Love Is Overdue Read online

  “I’m just being careful,” I admitted, taking a sip of my beer. “You and her could be best friends for all I know...”

  He smiled at my joke. “That is very true,” he said, playing along. “She seems to like me a lot too...or maybe just my food.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “She has definitely sung your praises quite a bit...” I took a breath. “So how long have you had this place?” I wondered.

  “Three years,” he answered simply, not taking his eyes off of me. “I got tired of working for people – I’m not very good at cooking someone else’s food so I figure I better just do this shit on my own. But I’m not a businessman either so – it’s a constant battle.” He sighed and took a sip of his Red Stripe, leaning back in his chair. “If I was a businessman I would probably be running around trying to figure out who’s ass am supposed to sue for fucking with my water-line but instead I’m here having a drink with you...”

  I laughed. “That’s not so bad, is it?”

  “Not at all,” he admitted. “I was actually hoping I would have the chance to have a drink with you...”

  “Really?” My stomach flipped.

  “Yeah...you know...get to know you and ting...” That accent kept creeping in again and again. “So tell me about you...where you from?”

  I caught my breath. “Well...I grew up in Burnaby with my mom and my brother...but I was born in Brazil. Moved here when I was ten.”

  Ben raised his eyebrows. “Brazil? Wow...” He hesitated briefly. “So you speak Portuguese?”

  I smiled. “Yes, of course...do you?” I teased.

  “Hmmm...no. You can teach me though.”

  I laughed again. “Okay, what would you like to know?”

  He leaned back in his seat again, hesitating. God, he was so sexy. “Let’s see...” He was studying me closely again. “Well, this is not very original, am sure you heard this many times...”

  “Really? And what is that?” I wanted to know.

  He paused. “You have a very beautiful smile.”

  My heart stopped. “Thank you,” I managed after I had regained my senses.

  But Ben laughed. “No, you supposed to teach me how to say it in Portuguese.”

  I was sure I was beat red now. “Oops. That’s right.” I took a deep breath. “Você tem um sorriso muito bonito.”

  He leaned forward. “What?”

  I laughed. “Você tem um sorriso muito bonito,” I repeated slowly.

  Then he smiled again. “Thank you.”

  I laughed again. “Very funny. Okay, you got me,” I admitted. “So what about you? Where you from?”

  He gave me a look and frowned. “Guess.”

  “Okay...” I nodded, deciding to get him back. “Mexico.”

  That made him laugh. A real laugh. And it was oh-so-sexy as well. “Si, seňora.”

  “Minha senhora,” I corrected him.

  He nodded. “Got it...” He took another sip of his beer. “I worked in an El Salvadorian restaurant for a few years so my Spanish is better than my Portuguese...”

  “It works actually,” I said then, changing course. “The Caribbean-Latin fusion thing – it’s delicious.”

  He smiled. “In more ways than one...”

  I laughed. “Oh really?” I raised my eyebrows.

  He nodded. “Yeah, man....I have a Caribbean-Latin fusion daughter too so it’s not just food that works...”

  My eyes went wide. “Wow...that’s interesting. How old is your daughter?”

  “Six.”

  I smiled. “Just the one?”

  “Yes, just one...you?”

  I shook my head. “No kids...not yet...one day maybe.” My standard response. However the chances of that happening, in my mind, were about as likely as me winning the lottery, never having gambled a day in my life.

  He was studying me closely again. “Do you still live in Burnaby?”

  I shook my head. “Actually no...we live here in Vancouver now...in the city.” I stopped talking immediately. I had said “we”.... I hoped he hadn’t picked up on that.

  But of course he had. “We?” he asked.

  I sighed. “Yeah...me and my mom. We have a place here in East Van.”

  He nodded slowly. I expected him to ask me why I still lived with my mother but he didn’t. Usually I would have just changed the subject but for some reason I decided to tell him. This always went either way with a guy which is why I generally avoided the topic, but I took a chance nonetheless.

