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“I want to see what you think,” he says. “It is good. Simple, but tasty. A food from my childhood.”
“Oh,” I say, looking at my plate with a new understanding.
But now I’m nervous. What if I hate it? This is obviously special to him and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. Staring at the plate is getting nothing done though. It’s time to do this. Or not. But not is not an option, or so to speak.
I pick up the utensil, scoop a small mount of the, slop for lack of a better word, and bring it to my mouth. Steam is rising so I gently blow on it. I struggle to contain my revulsion when the ‘food’ wiggles under the gentle blowing. I can’t look at it and do this, so I close my eyes and boldly pop it into my mouth.
The texture is revolting and I barely suppress a gag but then the flavors follow through and it really is good. It’s not Bhoja good, but it is a heck of a lot better than I expected. I take another bite and nod.
“You like?” Bhoja asks.
“I do,” I say. “I mean, your cooking cannot be compared to anything, but this is nice. It’s kind of, I don’t know, comforting.”
“Yes. Comforting. Good word.”
He digs into his own plate of food, mopping up the juices with the piece of bread as he does. I watch how he’s eating it and mimic it. The bread adds a lot to the food. Rounding out and giving it a nicer texture, which it needs.
We finish our meal in more or less silence. I try to surreptitiously keep an eye on our stalker. He remains at the bar as time goes by and I have to wonder, does he not have a life? How about the bathroom? I’ve seen him drink at least four drinks but not once has he gotten up and gone to the bathroom. That’s weird, right? I haven’t finished one drink and am thinking I might want to go, but not here. I’m too scared to pee. I’d have to be alone and that is terrifying.
“He’s not leaving,” I whisper. “What do we do?”
Bhoja smiles. It’s a devious smile making it clear he has a plan. He holds up two fingers and the waitress comes over.
“Could you please tell Raso that I think his gulasa is absolute gada. Inedible. He should be ashamed,” Bhoja says.
The poor waitress. She sputters something, shakes her head, and wrings her hands. Bhoja motions for her to go and do as asked and she does but it’s clear she’s not happy about it.
“What was that?” I ask.
“Watch,” he says, sipping his drink to hide the grin on his face.
The waitress disappears into the back. A moment later there is a roaring sound and an Urr’ki storms out through the same doors. He looks around the room in a full rage. Everything stops as he locks eyes with Bhoja.
As he storms towards us something happens at the bar. I’m not sure I see it as it is or if I’m imagining it but the bartender looks to throw a glass. The glass hits the bar and shatters all over our stalker.
Our stalker roars, leaping to his feet as he’s drenched in liquid. And it’s at that exact moment all hell breaks loose.
36
NIYAH
Iduck just in time to avoid taking a plate to my face. Bhoja twists in his seat, placing his body between me and the room as he growls. He keeps one arm around my chest and slides us out of the booth.
“Head down,” he says, almost yelling to be heard over the din.
The entire place has erupted into a riot. Dishes, glasses, and who knows what else are flying around the room. Bhoja is bent over, tucking me underneath his body, and rushing towards the backside of the building. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the one who came out of the backroom when all this started making a beeline for us.
“Look out,” I yell, pointing.
Something hits my arm when I stick it out from under his protection and I yelp. Whatever it was it hurt. Bad. The incoming Urr’ki slips right as he reaches us and loses his balance. Bhoja grabs him by his arm and steadies him.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I was sure that they were going to fight, but that’s not what you do to someone intent on harming you. The newcomer puts himself next to Bhoja providing a broader shield for me and the three of us rush into a dark hall at the back of the building.
The fight continues behind us. It’s loud and rambunctious. The hall we’re in is dark and we turn a corner but I can’t really see. The two men stop and straighten now that we’re out of sight of the main hall.
“You owe me for this,” the new guy says.
“I do,” Bhoja says. “Thank you.”
