In the Age of Love and Chocolate Read Free Page B

now. The next time you’re in trouble, it’s off to Rikers. I’m headed home. Jane and I have plans. Promise me you’ll settle on a name before tomorrow. We have to start getting the word out.”
    Naming the club had proven difficult. I couldn’t use my name because that would have associated the business with organized crime. Cacao or chocolate couldn’t be in it, though it was necessary for people to know that they could get chocolate here. The name needed to sound fun and exciting, but not illegal in any way. I still clung to the probably foolish idea that it should evoke good health.
    “Honestly, I’m not even close,” I said.
    “That won’t do.” He looked at his watch. “I still have a little time before Jane will murder me.” He sat back down. “Let’s have your top five then.”
    “Number one, Theobroma’s.”
    “No. Hard to pronounce. Hard to spell. Ridiculous.”
    “Number two, Prohibition.”
    He shook his head. “Nobody wants a history lesson. Plus, it seems political. We don’t want to seem explicitly political.”
    “Three, the Medicinal Cacao Company.”
    “These are getting worse. I’ve already told you, you cannot have medicinal in the name of a nightclub. Sounds like sick people and hospitals and bacterial outbreaks.” He shuddered.
    “If you’re going to shoot down everything, I don’t know why I should go on.”
    “Because you have to. Something has to be painted on the sign, Anya.”
    “Fine. Four, Hearts of Darkness.”
    “Is that a reference? It’s a bit pretentious. But I like ‘dark’—‘dark’ is better.”
    “Five, Nibs.”
    “Nibs. Are you kidding?”
    “That’s what they process the cacao into,” I explained.
    “It sounds dirty and weird. Trust me. No one will ever go to a club called Nibs.”
    “That’s what I’ve got, Mr. Delacroix.”
    “Anya, I think we can go by our given names now.”
    “I’m used to Mr. Delacroix,” I said. “Frankly, I think it’s rather presumptuous of you to call me Anya.”
    “You want I should call you Ms. Balanchine?”
    “Or ma’am. Either one. I’m your boss, aren’t I?” After what he had put me through in 2083 (prison, poison), I felt entitled to josh.
    “Partner, I’d say. Or legal counsel to unnamed Manhattan club.” He paused. “Mrs. Cobrawick was a formidable woman. When you were at Liberty didn’t she teach you anything about respecting your elders?”
    “No.”
    “That institution is a waste of the land it sits on. Returning to the discussion at hand. How about the Dark Room?”
    I considered it. “Could be worse.”
    “There’s the unavoidable photography reference of course. But it’s a little bit evil. It references what we’re selling. And, at this point, we have to choose a name. Don’t you know how publicity works, Anya? You repeat the same message over and over again in as loud a voice as possible. To do this, though, we need to have something to say.”
    “The Dark Room,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
    “Good. I’m off for the night, then. Happy Birthday, ma’am . Big plans for later?”
    “I’m going to a play with my best friend, Scarlet, and Noriko.” Noriko was my brother’s wife and she was also working as my assistant.
    “What are you seeing?”
    “Scarlet bought the tickets. A comedy, I hope. I hate crying in public.”
    “It’s a good policy. I try never to do it myself,” he said.
    “Unless it served your interests somehow, I imagine. How’s your son?” I asked casually. We never talked about Win. It was a tiny present to myself to even ask the question.
    “Yes, him. Change of plans. The boy has decided to go to college in Boston,” Mr. Delacroix reported.
    “He mentioned that.” I’d boxed up his possessions, but I still hadn’t managed to bring them to work.
    “He’ll be back for holidays and summers, I imagine,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Jane and I will miss him, of course, but Boston isn’t very far.”
    “Well, give him my regards, will