Luck of the Draw

Chapter 10 - Is There a Bright Side?

Dave arrived with the dinners and there were a few moments of complete silence as he executed his duty, tight-lipped and aloof.

"Enjoy." The sentiment conveyed anything but, and they shared a knowing look as he departed.

"Dave's miffed." Mickey felt his head trying to undock from his neck. He took another gulp of wine.

"Dave's an ass." Carly said, digging into her pork loin."

"How is it?"

"Not bad. There's a hint of sesame in the sauce. Quite nice actually."

"I thought sesame was a seed."

"It is. Five thousand years ago the Chinese and Egyptians ground the seed into flour. Hand harvested seeds are generally the best."

"Each little seed is hand harvested!"

"Yup." She chewed, and he was captured by the erotic motion of her lips. "The harvesting machines damage a lot of the fragile seeds, or they get lost."

"Uhmm- what about umh... nutmeg?"

You're just asking to make conversation."

"No! Well... yes. But I am curious." Their eyes met—his with one another.

"You okay?"

"Yeah... fine."

"Right. Okay then, nutmeg. It's the seed from the fruit of a tropical evergreen tree. Kind of like an apricot. There's a red covering around the seed that's made into mace. It's used in pickles and ketchups and stuff like that."

"So if I'm ever in a pickle I can save myself with nutmeg?" His humour drew a polite stretching of closed lips. "Sorry, guess I got carawayed." Silliness was creeping into his manner.

"I've heard all these, Mickey. They go with the territory."

"Right. No more spice jokes . . . I'm all Dune . . ." More wine instead.

"For your information, if you ever get a toothache, oil of clove will soothe it right away."

"Yeah? How about my fingers, think it might help them?"

"Nerve pain, Mickey. Not sore limbs."

"Mmmnn." He forked some fish into his mouth and savoured the texture. "Truly the sicken of the chea."

"What did you call it?"

"Wahoo."

"I mean just now?"

"Chicken of the sea. Wahoo!"

"Never heard of it." She smiled at her plate.

"Want to try a piece?" He lifted a tiny section on his fork and held it toward her.

She eyed the wavering fork and then leaned forward and bit the portion off. "Hmmmn, that's pretty good... and you're right. It does have the texture of chicken."

The meal moved along with several changes of topic and finished with coffee and a shared crème brûlée. Dave brought the bill and stayed while Mickey meticulously calculated a tip based on service and attitude. Dave accepted the tray, red-faced, and marched away.

"You won't be welcome back here."

"I take shipping sheriously and so sould he." He paused and frowned. "Seriously I meant. Actually, he's lucky I don't sue for crushing my fingers. They're still hurting and look, they're swelling." He held them up and studied the several pairs of red, thickening digits then finished his wine and reached for his cane. "Ready?" The pressure on the fox head handle shot a dose of clarity into his foggy brain and gave him a moment of panic as his fingers sang.