Absinthe novel Chapter 31

"I'm really sorry, Rob. I lost. Don't worry, though; I'd still love to go on a date with you."

"I'm sorry, too, babe. You did your best."

Whoa! I thought. He just called me babe! I was unprepared for that moment that I had to hit the brakes of my car.

"What happened?" asked Robert. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Almost ran the red light," I lied. "Anyway, are you free tomorrow night? We can do...um, let's see... There's this Japanese restaurant—"

"I can do better. Are you familiar with Le Chaumier?"

"Nico's restaurant?"

"Who?"

"One of my classmates at Chef Maxwell's. His family owns the place."

"He's a Leroy? Nicolas Leroy? They're my clients. Anyway, listen. I have a meeting in five minutes. I'll have Nathaniel Leroy rent out his restaurant for us. It'll be great. Bye, babe. I'll call you later."

There he was with that babe thing again. If he didn't stop, I'd probably crash my car.

When I got home, I slept like a baby and woke up around noon the following day. There was nothing much for me to do, so I thought of dialing Faye's number to invite her for some weekend pampering. And then I realized that she was still not talking to me. Ugh!

I went to Derrick's room, but he hadn't woken up yet. I figured he had had a rough night at the hospital. There was no one else I could think of to drag to a day of skin care and self-pampering.

I decided to go solo instead.

By chance, I had my hair done beside a gay comedian. I wasn't sure what his name was, but I'd seen him on TV a few times.

"Hello, sis!" he greeted me jovially. He was the type of gay to call everyone sis.

"Hi! I recognize you!" I greeted back.

"Wow, English-speaking!" he joked. "Maybe that's why you don't know me—rich people don't watch local TV."

"No, it's not that," I said, smiling and reverting to our local language. "I used to work abroad, so I never really had the chance to follow local shows. I just came back a few months ago."

"Wow, a career woman!" he joked again. "Anyway, my name's Mówcah Usóg, from ABS-ZBN."

"It's a pleasure. I'm BJ."

"I know you, sis," Mówcah said. "I follow your IG account, bjmesoftly. I love it! So witty! And I also saw you on that cooking challenge show with Maxwell Olivier."

"Oh." I smiled. "Thank you."

"How come you don't have pictures with Jiwoo anymore?"

"We'll, we're not really boyfriends. We only did that for fun," I explained.

"Wow, so you guys do things like that for fun, huh? I'm so envious."

"No! That's not what I meant!"

"Sis, I'm just kidding. Anyway, do you have a boyfriend?"

I shook my head in response. "I don't really have one right now. Do you have someone for me?"

"Oh? I don't believe you."

"It's true!" I protested. "Back in Korea, there's an imbalance between the demand and supply of tops and bottoms."

Mówcah laughed. "You mean there are more tops than bottoms?"

"Yes!" I laughed, too. "There's a surplus of tops and a shortage of bottoms. So I literally had guys lining up for me."

"Wow! I want to migrate to Korea!"

"You should!" I said with a giggle. "Unfortunately, it's the opposite here in the Philippines, isn't it? The gay population seems to be 80% bottoms, 20% tops."

"Truth, sister, truth!" Mówcah said, still laughing. "That's why I gave up. I'm dating a straight guy now. His name's Jeremy, and here's his gorgeous face." He showed me his boyfriend's photos on IG. They were rather uncomfortable for me to look at because this Jeremy dude was clearly in his 20s, while Mówcah was nearing menopause.

He probably noticed my expression because he laughed and said, "Yes, it's a May-December relationship. I'm 43, and he's 21. He's just in his 3rd year in college."

"Um, sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No, no, you don't have to be. As you said, the number of tops in the country is countable by the fingers on my left hand! I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"Is he not taking advantage of you or something?"

"In a way, yes. I'm taking care of all his expenses. We live together now. Sometimes, I also give financial aid to his family."

"I'm not supposed to judge you on this, but doesn't that make you a sugar mommy?"

"Well, to-may-to to-mah-to, it doesn't matter. It's not like I'm paying for sex," he answered, surprisingly cheerful. "We're in a relationship, and I happen to be more financially stable. If I can help him, why wouldn't I?"

I was quiet for a while before I was able to put my thoughts into words. "Doesn't that make the relationship transactional?"

Rob and I toasted to nothing in particular. The champagne was absolutely amazing. I made a mental note to ask the chef what it was as I didn't get to see the bottle. Right after, we were served our first course: a trio of hors d' oeuvres. We had some goat cheese crostini with fig olive tapenade, a zucchini fritter, and a few pieces of shallot and pancetta tortilla crisps.

The food was practically to die for. I had never had a French-style full-course meal before. During my time in Samsong, we normally took our clients to Korean, Chinese, or Japanese restaurants.

Next came the amuse-bouche, or what we refer to as tiny servings of flavor meant to amuse the mouth. I have always wanted to incorporate that concept into my food, a sort of preview of the kind of flavors the courses to come would have. They gave us sweet potato chips with a bit of goat cheese and caviar.

"I love this, Rob. Everything's just...splendid."

"I'm glad you do," said Robert, exuding sexiness with a smile.

He was very similar to Nico yet very different from him at the same time. Rob is half English, so he has light brown, wavy hair; a tall nose; a strong jawline; and a handsome pair of big, blue eyes.

Nico, on the other hand, is half French. He has dark hair, a slender nose, impressive cheekbones, and a more defined jawline.

As striking as they are, I figured I was just not into European men. I prefer Asian hotties like Jiwoo.

Fuck. I should forget about that prick. No more thinking about him, or I would end up like Mówcah! I should be grateful I had someone as good-looking, smart, and rich as Robert chasing after me. There shouldn't be any more questions asked!

"Anything the matter?"

"No, of course not!" I said, quickly wiping my lips with the napkin. "I was just savoring the flavors of the amuse-bouche."

Soup was our third course, and there was only one word I could think of to describe it perfectly: heaven. The server explained that it was made with Tuscan white beans and roasted garlic.

The appetizers came next, and I swear to God my mouth couldn't stop orgasming with every dish. We were served with mushrooms stuffed with Italian cheese—Pecorino Romano if I wasn't mistaken—garlic, and breadcrumbs.

We were waiting for the fifth course of salads when the server came over with my phone in hand.

"Monsieur, I'm afraid this is an urgent call. From Chef Maxwell Olivier."

Robert looked worried, and I didn't understand why Chef Maxwell had to call me at that time, too. I grabbed the phone, thanked the server, and excused myself. I walked as quickly as I could to the lounge before speaking into the phone.

"Yes, Chef?"

"I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, BJ, but our junior pâtissier got caught in a traffic accident," said Chef Maxwell. "There is no one to help out Chef Jacob in his station. To think that this happened today of all days—the Dutch ambassador and his wife are in!"

"What? Is he okay, Chef?"

"We're not sure yet. I am planning to visit him in the hospital as soon as today's service is over. But will you please lend us a hand? This is a make-or-break matter for the Dutch society in the Philippines."

"Of course, Chef."

"I will never forget this, BJ. Thank you."