Love Is Overdue (3 page)

“
We’ll have to do
this again.”

I nodded. “Definitely. You
know where to find me.” I bit my tongue immediately.

He gave me that irresistible
smile again. “Of course...”

He held the door for me as I
let myself out.

Ω

I couldn’t get
him out of my head all night. As I made dinner and washed the
dishes – even through the entire movie my mom wanted to watch – his
gorgeous eyes, heart-stopping smile and soothing deep voice was all
I could focus on. That voice. Those eyes. That mouth. Fuck, I was
going crazy...

As I sat with my laptop in
my bed that night I decided to google his restaurant. I was more
than curious now. I didn’t even know his full name.

All of a sudden my heart
started racing again. How could it not have dawned on me
earlier?

The
restaurant had a website. Of course it did. And being his
restaurant, the site was all about him. Benjamin Martin –
proprietor. Chef-owner. It talked briefly about his background –
born and raised in Montego Bay, where he began cooking at a young
age alongside his grandmother, who ran a small fish-hut and produce
stand in one of the town’s bustling tourist markets. He moved to
Vancouver as a teenager, where after completing high school,
decided to attend the Pacific Institute of Culinary Arts, where he
was classically trained in New American Cuisine. He worked at a few
four-star restaurants before being appointed sous chef at the Four
Seasons Vancouver – only to resign a year later to take the
position as head chef at
Buena
Comida
Restaurante on Vancouver’s
eclectic Commercial Drive, taking over for his long-time mentor
Luis Garcia, who had employed him as a teenager but had fallen ill
and could no longer handle the day-to-day running of his
award-winning kitchen. Ben was then able to delve further into his
passion for Latin and Caribbean cuisine, his first love. Then,
almost three years ago, he was able to fulfill his life-long dream
of finally opening his own restaurant, only blocks away from his
second family at
Buena
Comida
.

My head was spinning. The
website and restaurant also had a facebook fan-page with over 1000
members. Once I browsed through it I saw the link to the videos,
which had a massive underground following on youtube.

I was stunned. He had nearly
50 video episodes – his own cooking show online! I was more than
stunned. I was floored. And here I had almost believed him when he
said he spent his free time sleeping.

It
was already past midnight, but I was now so wide awake I wasn’t
sure I could even sleep if I tried to. I decided to start with the
very first episode, but before I settled in to watch I had to find
his personal facebook page. I was suddenly obsessed. He
had
to
have one. There was no way he couldn’t, with everything he had
going on online. I scoured through as many members of the fan page
as I could, searching through all their friends’ lists methodically
– one by one. Yes, I was completely insane.

Then all of a sudden I found
a profile. The privacy settings were high, but the name and the
profile picture thumbnail were visible. It was him. I recognized
him, even though the picture was in black and white and it was a
side profile – him sitting on a log at what looked like the beach
at English Bay, his hands clasped, face down, elbows resting on his
knees... Yes, that was Ben. The name was Benjamin M.

My heart jumped. Before I
could stop myself or think long enough to chicken out I sent him a
friend request and attached a message.

I really hope
you can forgive me for cyber-stalking you. I’m not normally this
forward but our drink today and the fact that I found out you are a
youtube celebrity has really intrigued me. Considering all you do
is sleep.

-Your Brazilian
neighbour to the left.

I
immediately regretted it after I sent it. It was well past midnight
and I obviously wasn’t thinking straight. But then I quickly put it
all out of my mind as I concentrated on watching his youtube
cooking show.
The Dreaded
Fuzion.
His presence on camera
was magnetic. The basic premise was simple dishes, using seasonal
ingredients, which can be prepared at home – which is why they were
filmed in his home and not at the restaurant. Obviously someone he
was working with was at the very least an above-average film-maker
with some experience and some state of the art cameras. The editing
was polished, the sound and picture was crystal clear, and there
was an artsy theme to each episode, incorporating music – mostly
reggae, some hip-hop and ska beats, title sequences, credits, and
out-takes that made the flow of the shows incredibly
captivating.

He
had such ease on camera. He was funny, sexy, but not over-the-top,
just natural... I was mesmerized. This is probably why almost an
hour and a half later I almost didn’t notice the message pop up on
my facebook page.
Benjamin M. has
accepted your friend request
.
What the fuck???

There was a message in my in
box. My heart was pounding furiously as I opened it.

I accept. And I
only forgive you cuz you pretty. But yes you are a stalker. Thanks
for the heads up.

I nearly laughed out loud.
Then I clicked on his profile, finally able to view the contents.
But there wasn’t much on it. He didn’t have any photo albums, and
just about five different profile pictures. Less than 600 friends.
Random wall posts by friends but not many status updates. He was a
reluctant or lazy facebooker at best. The bottom right hand window
indicated that he was online.

I decided not to instant
message him – I had already done enough. But then a message popped
up from him a few minutes later and I couldn’t help but
respond.

B:I am going to
be bold.

G: LOL – about
what?

B:You.

G:What about
me?

B:You are
beautiful.

G:Thank
you...where did that come from?

B:From sitting
across the table from you. Just lookin thru your pics
now.

G:Your page is a
little sparse.

B:I know. I
don’t have time for personal fb stuff. Too busy running a
restaurant and being a youtube celebrity.

G:You are really
funny, you know that? I watched two of your videos.

B:It’s a cooking
show, not stand-up.

G:Haha...I mean
in general. You are funny. Why are you not sleeping?

B:Too busy
looking at your pictures.

G:I don’t want
to keep you from sleeping. You can look at them
tomorrow.

