Chapter Seventeen

The Where’s the Beef Ladies

Darius led me toward one of the back-alley buildings, and I glanced at the limo driver, who was now back in the car, fiddling with his phone, no longer paying attention to us. Darius pulled open the heavy, windowless door. The sound of forks hitting plates cut through the tinkling of adult contemporary Muzak, and people bustled about inside, filling up trays and calling for more food.

“This is a…cafeteria?” I said, taking in the scene, feeling a sense of confusion and relief.

“It is,” Darius said proudly. “A few years ago, diner chic was the thing. Now the hot trend is college cafeteria gourmet.”

“Cool…” It really did have all the trappings of a dormitory mess. We even had to check in at the front desk with an ID card, which Darius happened to have.

“This is the golden ticket.” After the hostess checked us in, Darius fanned the card in the air, blowing on it as if it were on fire. “Hardly anyone has their hands on one of these babies.”

I glanced at the round tables of eight. “Is this… Do we have to do communal dining?” I’d come here to get to know Darius, not have to make small talk with six strangers.

Darius smiled at me with a twinkle in his eye. “Nope. I told you I can get us in to all the VIP spots in Chicago. Jam is no exception. Follow me.”

Excited and hungry butterflies danced in my stomach as Darius led me toward a room filled with a huge buffet. I grabbed a tray off the end of a conveyor belt and showed it to Darius. “I think the owners took these straight out of one of Northwestern’s cafeterias, around the turn of the century.”

Darius chuckled. “Entirely possible.”

Inside the buffet room, I found a veritable circus of food and drink and novelty. All of the cafeteria workers wore stylized uniforms from the 1950s, but each station was stocked with gourmet vittles and fancy confections. There was a seafood station with artfully designed sushi in every color of the rainbow, plus caviar, lobster, smoked salmon, and king crab legs. I passed by a salad bar filled with daikon radishes, heirloom tomatoes, Spanish olives, and Stilton.

“Oh my gosh.” I paused in front of the cereal wall.

The chef had made his own versions of everything from Life to Lucky Charms. A milk dispenser offered whole cow’s milk, sheep’s milk, oat milk, or almond milk.

“This is…amazing.” I felt like one of those kids in Willy Wonka’s factory. My eyes were too big for my stomach.

“Grab whatever you want,” Darius told me as he passed by. “Normally they ring you up à la carte, but our entire meal has been comped.”

Comped. Damn. I really could get used to this.

I scanned the room, my tummy rumbling for food. Back in college, I would’ve gone for something like a small side salad, a turkey sandwich, and a banana. Those things were all on the table tonight, but the sliced turkey came from a free-range bird, the gluten-free bread had been baked lovingly on-site, and the cheddar had been aged for ten years at a small monastery in Wisconsin.

Finally, because comped, I picked out lobster tail, some roasted Jersey Giant asparagus covered in aged balsamic, a massive chocolate chip cookie dusted with pink Himalayan sea salt, and some white wine. Rung up, my plate would have been almost one hundred and fifty dollars. “Well, I guess that’s how they stay in business.”

Darius passed his magic ID card to the checkout clerk, who let us pass through without paying. “People don’t mind shelling out for a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

“I suppose not,” I said. “My mom and dad paid for me to have this experience seven days a week back in college.”

Darius laughed and motioned for me to follow him to a set of stairs toward the back of the room. “Our table awaits.”

The steps led up to a room with big glass windows that looked down on the diners below. There were only four tables in this VIP section, and only one other table was occupied. I paused at the window and gazed down at the crowd for a moment. “I’m not sure if we’re in the fishbowl or if they are.”

“Oh, them,” Darius said. “Definitely.”

At our table, I set down my tray. “I want to make some comment about class wars and the haves viewing the have-nots from a distance, but I’m just too happy not to have to share a table with a bunch of strangers.”

Darius chuckled. “I get it—believe me. If it eases your conscience, dining like this, away from people, is the only way I can eat in peace. Down there, we’d have to chat with people we don’t know, and as much as I love schmoozing new folks, I came here to get to know Annie.” He bit a piece of lettuce off his fork.

Grinning, I set my napkin on my lap. “Good, because I’m here to get to know you.” Things had gone quite well with Rob last night, and I had enjoyed the simplicity of the two of us lounging in my house, eating pizza, but this with Darius was new and exciting. I wasn’t hip enough to know about new restaurants. I wasn’t part of the Chicago “scene.” Darius could open up a whole new world for me. And maybe that was what I wanted for my forties and beyond.

I took a bite of my scrumptious lobster. “Since you’ve already interviewed me, I think it’s my turn to interview you.”

He set down his fork. “I agree.”

“Okay…” I narrowed my eyes. “Where are you from?”

“Ah.” He smiled. “My origin story. I’m from a very small town in Kentucky. We had a farm.”

“A farm? That’s so cool. I mean, I can’t quite imagine you milking goats in your fancy suit…” I waved my hand up and down to indicate his entire polished visage.

He chuckled. “I’ve got a special goat-milking suit.” He smiled warmly. “My hometown is actually how I got started with reporting, interviewing the business owners on the tiny Main Street in the town where I grew up, hence the name of my segment.”

“That’s really sweet,” I told him.

“There are many more adorable stories where that came from.” He flashed me a smile.

“I’d love to hear them.” Probably because he was a famous dude whose face was plastered on billboards all over the city, I thought I’d had Darius all figured out from the jump. But of course celebrities were more complex than their outward personae. I, of all people, should know that. I took their medical histories for a living. I knew about their vices and their sleep patterns and whether or not they were sexually active. “Okay…what were you like in high school?”

He tapped his chin, thinking. “Again, small town, so everyone did a bit of everything. I played some sports but really enjoyed choir and theater.” He snapped his fingers. “We should go see a play sometime.”

“Definitely. I’d love that.” I chewed a bit of asparagus. “In my office the other day, we talked a bit about our love lives—mostly about how difficult it is for us to date—but I’m wondering…have you ever been married? Or in love…?”

He shook his head, smiling, though his eyes had darkened mysteriously. “Let’s not dwell on the past.” Waving, he flagged down a waiter to ask for some salt.

My stomach sank. The two of us were talking about potentially spending our lives together. I didn’t think it was particularly out of bounds to ask about his dating history, but I supposed everyone had stuff they wanted to keep private. I focused on my food.

He squeezed my hand, and I looked up. “All I meant was that we’re both adults. I’m sure we’ve each had a number of relationships, good and bad. All of that is over and done, as far as I’m concerned.” His eyes widened. “I’m focused on the future. I’m looking for someone strong, mature, dependable, and willing to commit. Someone who enjoys good food.” Grinning, he raised his fork, which held a bite of steak.

I smiled back. “Focusing on the future sounds like a plan to me.” I watched him tuck into his food, with the notion that I might never actually get to know Darius. But who, honestly, really knew anyone? Darius and I were talking about being each other’s permanent plus-ones, not soul mates or best friends. I didn’t need to know every detail of his life, nor he mine.

I currently had a hot bartender and his pooch living in my basement. We all had our secrets, and maybe that was okay.