Spicy Seas was closed on Tuesdays, so I sat in the empty tavern where Amanda worked. Since the bar didnt open until happy hour and the early-shift waitress had called in sick, the place was deserted except for me, Amanda and a hunky bar-back named Todd. They were setting up for this evenings business, and I was swiveling listlessly on one of the stools lined up at the polished teak counter that ran the length of the wall. I glanced past Amanda, a shag-cut strawberry-blonde since Christmas, to the mirrored paneling, trying to reconcile my reflection with the author of the sexy book that would be on shelves at the beginning of February.
What I saw was a woman with stick-straight, shoulder-length hair, a bulky blue cable-knit sweater, and a disbelieving look in her puppy-dog brown eyes.
Youd think I would have adjusted by now to Hargrave NonFictions remarkably fast decision to buy Six Course Seductiononce Id given them the hook theyd needed, theyd jumped on the idea and rushed it into production to get it out for Valentines Day marketing. The sale hadnt quite seemed real when Id fielded the call from my editor saying they wanted to contract the cookbook and a follow-up, but Id started to believe it was going to happen after Id flown to New York in the fall to discuss the release and promotion schedule. However, any adjustment Id finally made to impending publication, or to my books racy new subtitle, had been rendered null and void by the arrival of the dust jacket this morning.
Six Course Seduction: From Hors DOeuvres to Orgasm. The cover was currently tucked in the manila folder Id brought with me, but the image lingered like a visual aftertaste.
While Amanda sliced limes behind the bar, I mulled over Miriam Scott printed in immediate large-font proximity to the word orgasm. Though I was panicking in reserved silence, my feelings must have been clear in my expression. Or dazed lack thereof.
Youre overreacting, Amanda chided. I kind of like it.
Your name wont be on it. I clutched the folder closer to me as if Todd might have X-ray vision.
I had known the publisher would go with a provocative cover, of course. Provocation was the entire point of the chattier revised version, at least as far as marketing was concerned. But not even my editor, Joan, calling to say, Now, Miriam, dont freak out, had prevented my freaking out.
Against the scarlet background was a neck to mid-thigh photograph of a curvy and airbrushed nude woman. In place of the slim black censor bars you would see on network television, there were a couple of strategically located food itemsluckily nothing as cliché and truck-stop stripper as a whipped-cream bikini. The pictures were starker and more suited to my hot recipes. For instance, the single digitally enlarged habanero serving as a fig leaf. If it had been even a millimeter to the left or right, they would have to sell my book in a plastic wrapper.
I sighed. You dont look at it and think, porno with peppers?
At Amandas snort of laughter, Todd paused in his trek to the back storage room for more ice, sending a brief worshipful glance over his broad shoulder. She ignored the adoring expression, much as she had the other nine million Id witnessed in the month hed worked here.
Its not pornographic, she said when we were alone. I thought the picture had an artistic simplicity. There are people who would pay good money to hang that in their homes.
Yeah, but there are people who like instant mashed potatoes, too. No accounting for taste.
She rolled her eyes, handing me a stack of napkins. Here, make yourself useful.
I began restocking the clustered metal holders Todd would place on the tables throughout the bars large one-room interior. Maybe Amanda was right about the artwork being tasteful, excuse the pun. The sensuality in the picture could be viewed as understatedin a bright red, naked kind of way.
What did you think the book was going to look like? Amanda asked reasonably.
I ran a hand through my hair. I hadnt got that far yet. Some days, I couldnt even believe what Id written, much less imagine it in bookstores across the country.
Ever since Id received the call that my recipes would be publishedactively promoted, according to the in-house publicist scheduling my upcoming appearancesId waffled between pride and the fear that no one in the restaurant community would take me seriously again. Which would be a real problem if the escalating tension at work led to my looking for a new job. Trevor and I had not transitioned well from lovers to platonic employee and employer. We had, however, mastered the intricacies of platonic employee and horses rear end.
Maybe I should quit, but head-chef jobs dont drop into a womans lap. And why the hell should I walk away when Id invested as much as he had in the restaurant? Granted, not in the monetary sense, but in more personal ways. I just hadnt anticipated his recent petty acts of emotional sabotage and passive-aggressiveness.
