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He didn’t really care. He was already ahead of the game, with the woman sitting across from him, the beautiful premises and the fabulous view. If the food was good, that was a real bonus. “Great.” He opened the menu and didn’t recognize much. “You’re not looking at the menu?”
“Well, I read the reviews and I already know what I want.”
“Good.” He snapped the menu closed and shifted it to one side. “Makes it easier for me. I’ll either have what you’re having or else have you get me something you would have liked to eat besides what you’re having and we’ll share.”
“You trust me?”
“Absolutely.” He rapped a knuckle on the closed menu. “And I’m not a picky eater anyway. The Navy, and being in the field, kind of knocks pickiness right out of you.”
Emma cocked her head, studying him. “What if I ordered, say, chocolate covered grasshoppers?”
“I doubt those are on the menu, but sure. I’ve eaten insects in the field. Good source of protein when other sources aren’t available.” He’d also eaten raw goat and raw snake. “Even MREs are pretty disgusting. Those are prepackaged military rations. They will outlive the zombie apocalypse and are truly awful.” And gummed you up, too. On long patrols, nobody ever took dumps. They all suspected the meals were designed for that.
“Well, rest assured no chocolate covered grasshoppers this evening. I think –”
A pretty waitress glided up to them with two red drinks in martini glasses. “Two Red Skies, on the house,” she said, set them on the table, then disappeared.
Emma shrugged. “Why not? We’re not driving.”
“Yeah,” Raul answered. “What the hell.”
They picked up their glasses, lightly clinked them and Emma took a sip and Raul drank his glass up in two big swallows. It was delicious.
“Whoa.” He consulted his taste buds. They were baffled but delighted. “Not too sure what I just put in my mouth but it’s ace. There’s vodka and pomegranate juice and a couple of other things. Not very Chinese, but really good.” He nudged her glass with his finger. “Drink up. You’ll eat enough to absorb the alcohol.”
She took another sip and smiled. “I will. I’m going to order a whole lobster.”
“Yeah? Sounds good. I love lobster.”
“Well, if you’re paying, we can try the Angry Lobster which is spicy, and the Drunk Lobster, which is cooked in wine.”
“Excellent.” Raul beckoned the waitress who glided up to their table.
Raul looked at Emma, eyebrow raised. Did she want to do the ordering? Sometimes if his dinner date was one of those babes who could never make up her mind, he’d take over and order because otherwise they’d be there forever. But Emma seemed like a woman who knew her own mind. He could leave the ordering in her hands.
She smiled at the waitress and proceeded to order in a detailed focused way that wouldn’t have been out of place in peace negotiations between North and South Korea.
In Chinese.
She frigging spokeChinese. And not halting pidjin Chinese either. Smooth, fluent Chinese. Mandarin. He knew enough to recognize it.
Well.
In a very upscale Chinese restaurant, with a speaker of Chinese. He was in really good hands, so he sat back and relaxed, enjoying watching her. She and the server were deep in serious discussions so he could observe her.
She had this amazingly cute little frown between her dark red eyebrows, a furrow of concentration. He imagined that would be how she looked dealing with spreadsheets. The two women were bent over the menu, Emma pointing at things with a finger and the server nodding and responding. All in freaking Chinese.
Where did she learn Chinese? Did she study it? Do a study abroad program somewhere in China or maybe Taiwan? He knew she had an advanced degree in some field of mathematics so why not Chinese too? Raul admired people who spoke languages. He was considered bilingual but his Spanish was street Spanish that his grandmother and his sister continually told him was ungrammatical and made him sound like a street thug. He found it hard to study languages. His buddy Pierce just absorbed languages, but he couldn’t. Two years in the ’Stan and he’d learned only basic Pashto, enough to ask for water and say put the gun down. Not much more. Languages were hard.
Negotiations were drawing to a close. Finally, the waitress walked away, looking pleased.
Emma lifted her eyes from the menu and smiled at him. He smiled back.
“So. Chinese.”
She bent her head. “Chinese. Yes.”
“University? Study abroad program?” A sudden thought occurred to him, unwelcome. He coughed. “A Chinese boyfriend?”
