“Good evening, thank you for choosing to have dinner at our table,” our server said.
I hadn’t even noticed her approach. Either she was quiet or— Oh, who was I kidding? It was because there was only so much room in my thoughts and all of them were captured by the incredible woman in front of me. “Could I start you off with a list of our specials?”
“Oh, I’d love that, thank you,” Naomi said with a bright smile. God, she was downright radiant.
Another thing that I’d learned in our relatively short time together: Naomi was incredibly polite and kind to service workers. It was important to me as well, and a chronic issue I had with other vamps, especially the older ones. They thought anyone who worked in a service position was below them, whichI just couldn’t abide. Maybe it was the fact that my father and I were saved by simple people working simple jobs in a remote village in the middle of the desert, maybe it was because I was just a decent fucking person.
At least I tried to be.
“That all sounds amazing. I think I’ll go for the fried catfish special and the crawfish etouffee,” Naomi said brightly, and I couldn’t help but appreciate her optimism. Although I was undead, her sheer vitality radiated outward and made me excited to eat even though I didn’t need to.
“Is that for the both of you?” the server asked.
All the color drained from Naomi’s face. I didn’t quite understand why, though. Surely she could say it was just for her? That was the right amount of food for a human female to eat, right? When I was a human, our dinners often consisted of eight or nine dishes if we were able to swing it. Fattoush, tabbouleh, rummaneyye, etc… Even when we were skint, we usually had at least three. “Or is it for a doggie bag?”
Naomi’s eyes went wide, and an alluring flush rapidly rose up her cheeks. While I had no idea what was causing her reaction, I wasn’t so inept that I couldn’t tell she was in distress, so I quickly swooped in. Was the server making some sort of snide remark about Naomi’s career? I didn’t think so, becausehowcould she know that, but I couldn’t come up with much else that made sense.
“No, I have a cat, actually,” I said quickly. And that seemed to be the right thing to say, because our server laughed.
“I meant if you want that packed to go.”
“We’ll take them both at the table; we’ve been so excited to come here, ya know?” I continued easy and breezy. “And as for my order, I have to try your oxtail stew and the gulf shrimp and grits.” That was a lot of food, possibly more than I’d eaten at one time in a century, but it would be normal for a humanman’s appetite to be greater than Naomi’s. A complication of pretending to be what I wasn’t, but a delicious one.
“Absolutely! And what kind of fixings will you be wanting on that?”
“I have to have the collard greens and... uhm...” I looked at Naomi. “Do you have a suggestion?”
“Fried okra, without a doubt,” she said so quickly that I had to wonder if she was an expert in the field or had relatives from the South.
Actually, now that I thought about it, I knew almost nothing about Naomi’s family other than the fact that she had all brothers. Strange, how it felt like we could talk about everything under the sun, but somehow we’d never really had a conversation about that. I’d have to make an effort on that front for sure.
“Then I’ll take the fried okra for my second,” I said, handing my menu to our server. “We’re looking forward to it.”
“I’ll get that in for you right away then. If you need anything else, my name is Ify, and you just let me know, all right?”
“Heard!” Naomi said happily, and then it was just the two of us again.
And for the first time in many years, I found myself a bit speechless.
Perhaps that was a consequence of having a drop dead gorgeous and often hilarious human sitting across from me, looking like a pinup girl so many men went to war for. Yet, I knew enough about the woman to know she would have no problem charging the frontlines herself.
“So, have you had any exciting new instruments to work on?” Naomi asked, her elbow posted on the sturdy, polished wood and her chin in her hand. Her keen interest might have made me blush if I was closer to an actual feeding, and I suddenly foundmyself wondering how I’d ever mistaken the mocking feigned enthusiasm from the coven.
“No, but I’m in talks for several very exciting projects.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
My stomach flipped. I didn’t even have time to doubt her intentions before I was rattling off details. “Well, there’s this downright lovely Croatian tamburica from a private collector?—”
“Tamburica? I’ve never heard of that. What is it?”
And that was how I spent probably far too much of our date explaining that the instrument was based on a Middle Eastern lute and had been brought over to Southeastern Europe by the Turks around the fourteenth century. To most people, it would be boring drivel, but Naomi seemed entertained enough by the conversation, asking questions and even making the occasional joke. I almost felt like I was in a dream. Not since Iko had I had someone so interested in the minutiae of my chosen career.
Before I knew it, the server was dropping our entrees off, crowding the table with fare that looked absolutely amazing. In all my years, I’d never met a type of cuisine I didn’t like, but I had a strong preference for all the new culinary ways America had quite literally cooked up since I had immigrated here. Cajun. Soul food. Tex-Mex. American Chinese. Barbecue. And that wasn’t going into all the fusion places and other innovations. Of course, I still loved traditional French cuisine, and the cuisine from my homeland, but there was something to be said about the incredible range of dining experiences I could have in just the city alone. Sure, I couldn’t digest it or benefit from it, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the flavor. Some vampires got so prissy about that and even viewed eating human food as inelegant. But I didn’t care. Why deprive myself of enjoyment to look cool?
“Oh my god,” Naomi said, her pupils going a bit wide. “This looks incredible!”
“It sure does,” I agreed, unrolling my silverware from its napkin. “Let’s dig in, shall we?”
