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“All we had was tomato juice. I hope that’s okay,” he said sheepishly.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say I looked at him with panic on my face, “Take it.” I said, way more harshly than I would ever speak to a server. “Please. Just—take it with you. I’m sorry. I can’t look at it. God, it smells. It smells like tomatoes.”
I bolted up and shoved my chair back, crept across the crowded conference room to the exit and stumbled out toward the restroom. I made it to the trash can by the hand dryer and emptied my stomach. It was like the thick reddish-orange liquid had branded itself in my mind. A strong, acidic smell and the way it had looked, setting in the glass like it was the density of pudding—vegetable pudding. I gagged again. What kind of fool sends tomato juice when cranberry was ordered? What? It’s liquid and kind of red, must be the same? Disgusted, I rinsed my mouth out and shuddered at the memory. I kept fixating on it, on the moment he set the tall glass down before me and the lurid color of the juice clinging to the walls of the narrow tumbler, the way it wobbled rather than sloshed because it was thicker than most liquids. It reminded me a little of blood, and I retched some more. I rinsed my mouth. Had to be the damn egg salad we had for lunch. It had turned my stomach as soon as I smelled it but I’d been hungry and tried to force it down. That had been a mistake since now I had an upset stomach.
I’d been queasy off and on for days. First, the airplane food. Then the crap at the catered conference dinners. I was used to eating pretty clean except for my weekly diner date with the girls, so my belly must have been upset by the sauces and gravies and stuff that they seemed to pour on every piece of meat they served here. I would have to hit the hotel gift shop for some snacks to carry and maybe call for a DoorDash later. Get a nice salad with some… Okay, gagging now thinking about salad dressing. Perhaps ginger ale and toast.
After I’d basically heaved up everything I’d ever eaten, my head pounding and slightly dizzy, I made my careful way back to my assigned table. Thank goodness the offending glass of stuff had been taken away, but in its place was something equally repulsive. Ray Forrester.
I knew there were vendors here. I’d milled around the room where they were set up with displays and contact information once or twice. Apparently, he was one of them, although I’d been lucky enough not to encounter him until now. I was already queasy. Wasn’t this day bad enough? The other four people at my table were either in conversation with each other or on their phones since the speech had blessedly ended. It was left to me to entertain him. I was so tempted to whip out my phone, pretend it was on vibrate and fake a call to avoid having to speak to him. Instead, I reminded myself that I worked for all the taxpayers of Rockford Falls and alienating any stakeholders would be foolish and petty. Even if he made me want to gag as badly as the food here did.
“Hi,” I said. “Are you one of the vendors?”
“That I am, darlin’. I’m surprised we didn’t run into each other sooner. I did a little switcheroo to get a seat at your table. It’ll give us a chance to catch up. Nothing like a free meal with an open bar to loosen everybody up. You’ve always been wound pretty tight, haven’t you?” he asked.
Did this pass for charm? Calling me uptight and being excited as a frat boy for free drinks? I resigned myself to being polite.
“I’ve always been very career driven,” I said carefully. “How about you? Did you get a lot of leads for potential clients while you were here? Anybody looking to expand into Rockford Falls?”
“No, not a lot of market for that here. There’s some big manufacturers in the vendor hall but none of them came here looking for a place to move a factory to or anything. They want materials contracts for infrastructure upgrades, that kind of thing. Here to drum up business, not give it away.”
“I haven’t spent much time in the hall. Which vendors do you recommend I look at tomorrow? Anyone impress you?”
“The most impressive thing I’ve seen at this conference are your legs, honey,” he said, taking a drink and licking his lips. They looked particularly slimy today.
I had a brain wave. “Do you think you could get me a ginger ale in this place? The waiter I talked to earlier was pretty hopeless. But I bet a guy like you could get things done.”