Now that he no longer had any input on the cookbook, hed done his best to distance himself from the project. After hed heard about the racy concept through the industry grapevine, hed assured mewearing his best Poor Baby facethat my culinary skills were enough to gain back my reputation if the book flopped and made me a laughingstock. In front of my kitchen crew, he treated me with exaggerated courtesy, giving others the impression that I might still be grief-stricken by his defection and should be handled with kid gloves, which undermined my authority. And he was dating a young blond chef who had worked at a Charleston inn until the place had been mismanaged into a temporary closing, due to reopen in the spring. Clearly Blondie had the image Trevor sought for his love lifeand maybe in his restaurant?
Miriam? Are you aware youre grinding your teeth? Amanda asked.
I stopped abruptly. Sorry. Thinking about Trevor has that effect.
Amanda set down her knife, her gaze as sharp as the blade. Why are you even wasting thoughts on that cad? I know I dont have a lot of experience with sustained relationships, but you cant tell me there was anything there worth missing.
No, thats definitely not the problem. Miss him? Ha! The more I was around him and his current attitude, the more I wondered how I had allowed myself to go out with him in the first place. It was like looking back on some flavorless, overprocessed, disgustingly fatty junk food you prized as a kid that would turn your stomach if you tried it as an adult.
So whats up, then? Amanda prompted. Come on, talk to me. Its what people do in bars.
I was under the impression people drank in bars, but Id learned my lesson with that months ago, when Id woken up with a hangover and the outline for a book I was currently second-guessinghalf sex advice and half cooking manual. At the moment, I was second-guessing a lot of things. Im a little worried that I handed him a golden opportunity by taking off the next few weeks.
My publisher wanted me to plug the books release with signings in the southeast and a few cooking segments on talk shows. It might not be a full-fledged book tour, but the regional appearances were daunting to someone who had never done any television. Joan assured me a consultant she knew in Atlanta was coming to work with me on media preparation. Hed be here tomorrow. The hope was that, if he did his job right, my public appearances would help sell even more copies, justifying his expenses and paving the way for my as-yet-untitled sequel.
It was all great visibility for meunless the book tanked and Id repeatedly linked myself to it up and down the coast.
What? That toad owes you vacation! You worked nonstop through the holidays. Amanda balled up her fists on her shapely hips, her eyes narrowed and full of the light of battle. Despite any personality differences, she was extremely loyal to me. Might have made life simpler if I could just date her. Not to mention the eighty-hour weeks to help get that restaurant of his up and running. Besides, he cant fire you when he approved the time off. Did he give you crap about it?
No, he was eager to approve the time. Thats what worried me. Blondies gonna be filling in. You think theyre edging me out?
The place wouldnt last a week without you.
I suspect hes trying to prove otherwise.
After a moment of silent fuming on my behalf, she shrugged. You should move on, anyway. Sever all ties with Trevor, date more.
Ive dated. There had even been a couple of kisses good-night over the last six months, but that paltry statistic was more likely to incite Amanda than appease her.
Barely! I could probably count your dates on one hand, and one of them was nothing more than meeting for coffee. I think working for your ex is hindering your love life.
Funny. I thought being me was hindering my love life. My hours were weird, Id been busy writing the second bookor at least telling myself I should be writing itand most of my social circle was comprised of couples Trevor and I had spent time with. Besides, I wasnt the kind of woman who had new guys beating down my door. Even though men say theyd love to find a woman who isnt into constant talking and emoting, many of them are unsettled when they do find someone more reserved.
Well, we cant all be romance goddesses, I answered lightly.
Better not tell that to your reading public.
Yeesh. She was righta certain persona was expected. Even the picture for the dust jacket had been an ordeal. The publisher definitely hadnt wanted a headshot of me in a white toque. No, Id been wearing makeup that made my skin feel heavy, and my mousy hair had been teased into big poofy curls I personally hadnt found any more flattering than my normal do. At least Id successfully vetoed the photographers suggestion that I be nibbling suggestively on a piece of chocolate-dipped fruit.
