Kiss the Girl (22 page)

“Couple counter seats just opened up,” he said, then muscled his way through a sea of coats and purses and elbows, towing Nixie behind him.  He deposited her on an industrial strength stool.  It was bolted to the floor and shiny from the countless behinds that had surely been plunked on it over the years.  She was delighted to find that it spun beneath her like it had been greased.  Judging from the amount of oil hanging in the air, it probably had.  She laughed and grabbed the counter for balance as she slowed.  Erik shook his head, but he looked more amused than irritated.

“This place is great!”  Nixie beamed at him.  “How did you find it?”

Erik handed her a crumpled paper menu.  “Steve-O’s has been around since time immemorial.  It’s a
DC
institution.”

Nixie laid the menu open on the counter in front of her.  “Wow.”

“Yeah.”  Erik smiled at the waitress who’d appeared in front of them.  She was at least sixty, with a Jackie O flip dyed ruthlessly black and shellacked into place.  She wore a pink uniform, white sneakers, a cardigan and frosted orange lipstick.  Nixie couldn’t have loved her more if she’d been popping a big wad of chewing gum. 

“What can I get you two?” she asked, pen to a little spiral bound tablet.

“Coffee,” Erik said.

“Two?”

“Um, no.”  Nixie looked at her menu.  “Do you have herbal tea?”

The waitress looked blankly at her, then at Erik.

“Two coffees,” he said.  “Make hers a decaf.”

“Right.”  She gave Nixie a suspicious look, then thumped their white mugs right s
ide up on the stainless steel
counter.  She seized two coffee pots from the burner behind her and filled the mugs.  “Y’all eating today?” 

“You bet,” Erik said.  “I’ll have the American burger with fries.”

“How you want that done, honey?”

“Rare.  Lettuce and tomato.”

She nodded her approval, then turned to Nixie.

“Oh, gosh.”  Nixie looked at the menu still laid out on the counter. 

“No eggplant,” Erik said.  “I mean it.”

“Um, okay.  But...”  She gave the waitress tentative smile.  “What can you recommend for a vegetarian?”

The waitress’ penciled on brows came together.  “We have chicken salad,” she said doubtfully.

“Oh.”  Nixie bit her lip and went back to scanning the menu.  Now she’d disappointed the waitress.  She sighed and soldiered on.  “I was looking for something without meat.”

“Chicken’s not meat, hon.”

“Right.  Well, I’m more looking for something that never had a face.  I try not to eat anything that once had a face.”

The waitress’ doubt
faded
into irritation.  “We got fries.  But hey, potatoes have eyes.  Is that going to be a problem?”

“She’ll have the American burger, too,” Erik said quickly.  “Well done, lettuce and tomato, with fries.  And hey, give the lady a chocolate shake, too.” 

Nixie frowned at him.  “I don’t eat
--”

“--enough.  No, you certainly don’t.”  Erik gave her knee a warning squeeze and smiled pleasantly at the waitress.  “She’s too skinny.”

The waitress smiled back at Erik, clearly pleased to be working with somebody who knew how to order.  She scribbled on her pad, then turned to the stainless steel partition at her back, behind which bobbed a sea of paper-capped line cooks.  She bellowed, “Burn two, one hockey puck, one on the hoof, and walk ‘
em
through the garden!  Frog sticks and one cow, muddy!”

Nixie found the American burger on the menu.  “No mayo on mine, please.”

“High and dry on the hockey puck!”  She gave Nixie one last look that said
I’ll be watching you, missy
and swished away to take care of more deserving customers.  Nixie turned on Erik.

“I’m not eating cow.”

He smiled at her, and it was a smug little grin that said
I should have known
.  “So, you’re a vegetarian?”

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Eating meat is incredibly wasteful.  It takes something like fifty times
more
natural resources to raise cattle
rather
than crops.  Given the rate our rainforests are disappearing and our aquifers are drying out, eating meat borders on immoral.  Plus it’s bad for you.  Aren’t you a heart surgeon?  Don’t you know this?”

“I know the facts, Nixie.  I asked why
you’re
a vegetarian.  Tell me the story.”

She frowned at him.  “I just did.”

“No, you spouted a party line.  I was asking for your
a-ha
moment, the one where you suddenly looked at the hamburger in
you
hands and beheld evil instead of a tasty treat.”

“Oh.”  Nixie picked up her coffee and took a tiny, scalding sip.  It was slippery and burnt.  “I don’t have one.  I’ve always been a vegetarian.”

“What?  Like your whole
life
?”

She plunked down her cup.  “It’s not a birth defect, Erik.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“You sure made it sound that way.”

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his jaw.  “It’s just sad.”

“Sad?”  Nixie swiveled her stool to face him, poked a finger into his chest.  “
You think it’s sad that I was parented by long-sighted and compassionate people who taught me to be gentle on
the planet? 
Do you have any idea how many of my peers are blowing their trust funds on
oxycontin
addictions and starring in their own reality shows? 
Turning out
vegetarian isn’t so bad.”

“No, of course not.  It’s just...”

“It’s just what?” 

