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Just then the song ended, as he screamed and pointed, “The real Teri Yaki is here!”
His words reverberated throughout the restaurant. All eyes were on him. Including JJ’s. Fear coursed through her body. Her eyes followed the direction of his hand and she saw a tall, heavy-set woman in a tight-fitting black dress, a black cape draped about her. She was standing near their table.
JJ froze. She watched in horror as Mario went up to her. She handed him a card and announced. “Yaki. Teri Yaki. Food columnist for theBell Wyck Tribune. TheBell Wyck Bowl, you’ve undoubtedly have heard of me.”
“But if you’re Teri Yaki, then who’s…” Mario turned and stared at JJ.
She and Kenn exchanged looks. Dread crept up JJ’s spine.
“Bloody bad timing.” Blake reached for Alex’s hand.
“Maybe we should have told them,” JJ said.
Kenn shook his head. “Too late to fix that now.”
“Who are you then?” Mario pointed his stubby finger at her.
She couldn’t speak. Alex mewled.
Blake, wide-eyed and red-faced, grabbed Alex’s hand and yelled, “Run! Run for your lives!”
Kenn took JJ’s arm and they dashed to the foyer, closely followed by Alex and Blake.
“That’s fine with me,” Blake said, his hair bouncing to the rhythm of his sprinting. When he reached the exit, he stopped and turned.
“I’ve had better wine.”
Chapter 39
They didn’t stop running for nearly two blocks. Finally, Kenn halted, took several deep breaths, and looked behind them. “I don’t think anyone is following us. The maître d’ is probably busy fawning all over the real Teri Yaki.”
“I wonder how she liked the Jewish Mariachi Polka Band,” JJ said.
Alex and Blake were bent over at the waist, trying to catch their breath.
“Wait,” Blake said, a look of consternation on his face, “We didn’t even get our dinner. We were cheated.”
“Blake!” Everyone roared.
“Okay, so maybe we weren’t cheated, but I’m hungry.”
“Come to think of it, so am I,” said Alex.
Kenn looked at JJ. “I did promise you a dinner. We never did quite get that far.”
They ducked into a nearby small diner,Happy Days. It wasn’t as elaborately furnished as the Italian restaurant, but odds were good they wouldn’t get thrown out, either. The eatery, an old trolley car, was updated in a kitschy style to look like you stepped back into time to the 1950s. The décor, though, created more of a worn-out look of the decade than a shiny, bright celebration of it.
They slid into a booth and ordered.
****
“But you got to admit,” Blake said, two hands clutching tightly to a giant burger, “the food is decent.”
The others nodded. “Even the coffee isn’t that bad.” JJ picked up the white mug and took another sip.
Blake and Alex sat on one side of the booth, a red vinyl covering that had several tears in it. JJ and Kenn sat on the other. She reveled in the intimacy of sitting close to the sensual man. In some ways, the moment felt more intimate than any of the time spent at Mario and Luigi’s.
His thigh lay close to hers, just barely touching it. The touch was feather light and she barely felt the connection, but it sent chills up her spine. She wondered if he was doing it purposefully. She wondered, too, what he was feeling at the moment. She knew one thing: she was thankful that conversation was at a premium. She was too distracted soaking in these long-lost feelings to participate in any form of small talk.