  “My mom has MS and she has a hard time getting around sometimes so...that’s why I still live with my mom.” I shrugged. “People sometimes wonder.”

  I tried to read his expression but it hadn’t changed. “She’s lucky to have you,” he said then.

  I smiled. I liked his answer. “I’m lucky to have her too,” I admitted. “So what do you do when you’re not running your restaurant?”

  He looked to be thinking about it. “Sleep,” he said finally.

  I laughed. “Come on...”

  He shrugged. “It’s a tough gig, am tellin’ you...but let’s see...” He sighed, thinking about his response. “I spend time with my daughter...play a little music...smoke a little herb...just enjoy life, y’know?”

  I smiled. “Your daughter lives with you?”

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t see her as much as I would like, but – I take what I can get. I just make the best of it.”

  “What kinda music do you play?”

  “A little guitar,” he said, still staring me down. “I used to sing in a ska band about ten years ago but gave it up to focus on my career. But I still jam with them sometimes – do a little cameo if I feel like when they do a gig – depends on my mood.” He smiled.

  “You have a lot of family?” I wanted to know then.

  He kind of laughed. “I have enough...”

  That made me laugh too. “What does that mean?”

  “Too many people pulling me away from my sleep.”

  I shook my head. “No...people are good,” I stressed. “Especially the ones that are good to you.”

  He gave me that intense look again. “I like that...you should write that one down.”

  I laughed. “If I wrote down every profound thought I have, I would be writing for weeks,” I joked. Stupid. I mentally kicked myself yet again.

  But Ben smiled at that. “Nothing wrong with that...”

  “Hey Ben.” Lena had come up to our table. “The guy from the city wants to talk to you...hopefully he got some good news.”

  Ben glanced over at her. “Cool...I be right there,” he told her and then turned back to me as she walked away.

  “I should let you get back to pretending to be a businessman,” I teased him, secretly disappointed beyond belief at the thought of our time being up. I was loving our conversation.

  He smiled as he lifted himself up from his chair. “You’re great company...I enjoyed the drink.”

  I stood up as well. “Same here.”

  “We’ll have to do this again.”

  I nodded. “Definitely. You know where to find me.” I bit my tongue immediately.

  He gave me that irresistible smile again. “Of course...”

  He held the door for me as I let myself out.

  Ω

  I couldn’t get him out of my head all night. As I made dinner and washed the dishes – even through the entire movie my mom wanted to watch – his gorgeous eyes, heart-stopping smile and soothing deep voice was all I could focus on. That voice. Those eyes. That mouth. Fuck, I was going crazy...

  As I sat with my laptop in my bed that night I decided to google his restaurant. I was more than curious now. I didn’t even know his full name.

  All of a sudden my heart started racing again. How could it not have dawned on me earlier?

  The restaurant had a website. Of course it did. And being his restaurant, the site was all about him. Benjamin Martin – proprietor. Chef-owner. It talked briefly about his background – born a
nd raised in Montego Bay, where he began cooking at a young age alongside his grandmother, who ran a small fish-hut and produce stand in one of the town’s bustling tourist markets. He moved to Vancouver as a teenager, where after completing high school, decided to attend the Pacific Institute of Culinary Arts, where he was classically trained in New American Cuisine. He worked at a few four-star restaurants before being appointed sous chef at the Four Seasons Vancouver – only to resign a year later to take the position as head chef at Buena Comida Restaurante on Vancouver’s eclectic Commercial Drive, taking over for his long-time mentor Luis Garcia, who had employed him as a teenager but had fallen ill and could no longer handle the day-to-day running of his award-winning kitchen. Ben was then able to delve further into his passion for Latin and Caribbean cuisine, his first love. Then, almost three years ago, he was able to fulfill his life-long dream of finally opening his own restaurant, only blocks away from his second family at Buena Comida.

