Steamed

I’d pictured restaurant professionals in a constant state of culinary enthusiasm as they brainstormed fantastic recipes and wooed elite diners with gorgeous decor and tantalizing menus. The restaurant world was rougher and meaner than I’d imagined or hoped. I hated to think where my disillusionment might lead. The aura around Josh still glowed brightly. Was he, too, rougher and meaner than I wanted to believe?
     

SEVENTEEN
     
    MY sister Heather was pleased with the unromantic after-math of my dinner with Josh at the gloomy Essence. She’d kept calling to warn me that I was rushing things even more than usual and would scare Josh off. Furthermore, she was convinced that I’d better not sleep with Josh until he was no longer a murder suspect.
    On the upside, when Heather and I talked on Thursday, she invited me to go to an upscale Boston spa with her on Sunday. Her husband, Ben, was going to watch Walker and Lucy for the day so that Heather could go pamper herself. As far as I was concerned, Heather had it pretty good: big, fancy house in Brookline, adoring husband, two beautiful kids. Meanwhile, the way things were going, Josh and I were apparently doomed to wait until our wedding night to consummate the marriage. I was beginning to feel like a guy: thinking about sex and not much else. Josh was working constantly for the next few days and wouldn’t be off again until Monday. I’d had a few quick calls from him, but with Magellan doing such great business, he had hardly any time to talk. I was planning to go to Magellan after the dinner rush on Saturday night to hang around until he got off work. Then I’d drag him back to my place to do things that would send Naomi into cardiac arrest.
    Schoolwork was beginning to pile up, and I forced myself to do some serious studying. The amount of reading and research was staggering. I couldn’t believe how many papers I had due all at the same time. Although school had just begun, my professors were already hounding us about starting our midterm papers and preparing for exams.
    Julie from Group Therapy snagged me on campus to complain about the work and to ask whether I wanted to meet up with her the following week to study. Despite my resistance to spending time on campus, I agreed.
    “Oh, I’m hosting a toy party tomorrow night, if you want to come. Since you and your chef are getting so close, I figured you might be interested.” Julie smiled and handed me an invitation with her address on it. I doubted that Josh and I were going to make babies any time soon, but I thought I might pick out some things for my niece and nephew.
    These Tupperware-style parties had gotten totally out of hand in the past few years. I’d been invited to everything from candle parties to organic-household-cleaning-product parties. A shelf in my closet was full of crap I’d bought out of a sense of obligation while attending these events. The salespeople at these gatherings were usually women trying to make extra money, and I always felt I should do my part to support the poor victims who’d gotten roped into what were probably pyramid schemes, possibly illegal ones. Oh, well, what was one more? And I was making a new friend. At social work school, of all places!
    By the time I got to Julie’s on Friday night, she and her friends were already loaded on dirty martinis and were passing around edible massage oils. How could I have been so stupid? This was not the kind of toy party where there’d be anything suitable for Walker or Lucy. The salesperson, a woman in her forties, was expounding on the benefits of supplementing your sex life with artificial devices. She had a table set up with a variety of items for sale, and her presentation came complete with a real-life male model clad only in a G-string. I downed a drink and tried to make polite conversation with some of Julie’s friends, but they had no interest in talking to me once the model began his demonstration of “stripping for your partner.” His dance routine was surprisingly good. Still, as progressive as I thought I was, when the ring toss began, I made my exit. Julie seemed disappointed that I was leaving, but she handed me a goodie bag, thanked me for coming, and apologized if she’d offended me.
    I set the alarm clock to wake me at eight on Saturday morning. With an early start, I’d get through so much work that in the evening, when I went to Magellan, I’d be wonderfully relaxed and even more wonderfully ready