Love Of Lust

Chapter Eight

Becky's POV

We arrived at Jerry's Grill right on time, and Zara and Ray were waiting for us on the bench outside.

Zara waved enthusiastically with both hands, pulling me in for another half-hug like she hadn't seen me in weeks.

"You'll love this place," she said.

I loved the smell already - one hundred percent authentic beef and fry oil. It was noisy and hectic inside, but our smiling hostess led us on a long, winding pathway to an empty booth near the back of the restaurant. Unlike many of the faux-Americana burger joints that had sprung up modeling themselves after places like this, the black and white photographs and memorabilia on the walls were all authentic.

I'd heard of this place before - it always garnered a mention on those food-centric travel shows, and had a top spot on "iconic places to eat" lists for my city. People were always surprised when I said I'd never been, but there wasn't much money to eat out when I was a kid. And as an adult, going to place like this alone just seemed…sad. It was the kind of place you'd bring your family.

After we sat down and ordered a round of sugary alcoholic drinks - I almost wanted to burst out laughing when Riad agreed to a pitcher of strawberry margaritas - I actually began to feel relaxed and at home for the first time since Riad had "proposed" to me.

Zara soon launched into the epic saga of her most absurdly difficult client, and we were all laughing uproariously even before the margaritas started flowing.

"…and then he goes, 'well, you're supposed to be the expert!'" Zara was wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, and I was right there with her.

Back before I'd landed this job, I used to do a lot of work on the side for absolutely impossible people, because I simply couldn't afford to say no. It was comforting to know that even people on Zara's level still struggled with such things. Of course, I'd never have to do anything like that again, if I played my cards right.

"Well, you won't have to worry about that for much longer," Zara said after a moment, like she was reading my thoughts. "Lucky, lucky."

"Yeah," I said, staring into my drink.

"Well, I wouldn't ever want to quit work anyway," said Zara lightly, pushing her drink aside as the server came back with our orders. "I'd go crazy. I'm like one of those sheepdogs that always needs something to occupy my time, or I'll destroy everything. Oooh, who got the bleu cheese burger? That looks fantastic."

We dug into our food, and the conversation fell silent for a while. I kept glancing at Riad.

It was strange to see him in a place like this, and stranger still to see him not looking uncomfortable in the least. Even with barbecue sauce dribbling down his chin, he was somehow still the man I knew - and yet, utterly not. I was deathly curious to know more about his childhood memories of this restaurant. They were obviously bittersweet, perhaps more bitter than anything - but that didn't kill my curiosity in the slightest. I had a feeling if I could get Zara alone, I might be able to learn a little bit.

"Mmm," said Zara, setting her burger down in its basket to wipe her hands and face. "The burgers here haven't changed a bit. I love it."

"That's because they've never cleaned the grill," Riad said, dryly. Ray looked down at the burger in his hands.

"Gross," he said.

"All the best burger places don't," I supplied. I was pretty sure I remembered seeing something about it on a T.V. show about the world's greatest diners.