  My head was spinning. The website and restaurant also had a facebook fan-page with over 1000 members. Once I browsed through it I saw the link to the videos, which had a massive underground following on youtube.

  I was stunned. He had nearly 50 video episodes – his own cooking show online! I was more than stunned. I was floored. And here I had almost believed him when he said he spent his free time sleeping.

  It was already past midnight, but I was now so wide awake I wasn’t sure I could even sleep if I tried to. I decided to start with the very first episode, but before I settled in to watch I had to find his personal facebook page. I was suddenly obsessed. He had to have one. There was no way he couldn’t, with everything he had going on online. I scoured through as many members of the fan page as I could, searching through all their friends’ lists methodically – one by one. Yes, I was completely insane.

  Then all of a sudden I found a profile. The privacy settings were high, but the name and the profile picture thumbnail were visible. It was him. I recognized him, even though the picture was in black and white and it was a side profile – him sitting on a log at what looked like the beach at English Bay, his hands clasped, face down, elbows resting on his knees... Yes, that was Ben. The name was Benjamin M.

  My heart jumped. Before I could stop myself or think long enough to chicken out I sent him a friend request and attached a message.

  I really hope you can forgive me for cyber-stalking you. I’m not normally this forward but our drink today and the fact that I found out you are a youtube celebrity has really intrigued me. Considering all you do is sleep.

  -Your Brazilian neighbour to the left.

  I immediately regretted it after I sent it. It was well past midnight and I obviously wasn’t thinking straight. But then I quickly put it all out of my mind as I concentrated on watching his youtube cooking show. The Dreaded Fuzion. His presence on camera was magnetic. The basic premise was simple dishes, using seasonal ingredients, which can be prepared at home – which is why they were filmed in his home and not at the restaurant. Obviously someone he was working with was at the very least an above-average film-maker with some experience and some state of the art cameras. The editing was polished, the sound and picture was crystal clear, and there was an artsy theme to each episode, incorporating music – mostly reggae, some hip-hop and ska beats, title sequences, credits, and out-takes that made the flow of the shows incredibly captivating.

  He had such ease on camera. He was funny, sexy, but not over-the-top, just natural... I was mesmerized. This is probably why almost an hour and a half later I almost didn’t notice the message pop up on my facebook page. Benjamin M. has accepted your friend request. What the fuck???

  There was a message in my in box. My heart was pounding furiously as I opened it.

  I accept. And I only forgive you cuz you pretty. But yes you are a stalker. Thanks for the heads up.

  I nearly laughed out loud. Then I clicked on his profile, finally able to view the contents. But there wasn’t much on it. He didn’t have any photo albums, and just about five different profile pictures. Less than 600 friends. Random wall posts by friends but not many status updates. He was a reluctant or lazy facebooker at best. The bottom right hand window indicated that he was online.

  I decided not to instant message him – I had already done enough. But then a message popped up from him a few minutes later and I couldn’t help but respond.

  B:I am going to be bold.

  G: LOL – about what?

  B:You.

  G:What about me?

  B:You are beautiful.

  G:Thank you...where did that come from?

  B:From sitting across the table from you. Just lookin thru your pics now.

  G:Your page is a little sparse.

  B:I know. I don’t have time for personal fb stuff. Too busy running a restaurant and being a youtube celebrity.

  G:You are really funny, you know that? I watched two of your videos.

  B:It’s a cooking show, not stand-up.

  G:Haha...I mean in general. You are funny. Why are you not sleeping?

  B:Too busy looking at your pictures.

  G:I don’t want to keep you from sleeping. You can look at them tomorrow.

  B:No need. I can just look at the real you tomorrow.

  G:Yeah? You stopping by for more water tomorrow?

  B:If that’s what it takes.

  G:LOL...that was funny too. And bold. Maybe I am rubbing off on you?

  B:Hopefully. One day.

  G:Ummmm...?

  B:Have a good sleep.

