“Huh,” I said thoughtfully, imagining how awful a cheese ring would look, but simultaneously feeling that the sentiment would be so incredibly sweet. I sighed and popped a piece of salmon into my mouth.
“Mmmm, this is amazing,” I moaned.
“I added ponzu sauce in today,” Ayaan said.
“Oh my God, ponzu sauce for the win,” I said, and then passed Petal a little bit of salmon.
“And you? What’s new this week?” Anushka asked.
“Same-same, really. A lot happening at work and I had the most awful date last night, so nothing new.”
“Have you ever thought of going on a dating detox?” Anushka asked. “A friend of mine who’s also been having the worst time dating, going from one crappy relationship that lasted five minutes to another one, decided to activelynotdate for an entire year. No dating, no flirting, no sex, nothing. She went totally cold turkey.”
“And?” I asked, somewhat intrigued by the suggestion.
“Well, I guess it worked, because she’s now happily engaged.”
“Really?” I leaned over the table.
“Yeah, she said it was really good for her. She needed to break the destructive cycle she was in. She did a lot of work on herself too, read self-help books, went to a therapist, took herself out on dates and took up hobbies, like pottery.” Anushka pointed at a large and strange-looking vase behind her. “I didn’t say she was good at pottery,” she quickly said when she caught me smiling. “And she also did a lot of yoga to quell her sexual frustration so at the end of the year she also looked amazing. And supple. Seriously, she can put her leg behind her head.” Anushka raised her brows up and down at me, in case I didn’t know what she was getting at.
“Huh.” I mused on this notion for a while. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe a detox was just what I needed to reset everything. I’d never really tried one, not properly anyway. I’d sworn many times over the years that I was giving up on dating and men, but that had never really stuck. I’d never consciously tried to be single for a while. I was always actively dating or looking for a date—trying to break the damn curse—even if I was just sitting on my couch swiping left and right.
“I’ll definitely think about that,” I said thoughtfully, wondering if my pottery would look better than hers and what kind of dates I could take myself on. The yoga I wouldn’t need—I had Roger for that.
CHAPTER 6
Ash
Friday night was finally here and I couldn’t wait to see my friends. Sarah had chosen the restaurant, a new Afro-sushi bar that apparently, according to Yelp, served some of the best sushi in town and really good cocktails. I hadn’t been sure what was going to be “Afro” about the sushi, but after a quick Google search, I soon discovered.
“Geisha: Japanese sushi with an African twist.” The menu featured things like springbok carpaccio, to replace some of the fish, chakalaka dipping sauce and biltong sushi. Personally, I thought the normal old-school Japanese sushi was perfect just the way it was, but I wasn’t against the idea of trying something new, especially if that something new came with cool cocktails and my friends.
The Uber driver turned into Long Street where the restaurant was located. Long Street was packed with clubs, restaurants, and bars located inside old historic Victorian-style buildings with wrought-iron balconies. It gave the place a bit of a New Orleans feel, as if you were walking through the French quarter. The road was a fusion of old and new too, though, with some modern office buildings having sprung up here and there. The inhabitants of these workspaces usually ran cool companies. I knew some advertising agencies and film companies here, and also a few galleries.
“Waaaiit,” I said out loud as I read the sign hanging from the building when the driver stopped.
“Is something the matter?” he asked.
“No, not at all.” Something about this place was very familiar, but I knew I hadn’t been here before. I climbed out and looked up at the building above the restaurant.
Longstreet Lofts . . . why the hell was that so familiar? I walked over to the placards on the wall and started reading them, and finally it clicked. This was where Maximillian Adam worked. There it was—first floor: The Film Place. I had a desire to suddenly take a photo of it and email it to him, but didn’t. That would be stupid! And weird, right?
“Ash!” I heard my name being shouted from the big table on the pavement. I waved and walked over. They all stood up and our hugging session began. We were big huggers. We’d been friends since university, where most of us had studied something to do with film, the only exception being Sarah, who’d studied law, but she’d been with me since high school and quickly became friends with my film-school friends once I’d dumped accounting. I’d accidentally walked into a film lecture while looking for an advisor’s office and been so captivated that I’d decided right there and then that this was what I wanted to do.
I flopped down in the chair next to Melusi, one of the best production designers around. I worked with him as much as I could, and this upcoming job was no exception—he’d already been booked for it.
“So, how’s everyone?” I asked, but they were all smiling at me. “Oh, I see. Sarah’s already told you about my latest sexcapade?” I shot her a look.
“I thought I would save you the trouble of having to repeat yourself.” She raised a blue cocktail to her lips and sipped out of the tiniest straw I’d ever seen.
“The physiotherapist says I have a mildly strained tendon.” At that, the entire table burst out laughing and then all proceeded to apologize profusely for the laughter.
“I’m glad my sex life is so amusing to you all.” I reached for Yolandi’s drink as she was opposite me, pulled it across the table and sipped it.
“Hey,” she protested with a smile.
“I need it more than you do,” I said, sucking it down. Yolandi, Yo for short, worked as a sound mixer at one of the biggest and best post-production facilities we always used. She also played guitar in a band. They had a slightly underground cult following, thanks to their eclectic mix of Tibetan singing bowls,EDMand jazzy guitar riffs. The fact that Yo even worked was something we were all in awe of, because she was actually in possession of an eye-wateringly huge trust fund she’d inherited from her grandfather, who’d been some billionaire mining magnate. She also lived in a really humble, but nice, house. Not the kind of house someone with hundreds of millions tucked away in a trust fund might buy. She always gave the best, most extravagant birthday and Christmas presents, though. Last year, she’d bought me this insanely expensive drone, and she often sneakily paid our bill.
