sure, celebrities paid minders to get them out of jams all the time. But he wasn’t cut out for such self-indulgent silliness and he knew it. He picked up his chopsticks, smiled at Lara and gingerly reached into the pile.
Later, over the pistachio ice cream, Lara wanted to hear the latest on the lucid dreaming stuff. Jordan looked dramatically at Andrew and asked if they dared let her in on the conspiracy. Andrew looked puzzled, what conspiracy? Lara said, there’s a conspiracy? Oh yea! Do tell.
Andrew unwound the sordid details and Jordan added the words of warning from Ken the Kuwaiti. Lara thought it sounded like the perfect adventure and wanted to know what she could do. Completely out of nowhere Andrew found himself suggesting that she somehow get a date with the young Muslim guy around the corner and see what she could find out. Lara was curious, and maybe even excited, but she felt it improbable, given that she was likely old enough to be his mother. Plus I’m not exactly a babe, am I?
Jordan piped up, Oh I don’t know about that.
Lara laughed, thanking him but suggested it was time to be realistic.
He replied that he was being realistic. Why wouldn’t a rebel lad from his background be intrigued by an older woman coming on to him? Might never happen in his own community. Lara looked at him, uncomprehendingly, Andrew thought. A half an hour later they had her talked into it. Of course, in their excitement they had overlooked how the meeting might be engineered. Lara said, let’s start with the library. You never know he might be bookish. And it might be one of the few places he’s allowed to go. Or maybe take his sister.
Yes, Andrew answered. That’s it, the library. Tomorrow morning?
Why not? I’m up for it now. You’ve got me jived. And if I can’t make it work, we’ll rope in Vee. She can charm anyone, and right now she could use a little project. But I really need to get home and rest now. Andrew will you be a peach and drive me?
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