Scampi and Risotto
/I didn’t know why I’d agreed to this.
I didn’t know why I was sitting at a fancy, candlelit table at Casa della Fortuna, reputedly one of the most romantic restaurants in town.
Shrimp Scampi, courtesy of Pixabay.
And I didn’t know why he was the one across from me the one chance I got to see it for myself.
“This shrimp scampi is ridiculously good, Rosa.” His voice rang out from across the table as he skewered one of the dish’s namesakes onto his fork before he added, “You should try it! You’re Italian, right? You’d appreciate it. All the stuff here is pretty authentic.”
I clenched my fingers around my utensils to help hide the fact my hands were shaking. Despite my nerves, I managed to exercise enough discipline to avoid rolling my eyes. Instead, I avoided eye contact altogether. “It’s more of an Italian-American dish than actual Italian, Jason.”
It was enough that I had to work with Jason all through our company’s latest proposal for a client. I’d always been able to rest easy in the knowledge that at the end of my workdays—and when the project was done—I’d finally have some time to myself. Yet, here I was, spending an evening with Jason, the antithesis to quiet and relaxation as far as I was concerned.
I couldn’t fathom why he invited me out to a place like this straight after work. Yes, I knew corporate culture lent itself to drinking parties after major successes, but choosing a romantic restaurant with a single co-worker had to be the most transparent attempt at setting up a date I’d ever seen.
“Really? That doesn’t sound right. Nothing that tastes this good could be anything other than the real deal!” He let out his usual laugh that seemed to dazzle men and women alike in the office, though I found it thoroughly repellent. It, along with his chiselled face and million-dollar posterboard smile, reminded me of a few jocks from my time in high school that would make passes at me almost every day. The only difference between them and Jason was that he had a few more wrinkles beneath that crown of golden hair, some crow’s feet beginning to form at the corners of his eyes, and a touch of a five-o-clock shadow on his chin. If there was an encyclopedia entry for the phrase “insufferably handsome,” he’d be the picture to accompany it.
Rather than reply, I kept my eyes down and began to dig into my risotto. It wasn’t anything near the wonderful creamy texture my mother would make. Heck, even my feeble attempts at cooking might’ve been better than this. Still, it was a welcome distraction from the situation I found myself in.
“We make a great team you know!” he piped up again through mouthfuls of food.
“The client seemed happy.” I gave as little a response as possible.
“Oh, they were! The client and the upper management. Your numbers really helped me out. Though, I won’t cut myself out of the credit because I’m sure my delivery was what clinched it, yeah?”
I set my fork down to run my hand back through my hair, spinning a few strands of chestnut curls around my finger over and over—a habit that fell somewhere between a nervous tic and a coping mechanism. That finger ran back and forth along the temple of my thick, brown glasses, winding and unwinding my hair as I forced myself not to grit my teeth.
“Yeah, you…” I paused, measuring my words, “…you really know how to put my research… all my research… to great use with that face of yours.”
Risotto, courtesy of Pexels.
“I know, right!” he exclaimed, completely missing my dry tone. “You do the dirty details. I clean it up and buff it off to show it to the right people. We’re golden!”
I hated how loudly he was proclaiming the imbalance of work between us as a virtue. I forced my loathing down with more risotto, scooping it fast and swallowing quickly, uncaring of how it made me look.
“Whoa! You’re powering through that, Rosa. Slow down! Enjoy some wine. We’re not on the clock anymore. You don’t need to rush through a meal. The bigwigs aren’t watching. It’s just us here.”
The way his voice lowered into a subdued, enticing—or what he and his fans at the office would consider enticing—tone made my utensil-wielding motion slow to a halt.
Oh god. Is he coming onto me? This really is a date, isn’t it? Oh god, no.
Every other thought in my mind, like the promise of how good it was going to feel after my shower tonight to settle down and rewatch some Farscape at home, was banished as I suddenly felt myself going on full alert.
He took a sip of the wine to punctuate his earlier statement and eyed me from across the table with a telling smirk that had me lowering my hands from the criss-cross-patterned tablecloth to clench onto my grey pencil skirt. My eyes fixed themselves on the table, following the lines on the tablecloth back and forth as a means of distraction. I couldn’t look him in the eye for fear of encouraging him further.
“You’re so tense, Rosa. I can see it in your shoulders. You need to ease up. I know how to give some great massages, yeah? I’m not a professional, but I’ve gotten compliments.”
