Richard emerged from the steaming shower into the icy apartment; he took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled happily out of his mouth. The trauma of last night’s cringe-fest was a distant memory; he was focused on here and now. From the closet he pulled out one of his nice suits, one normally reserved for courtroom appearances. He had even splurged on the poor sap with the rusty truck that was always searching for cars to detail. His land-bomber was going to look the best it had in years! And maybe the stench of Captain Doyle’s effluent would finally get steam-cleaned out of the driver’s seat.
And all because of a text message received as he was dozing upright in the kitchen, trying to suck down enough coffee to come back to life. Caffeine had nothing on a missive from Rosaleen.
“I’m finally free today!” the text chirped, at least when Richard imagined in his head how Rosaleen might say it. “Want to meet at 1pm?” He had been too sleepy for reticence. “Yes!” he replied immediately. She responded with an address, “can’t wait”, and a heart. Who needs chemical stimulants when one has love?
He was about to apply a top-to-bottom dose of body-spray when he stopped. Did he really want to smell like he did in high school? On a date with the most alluring woman he’d encountered in all his days? Right.
He dug through the cabinet under his sink, looking for a small bottle he remembered buying from the cute hippie girl down the hall, even though that bit of business never led to the hoped-for date. Finding it behind some disused bottles of shampoo he once bought in bulk during a sale, he extracted the small transparent purple bottle, emblazoned with the name of an online storefront. Lavender was a natural scent; surely it would meet with her approval!
He looked closely at the bottle; it warned the contents must be diluted first, to avoid burns. Lavender could burn? He hadn’t seen that coming. Thank goodness for reading instructions! Searching through the bathroom, he finally decided to mix it with some hand sanitizer. After thinking a few seconds, he dumped a few thimbles’ worth of lavender oil into the hand sanitizer bottle, shook it up good, and then tested the result on his skin. It didn’t burn, it smelled really nice, and now he had a new aftershave for a while! He spread a few handfuls of it all over his body, noticing no burning sensation he hadn’t already discovered back in seventh grade, when he really wanted to smell nice for the school dance, and found out which part of his body could tolerate alcohol even less than his mouth.
He emerged from his apartment triumphantly, finding his car had been washed to perfection, at least as close as it would ever come. He gave the detailer a healthy tip and hopped into his shiny chariot. Funding was for the duration, after all; it was time to give back to the community, or at least, time to give the detailer one less reason to turn to a life of crime. He had to do his part to keep his neighborhood safe, after all.
The usual Tucson summer relay race was quite successful. He emerged from his air-conditioned car, trotted into the air-conditioned building, and made it to his office, switching on the swamp cooler immediately. A few minutes later, and he could have chilled champagne in there. Another record-breaking run! He busied himself with unopened mail and backlogged paperwork, a relaxing change of pace after entirely too much recent action. The office rent, not yet overdue…his car insurance, deadline still two weeks away…his business line of credit, about to be paid in full…
The next letter stopped him in his tracks. No one wanted to see the words “Internal Revenue Service” unless it was a tax refund, and he had opted for direct deposit. He sliced the envelope open, removed the contents, and read furiously. In moments, a sense of dread engulfed his mind like a monsoon storm cloud.
Rendered in crisp legalese, the letter barked that he had too many deductions relative to income, and was to appear at their Tucson branch in a couple of days. The letter was dated a few weeks ago; this was his punishment for falling behind. He was to arrive with all requested paperwork; his goal was to prove that his business was legitimate, and not just a hobby. The last word burned in his mind like a thick slice of bacon that had fallen through the barbecue’s grill and onto the coals. As if he was doing this for the sheer joy of it! The letter left him deflated…and just when things were finally looking up. Angrily, he tacked the notice to his bulletin board and went back to the rest of the pile. He was grateful none of it was nearly as traumatic.
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He had a half hour before his rendezvous with Rosaleen. He left early, not only to ensure no errant auto traffic delayed him, but to do some reconnaissance. He had seen a building getting constructed at the given address, but didn’t know it had opened. The online reviews provided scant detail except for the name, and other than being quirky, it revealed very little. He switched off his swamp cooler and began the semifinal round of the Tucson Invitational Cold-Air relay.
He arrived fifteen minutes early, parking his car and walking up to the front. He stopped and perused the marquee, which definitely hadn’t been featured in the online writeups. The full name was apparently “Angry Abby’s Abattoir”; the last word hadn’t been disclosed previously. The sign depicted a large cartoon mama, vaguely Cajun, with a giant meat cleaver, a murderous look in her eye, and a throng of terrified animals of various species. And yet the parking lot was far from empty. What sort of people would willingly eat at such a place?
“Hi Richard!” a familiar voice called out. He spun around to see Rosaleen, once again rocking her khaki and hiking boots, her beaming smile lighting up every floor of his skyscraper. She moved in for a hug; he accepted it gratefully.
“I got here early,” she chirped. “Glad to see you did too! I couldn’t wait.” She walked by him, taking his hand and leading him closer to the door. “Did you check out the menu yet?”
“Just online,” he said, happily following her. “It was divided between stuff I see everywhere, and stuff I’ve never heard of before.”
She giggled. “Well, hopefully I can do something about that.” She trembled excitedly. “I can’t wait to find out what you think!”
Richard looked at her back, finally realizing that something was missing. “No lizard buddy today?”
“No, I figured we were safe here. What are the odds of something happening in a restaurant, right?” She smirked playfully. “Besides, I thought we could do without the third wheel.”
As they reached the host’s podium, he agreed with her wholeheartedly.
They were seated quickly, menus already on their table. Richard thumbed through it, finding himself once again confused by most of the offerings.
“Can you explain any of these to me?” he asked, showing her a page. “Or why they charge so much for them? It all looks so fancy.”
“Don’t worry about that yet,” she offered simply. “Just stick to the first two pages. I’ll ease you into the rest of it. You might find it a bit…exotic.”
She gave him a wink and went back to perusing her menu. The food wasn’t the only exotic item at the table today, he thought pleasantly to himself.
The waiter arrived and introduced himself. “Have you folks decided?”
Rosaleen motioned Richard to go first. He did his best to sound dignified. “Cheeseburger, waffle fries, and a large iced tea.”
“Strawberry or raspberry?”
“Neither,” he clarified. “Unsweetened.”
Rosaleen smiled at him. “Good choice.”
“And for the lady?”
“Steak tartare with Australian eggs, and a banana guava smoothie.”
“And how would you like that cooked?” the waiter asked. A moment later, he and Rosaleen burst into laughter. “Just kidding,” he added. “I love that bit.” He left after pledging to place their order.
“So what was that about?” Richard asked.
Rosaleen’s eyes opened wide. “You mean you don’t know?” Richard shook his head helplessly, causing her to grin. “Then just savor the mystery. I can’t wait for you to find out!”