The feel of her lips on me was almost like a tingle. She was so close I could smell the scent of her shampoo. Desire built up inside me. I wanted to take her in my arms and throw her over the small, two-person table that was sitting opposite the stove, but that would be wrong. That wasn’t what I was here for.
“Have any more of those chocolate chip cookies?” I asked, trying to brighten her mood a bit.
Hayley lit up with a smile. “Yes! I made two dozen this morning! Come on!”
Taking me by the hand, she led me to the counter where there was, indeed, a large plate of chocolate chip cookies.
“Wow,” I said, meaning it.
“Thanks, old family recipe,” Hayley beamed. “Would you like some milk too?”
“Um, no, thanks, they really look great, but I thought we could maybe go for dinner and…”
“Say no more,” Hayley said, dividing the cookies up into two large Tupperware containers, quickly giving me one of them.
“For the office?” I asked, indicating the other container.
“How did you know?” Hayley asked, seemingly mystified.
“Lucky guess,” I said with a shrug.
With a Tupperware of her cookies under my arm, we went back out to my Hummer and got in. We couldn’t have been more synchronized if we had practiced it. Something that gave me hope for our upcoming plot at the wedding.
“Where are we heading to eat and plot?” Hayley asked.
“I chose the last place, it’s your turn,” I said.
“How democratic!”
“I do my best.”
“Do you know a place called Mama Dee’s?”
“In Echo Park?” I asked, not having heard that name for a while.
“That’s the one,” Hayley said.
“Yeah, of course,” I said.
“Really?”
“Sure, I grew up there.”
“You didn’t!”
“I remember it fairly clearly,” I said.
“You grew up in Echo Park?”
“Yeah.”
“In the ‘70s?”
“Indeed.”
“Wasn’t that -”
“Gang territory, yeah. I lived in the Head Hunters area.”
“Wasn’t it scary?” Hayley asked.
“Not as scary as Iraq,” I observed.
“No, I guess not, but still, how did you cope?”
“It’s easy when it is what you are used to,” I explained.
“I can see that,” she said.
“Where do you and Jacob grow up?” I asked.
“Burbank.”
“That would explain it,” I said. “First time in the big scary city?”
“Pretty much, yeah. I never even really visited before. I spent most of my life on a cul-de-sac.”
“Jacob too?”
“Yeah.”
“That makes sense, I suppose,” I said.
“What does?”
“What happened to him. There are lots of things that go into different reactions, but if you take someone from a pretty much-sheltered background and throw them into the middle of a war zone, it is not surprising if something goes wrong. I would honestly be more surprised if it didn’t.”
“Why didn’t it affect you?” Hayley asked.
“I heard gunshots since I was born,” I said, putting the Hummer into gear.
I knew exactly how to get to Mama Dee’s stopping there every day after school for a milkshake. We didn’t have much money at the time, so I paid when I could and when I couldn’t, she would either let it go or when I was old enough to work, have me work it off washing dishes in the kitchen. Something that rarely took more than an hour. I was glad to do it. Better than not getting the milkshakes at all. They really were that good.
Soon after I had made my first million, I had heard that Mama Dee’s was in danger of closing, so I gave her the money to keep it going. Mama Dee had since retired, leaving the restaurant to her daughter, who kept the place going, still under the Mama Dee’s name.
While the evening rush hour was still going, we managed to get to the restaurant before the dinner rush had really kicked off. The lot was pretty much empty despite the open sign being posted. A truly rare sight, particularly since the area had started gentrifying. Young hipsters wanting to slum it flocking to the authentic ghetto diner. I really wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but overall was glad that the place would survive, especially in the family.
“I guess you know about the milkshake,” Hayley said, as we approached the door. “Yes,” I said, not letting on how much of an understatement this was.
We slid into the best booth, which we somehow agreed on without talking it over beforehand, and there was no way she could have seen where I had scratched my name into the raw wood of the underside.
“What can I get you?” the server asked, appearing almost as soon as we sat down.
“Two milkshakes and two prices of pie,” Hayley and I said in unison
“So, four?” asked the befuddled server.
“No, two, as in one each,” I explained, Hayley still being too busy laughing to say anything.
“Ah, got it, right away, Mr. Adams,” the server said, jotting it down.
“Wow, they do know you here,” Hayley said.
“I suppose,” I said.