The idea of his hands being anywhere near me made my shoulders tense up even more against the sides of my neck. I chanced a look to see him eating again, seemingly unaware of all the negative signs I was giving off. I couldn’t tell if he was that inattentive, or if he was that self-assured that he thought that he didn’t need to confirm that he was having his desired effect on me.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I stuttered. “Your hands already seem pretty busy as they are.”
Another boisterous laugh left him as he leaned back against the cushion of the booth, the volume of it contrasting my small attempt at deflective humour. His raucous voice made me suddenly conscious of the other restaurant patrons and where their gazes might be turning. As I saw a few glances thrown our way, I could only imagine what they were thinking of me.
“I love your sense of humour, Rosa! You should break it out more often. We’ll make an even better fit,” he proclaimed as he came down from his fit of laughter.
A shudder ran through me at those last words, my mind running away with all the implications they brought. Against my better judgement, I found myself asking a single word: “Fit?”
“Oh yeah! That’s why we’re both here tonight after all. The start of something big! Our dynamic has been proven in the office. I think it’s time we make it official.”
“Official?” The word numbly left my lips as I felt myself instinctively reaching for my black purse.
“You got it!”
“So this is… what I think it is then?” I began to drag my purse to my side slowly.
“You know?” He raised a brow. “Damn, I thought I’d kept it pretty tightly under wraps.”
I couldn’t fathom the idea of what this man considered subtlety. I readied myself for a quick exit as I meekly pressed the conversation further, “You’re trying to ask me out, right?”
Somehow, the outrageously confident look on his face turned blank before he smiled again and began howling in laughter. This time, I was sure the entire restaurant was looking at us. I could feel the urge to sink into the floor consuming me completely as the leaden sensation of humiliation washed over me.
His laughter died down after far too long and he wiped a tear from his eye. He sighed and shook his head before speaking through the giggling-tremors that marked the end of his fit. “No! I must’ve given you the wrong idea.” He slapped the table before continuing. “I’m not at all interested in you that way. But don’t worry. This isn’t the first time this has happened, actually. Funny story!”
I couldn’t help but feel a little insulted by his blunt words, but far more of me was relieved to confirm this wasn’t a date. I sighed as I loosened my grip on my purse, then found myself retorting just as bluntly, “Then why the hell did you invite me here of all places? Why not a bar or something?”
“I told you… I love the shrimp scampi.” He plucked the last of his main course into his mouth to illustrate the point. “And I wanted to celebrate!”
“Celebrate? You mean all this is for completing the project today?” I asked, digging back into the last remnants of my risotto.
“Yes, but also to celebrate something else too.”
His excitable addition nearly made me choke on the last bite of my meal. I took a long moment to properly adjust everything in my mouth so I could swallow my risotto properly and asked him, “Something else?”
“The bigwigs let me in on it, so I wanted to surprise you before they did. You’re getting promoted!”
I could feel my brows rising as the news hit me and it took a few moments before I was able to comprehend what I’d heard. For the first time, I felt myself begin to smile.
“I’m being promoted?”
“Oh yeah! They were pretty impressed with the presentation you put together, and were all about how great a team we made!” Jason was grinning ear-to-ear.
Red Wine, Courtesy of Pixabay.
“Wow. Finally. Thought I’d never get anywhere with those old guys,” I murmured as I let out a soft laugh.
“Let’s toast it, yeah?” Jason lifted his wine glass towards me. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but feel a little inspired and decided to match him in the gesture. Our glasses rang softly together and we each took a sip.
Well, mine started as a sip, but with how the evening had gone I decided to indulge a bit more. He finished earlier than I and began to speak again in his usual, enthused voice, “Oh, I forgot the best part.”
I made a noise of curiosity as I continued to down the wine which, compared to the food, wasn’t quite as terrible. He took my noise of affirmation as assent and continued. “Since you’re now on par with me in rank at the office, and since the bigwigs thought we worked together so well, they’re putting us together as a permanent team!”
That time, I did choke, and I nearly spat my mouthful of wine directly across the table. I erupted into a coughing fit while he merely grinned at me like the idiot he was.
He had no idea I was drafting my resignation letter in my head as I gasped for air.
Shawn Brixi — I’m an aspiring writer who loves consuming and writing fantasy and science-fiction in all its forms. In addition to publishing Scampi and Risotto, I helped run a space-themed blog here on Spine Online and I’ll soon have a short story published in our program’s By the Fire: A Dark Night anthology.
I hope to one day write books that take readers from the world they know guide them into ones they can truly lose themselves in. In the meantime, I’ll be losing myself to my love of video games and people making funny content online.