B:No need. I can
just look at the real you tomorrow.

G:Yeah? You
stopping by for more water tomorrow?

B:If that’s what
it takes.

G:LOL...that was
funny too. And bold. Maybe I am rubbing off on you?

B:Hopefully. One
day.

G:Ummmm...?

B:Have a good
sleep.

G:Uhh – ok. You
too Ben.

I fell asleep that night
with a permanent smile dancing across my face.

Chapter
Two

When I woke up the next
morning my brain wanted to convince me that I had dreamed the
entire conversation, but as soon as I logged into my facebook page
there was our conversation from the previous night – clear as day.
As well as his profile, which I again browsed through, spending
some more time on the few pictures he had of himself.

As hard as it was to focus
on anything else, I spent a little more time and effort on my hair
and makeup as I usually did. He thought I was beautiful? I was
still so shocked by his words.

I
stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I knew I was a
pretty girl – my best assets being my thick mop of curly brown hair
that hung well past my shoulders, my clear olive complexion, large
dark brown eyes and my full pouty lips – thanks to my beautiful
mother. But unlike my mother, who had the bone-structure of a wire
hanger, I had definitely never considered myself the Brazilian
bombshell. I was a thick girl, a size 18 on a good day, and only
five foot five. Thankfully I carried it all in my tits and my ass.
I sucked in my tummy and pushed out my chest as I stared back at
myself. I did have a nice tiny waist.
For a big girl.

It was eight am. I was
dressed and ready to go and so I set into my routine of spending
the next half hour helping my mother get up, getting her
comfortable in the kitchen with her morning cup of tea, the
newspaper, and her toasted bagel with cream cheese. My aunt Teresa
always came by in the mornings to tidy up and help my mom run a
bath and dress, until by about half past noon, when she was limber
and able enough to be semi-self-sufficient until bed time. It all
worked out just fine – for the time being. I never tried to think
too far ahead, it only scared me.

The
work day dragged by so slowly. I noticed the city workers had
finished working on the water-main break. The street outside
The Rock
was slick and wet, but clean. I did wonder all morning if he
had meant what he’d said to me. That he would make a point of
seeing me today – whatever it took.

Jeannine knocked me out of
my daydreams. “Hey Gab – I’m gonna head next door to grab lunch
today, wanna join me?”

I was so tempted. As badly
as I wanted to see him, I knew I had to resist. I had pushed enough
with my cyber-stalking the previous night.

“
You go ahead,” I
said. “I brought a sandwich today...”

Ω

By
mid-afternoon I was far too restless – and a little disappointed –
but I knew how busy the restaurant got so I tried to stay
optimistic. I stepped into the back alley for a smoke break. I
didn’t smoke that much, but restlessness – along with obsessive
crushes on members of the opposite sex – always did it to
me.

But as soon as I lit up and
took a deep drag I froze in my spot as I heard the back door to the
restaurant swing open. And sure enough, there he was. It always
happened that way. Men I was desperately attracted to caught me in
my bad habit the first chance they had.

He looked so gorgeous in his
white chef coat and old faded jeans. He tossed a few cardboard
vegetable boxes into the recycling bin and then raised a suspicious
eyebrow, turning to me.

“
Bad girl.” Of
course. He had to say it.

I smiled, rolling my eyes
slightly. “Yeah, you got me.”

He took a few steps back in
my direction. “So how you doin’?”

I nodded. “Great. It’s
beautiful today...so bright and sunny...just had to step out and
enjoy it.”

Ben smiled that smile at me
and then turned to look out at the alley and the two dumpsters
staring back at us. “It’s quite the view...” He turned back to me
then. “Mine is better though.”

I gave him a puzzled look.
“Where?”

He didn’t take his eyes off
me. “Right here.”

I felt my face flush.
“You’re making me blush,” I admitted. I took a little
self-conscious drag off my cigarette.

He raised his eyebrows. “I
can see that...so how did you sleep?”

“
Like a baby.” I
smiled back at him. “What about you?”

He shook his head slowly.
“Never enough...”

I needed to change the
subject. “So how’s business? Make up for yesterday yet?”

“
Gettin’ there.”
He leaned back against the wall behind him. “So I miss you at lunch
today – I made you something special.”

My eyes went wide. “Me?
Really? You didn’t say anything...”

“
Yeah I know...I just felt a bit inspired so I made some
Jamaican
feijoada.
”

“
Jamaican
feijoada?” I
laughed. “What? There’s no such thing,” I teased him.

“
Ahhh...y’see?
Now that’s where you wrong. I guess you still not graspin’ the
concept of my restaurant,” he teased me back with that sexy little
lift of the eyebrows.

I
felt myself flush. “Hmm...I get it...some Brazilian-Jamaican fusion
huh?"
I sighed. "Well I guess
that I have to try.”

He watched me for another
moment and then gave me that slow, sexy smile again. “Come see me
before you go home, I’ll wrap it up for you – you can let me know
what you think later.” He paused for a moment. “Y’have your
phone?”

My stomach flipped again.
“My phone? Yeah, it’s inside...want me to get it?”

“
Nah, it’s
okay...” He was patting the pockets of his jeans and pulled out a
pen and a small piece of paper. “We can do this old-school,” he
explained as he jotted his digits on the back of what looked like a
receipt – and then quickly examined the paper he’d written on and
let out a little laugh. “Just don’t judge me on this,
though...”

He handed me the piece of
paper and I glanced at the receipt and laughed along with him.
Fast-food.