L.A. Woman Read Free Page A

dressed like this in Fairfield. At least, not in a café, for dinner.
    She turned her attention to the menu. Her stomach grumbled. The place smelled wonderful, and the desserts…what she could see in the glass case looked so good, she briefly considered having a dinner of chocolate cake with a side order of éclairs. Still, she was running on empty—she needed real food first, or she’d be twitching on the carpeted floor with a sugar rush all night.
    “What do you mean, there’s no table for me?” a flamboyant voice pierced the rumble of conversation. All eyes turned to the new arrival. Sarah turned, too, then gaped, momentarily ignoring the menu.
    He was one of the biggest men she’d ever seen. He had short hair that was obviously curly in its natural state—it waved over his forehead, obviously calmed by gel of some sort. He had big, dark eyes, broad shoulders, and like everyone else here, it seemed, his clothes were stylish. He was wearing black, shiny cargo pants and an almost metallic looking red shirt. He had two earrings in his right ear, and to her surprise, he had on black nail polish.
    “But I’m starving, Mitch,” he said, in a melodramatic whine, then winked at the maître d’. “Besides, I’m clubbing with Tika tonight, so I can’t wait two hours for a table!”
    The giant glanced around, then suddenly descended on her. “Is anybody sitting with you?”
    Goggling, she gathered enough presence of mind to shake her head.
    “Great. Then I’ll just have dinner with you. Hi,” he said, pulling up a chair and sprawling down heavily on it. “I’m Taylor.”
    She nodded, feeling overwhelmed. “S-Sarah,” she said.
    He beamed. “What a delicious voice! Like a Powerpuff girl. I love them. Did you know they were originally called the WhupAss Girls when they were just a student film? But of course, Cartoon Network wouldn’t let them stay that way…but I digress.” He looked at her. “You haven’t ordered yet, have you?”
    “Uh…no.” She glanced back down at the menu. “I’ve never eaten here before,” she ventured, “so I hadn’t decided.”
    “Never?” He sounded delighted. “Well, then, you’re in for a treat. Start with the corn bisque, then have a pizza…the barbecued chicken and gouda. It’s fantastic.”
    Her stomach growled, and she pressed a hand to it, embarrassed. “That sounds great.”
    “Obviously!” He looked her over. What was it with that look? But he was less disparaging, and smiled. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
    You think? “Well, I am now.” She smiled weakly. “I just moved in. Up the street.”
    “Really?” She wondered if he ever sounded disappointed about anything. “That’s great. I live right up the street, myself! Oh, hold on a sec. That’s a friend of mine.” He got up and maneuvered his way across the room, managing to catch the eye of every person in the restaurant. Which, Sarah supposed, was the point. “Michael! It’s been way too long. Why weren’t you at Beer Bust?”
    Sarah watched in amazement as he exuberantly hugged the man in question, who was presenting another man to her dinner companion.
    Well, it beats eating alone.
    The waiter walked over to her. “Made your decision?”
    She nodded. “Corn bisque,” she repeated dutifully, “and the barbecued chicken pizza.”
    He smiled again, that sort of slick, polite smile.
    “Oh, but he’s sitting with me,” she said, as the waiter started to walk away. “He hasn’t ordered yet.”
    “He doesn’t have to,” the waiter said, with a little sneer in his voice. “He gets the same thing every time.”
    “Oh.” The food here had better be damned good, she thought, because the service definitely leaves something to be desired.
    Taylor was back in a matter of minutes. “Great guy, that Michael.”
    “He seemed nice.” Sarah didn’t know what else to say.
    He grinned at her, then winked. “Next time, I’ll have to introduce you. We’re practically