  G:Uhh – ok. You too Ben.

  I fell asleep that night with a permanent smile dancing across my face.

  Chapter Two

  When I woke up the next morning my brain wanted to convince me that I had dreamed the entire conversation, but as soon as I logged into my facebook page there was our conversation from the previous night – clear as day. As well as his profile, which I again browsed through, spending some more time on the few pictures he had of himself.

  As hard as it was to focus on anything else, I spent a little more time and effort on my hair and makeup as I usually did. He thought I was beautiful? I was still so shocked by his words.

  I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I knew I was a pretty girl – my best assets being my thick mop of curly brown hair that hung well past my shoulders, my clear olive complexion, large dark brown eyes and my full pouty lips – thanks to my beautiful mother. But unlike my mother, who had the bone-structure of a wire hanger, I had definitely never considered myself the Brazilian bombshell. I was a thick girl, a size 18 on a good day, and only five foot five. Thankfully I carried it all in my tits and my ass. I sucked in my tummy and pushed out my chest as I stared back at myself. I did have a nice tiny waist. For a big girl.

  It was eight am. I was dressed and ready to go and so I set into my routine of spending the next half hour helping my mother get up, getting her comfortable in the kitchen with her morning cup of tea, the newspaper, and her toasted bagel with cream cheese. My aunt Teresa always came by in the mornings to tidy up and help my mom run a bath and dress, until by about half past noon, when she was limber and able enough to be semi-self-sufficient until bed time. It all worked out just fine – for the time being. I never tried to think too far ahead, it only scared me.

  The work day dragged by so slowly. I noticed the city workers had finished working on the water-main break. The street outside The Rock was slick and wet, but clean. I did wonder all morning if he had meant what he’d said to me. That he would make a point of seeing me today – whatever it took.

  Jeannine knocked me out of my daydreams. “Hey Gab – I’m gonna head next door to grab lunch today, wanna join me?”

  I was so tempted. As badly as I wanted to see him, I knew I had to resist. I had pushed enough with my cyber-stalking the previous night.

  “You go ahead,” I said. “I brought a sandwich today...”

  Ω

  By mid-afternoon I was far too restles
s – and a little disappointed – but I knew how busy the restaurant got so I tried to stay optimistic. I stepped into the back alley for a smoke break. I didn’t smoke that much, but restlessness – along with obsessive crushes on members of the opposite sex – always did it to me.

  But as soon as I lit up and took a deep drag I froze in my spot as I heard the back door to the restaurant swing open. And sure enough, there he was. It always happened that way. Men I was desperately attracted to caught me in my bad habit the first chance they had.

  He looked so gorgeous in his white chef coat and old faded jeans. He tossed a few cardboard vegetable boxes into the recycling bin and then raised a suspicious eyebrow, turning to me.

  “Bad girl.” Of course. He had to say it.

  I smiled, rolling my eyes slightly. “Yeah, you got me.”

  He took a few steps back in my direction. “So how you doin’?”

  I nodded. “Great. It’s beautiful today...so bright and sunny...just had to step out and enjoy it.”

  Ben smiled that smile at me and then turned to look out at the alley and the two dumpsters staring back at us. “It’s quite the view...” He turned back to me then. “Mine is better though.”

  I gave him a puzzled look. “Where?”

  He didn’t take his eyes off me. “Right here.”

  I felt my face flush. “You’re making me blush,” I admitted. I took a little self-conscious drag off my cigarette.

  He raised his eyebrows. “I can see that...so how did you sleep?”

  “Like a baby.” I smiled back at him. “What about you?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Never enough...”

  I needed to change the subject. “So how’s business? Make up for yesterday yet?”

  “Gettin’ there.” He leaned back against the wall behind him. “So I miss you at lunch today – I made you something special.”

  My eyes went wide. “Me? Really? You didn’t say anything...”

  “Yeah I know...I just felt a bit inspired so I made some Jamaican feijoada.”