“It’s just that you never chose it yourself.  You inherited it.”

“So what?  If it fits, what’s the problem?”

“You don’t know if it fits.  You’ve never tried anything else. 
I mean,
here you are, finally making a break for it.  Against the advice of everybody who knows and loves you, you’ve planted yourself in a random city, and are knocking yourself out trying to make your own way in spite of tripping over your face and name at every turn.  You’re doing desk duty at a free clinic in the worst neighborhood in the city, and you’re actually liking it.  Surprise, surprise.  You’re finding yourself, Nixie, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m impressed.  You’ve got guts.”

She was prepared for the coffee this time, and managed to take a sip without grimacing.  She wanted something warm in her stomach to blame the little glow on.  He thought she had guts.  “But?  I’m sensing a
but
.”

He lifted those big shoulders and said, “But you’re still clinging to the old habits.  If you’re shooting for a revolution, don’t skimp.  You’ve never tasted red meat in your life.  You have no idea if you like it or not.”

“It doesn’t matter if I like it,” Nixie said.  “I might like crack cocaine, too.  I’ve heard it’s a trip.  But I’m not going to indulge in that.”

“I don’t think a burger at Steve-O’s rings the sin bell quite like crack, Nixie.”

The waitress stumped back and slid two enormous platters in front of them.  “There you go, kids.”  She gave Nixie
a hard look
.  “You treat that with the respect it deserves, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Nixie spoke automatically.  Her plate was the size of a hub cap.  She stared in awe at a mountain of steaming fries nestled in the lee of a burger split in half and wrapped in waxed paper.  Nixie swallowed.  It hardly captured the moment to call this thing a burger. 
A juicy slab of beef reclined
on a crusty sourdough roll, coyly covering itself with half a head of lettuce and a thick slice of tomato.  Nixie could smell it, hot and greasy, slathered in ketchup, the mustard so yellow her taste buds were already singing in anticipation.  It had to be six inches tall.

“Nixie?  You all right?”

She didn’t look away from the burger.  “It’s got to be a sin.”

His chuckle rolled over her like the tide, inexorable and reassuring.  “Maybe.  But it’s a small one.”

“There is nothing small about this...thing.”

“Hamburger.  That thing is a hamburger.  And a hamburger from Steve-Os on a crappy March day is one of the very best reasons to live in DC.”  Erik nudged her.  “Go on.  Try it.”

Nixie frowned.  “How?  It’s as big as my head.”

“Watch and learn, grasshopper.”  He scooped up half of
his burger
, squeezed it until condiments squirted onto the plate and
wedged
a corner into his mouth.  He closed his eyes and chewed with utter bliss.  Nixie took a moment to envy anything that could put a look like that on the practical doctor’s face.  Then she turned her attention back to her own burger.

She hefted one half of it and peeled back the waxed paper, then looked at Erik.  “I’m not doing this to prove anything to you,” she said. 

“Of course not.”  He looked solemn. 

“You just happen to have a valid point.  My rejection of meat will be even more meaningful once I’ve tasted it and made a more informed decision.”

“Right.”

“Because then I’ll know exactly what I’m saying no to.”

“Yep.”

She addressed the burger.  “I’m sorry, buddy.”

“Quit stalling, princess.”

“It’s just...I feel so guilty.”

“I don’t want to hear about the less fortunate, Nixie.  Starving yourself doesn’t help them.  You’re the richest woman I know and you look like one of those orphans you’re always getting your picture taken with.  Just this once, why don’t you indulge yourself?”

“Indulge myself?”

“Yeah.  It’s okay, Nixie.  The earth won’t spin off its axis if you eat red meat.”

She rolled her eyes at him, then turned back to the burger with renewed determination.  She squeezed the bun until ketchup and mustard plopped onto the plate and took a bite.  The flavors hit Nixie’s defenseless system like an atom bomb and she closed her eyes to moan.  She chewed slowly, to savor every last taste and texture before she swallowed.

“It
is
like taking drugs,” she finally said, when she found her voice.  “People tell you how wrong it is, how bad they are, and it makes you wonder why anybody would do them.  Then you try them and realize they left out the part about how
frickin
’
awesome
they are.”

She opened her eyes to find Erik staring at her, his blue eyes hot with something she didn’t recognize.  “Not that I’ve ever done drugs or anything.  I haven’t.  I was just...What?  Why are you looking at me like that?  Do I have it all over me?”  She reached for a napkin and wiped her mouth.  “Sorry.  I’ve never done this before.”

“No, you’re fine.”  He looked away from her, his face closed and cool again.  “It’s fine.” 

But it wasn’t fine.  The easiness between them had vanished, and Nixie was suddenly awkward and self-conscious.  She set down the burger.

“I’ve disappointed you, haven’t I?”

“What?  Nixie, no.”

“Of course I did.”  She pushed her plate away.  “I disappointed myself.  I just violated a principle I’ve held for twenty-
eight
years, and why?  Because you baited me.”  She shook her head.  “
W
hat were the chances I’d be corrupted into eating red meat by a heart surgeon?”