What would the image consultant be like? Just someone who walked me through the basics of a television appearance, or another person who encouraged large hair and fondued strawberries? If so, I hated him already.
Maybe Im not the right person for this, I mused aloud.
For what? Amanda asked as she double-checked her well, the group of commonly used liquors kept in front with plastic pour spouts attached. In the low-cut, long-sleeved red top she wore tucked into jeans, she would make a killing in tips tonight. I should have sent her to New York in my place. And on the publicity tour.
This book.
Little late for that now, she said. Besides, youre the perfect person for the book. You just dont know it yet.
Doubtful. I could talk to people about what went on in their kitchens, sure. No problem. Im your gal. But Id bluffed my way through the bedroom portion of the manuscriptthe part that had convinced my publisher to shell out actual cash.
Discuss sex with strangers? I hadnt been able to talk to my own mother about getting my first period. Rather than tell her, Id taken quarters to school and stocked up on supplies from the vending machine in the girls restroom. It wasnt that Mom was unapproachable; quite the contrary, Id had nightmares about her cheerfully telling the cashier it was my inaugural tampon purchase. It sounds like an exaggeration, but I vividly remember her maternal pride on our one and only mother/daughter bra outing. Unfortunately, twelve department-store shoppers probably do, too.
And it had taken almost a month of friendship with Amanda before shed finally got the too much information message when it came to sharing the details of her romantic escapades. I was not a hotbed of racy gossip.
Want me to pour you a drink? She glanced at the wide red-leather watch on her wrist. We open in five minutes, so its not really breaking the rules.
Oh, no. I have to be careful imbibing around you. A few drinks and an encouraging nod later, I could wind up hosting some bad reality show called Chefs Gone Wild, I teased. I blame you for this book in the first place. Friends shouldnt let friends outline under the influence.
You came up with everything, she countered with an approving grin. I dont even know any recipes, so its not like I contributed anything but support.
Yes, but youve gradually corrupted meall that bar talk. Sex on the Beach. Sloe Screw. Buttery Nipples. Which, after my initial shock wore off, I discovered was a butterscotch-flavored shot. And Screaming-Up-Against-the-Wallbangers.
She laughed. That belongs in the Bartenders Guide to Mixed Metaphors. Come on, now. You are happy theyre releasing your book, arent you?
Giddy.
Actually, for all my misgivings, Id worked hard on the cookbook. If I hadnt proved whatever point Id set out to make, Id still given a lot of thought to my culinary instructions and was thrilled to get it in front of people. Its just that while Id been penning chapter three, Soup, Salad or Me?, I hadnt considered the reality of anyone actually picking up a copy and reading it. My remarks to the public on how to spice up their cooking and their love lives would be displayed in stores across the country.
I groaned. Little old ladies are going to see it!
Hey, little old ladies deserve to get some, too.
The sex part was a marketing ploy, I reminded my friend. The books about great food.
Amandas violet eyes sparkled. I meant great food.
Sure you did.
A knock sounded against the locked glass door at the front of the room, and Amanda came around the bar to answer it. But Todd emerged from the storeroom before shed gone very far.
Id be happy to get that for you, he said soulfully. With that tone, he could have as easily said, Id be happy to take a bullet for you, or Id be happy to father your many children.
As he disappeared toward his left, to the entrance that wasnt visible from where we sat, I turned to Amanda. I hadnt said anything about Todd since Id met him, but couldnt help myself now. This was getting ridiculous.
You know hes crazy about you?
Its just one of those older-woman crushes, she said dismissively.
Hes what, two, three years younger?
Still. She leaned against the bar stool next to mine. Hes notI mean, hes awfully boyish. Id feel all, Mrs. Robinson, youre trying to seduce me.
I laughed. With that outdated reference, you are old.
But I knew what she meant. I wasnt sure why Id even broached the subject. Maybe her needling me about my slow love life had made me realize how un-characteristically long itd been since shed mentioned hers.
You arent seeing anyone these days, are you?
She started, her eyes wider than normal. Why do you ask?
Seems like its been a while since you were telling me about the guy youre involved with or want to be involved with or are dumping after your brief but torrid involvement.