The Fortune Cookie -- PG-13 (Beth and Josh)
Posted: Sun Aug 21, 2011 8:40 pm
I know, I know…the “Between the Fire and the Fountain” Challenge was a long time ago. Consider this a very late entry…
And, yes, I intend no infringement. Really.
The Fortune Cookie
Beth looked at the table in dismay. Josh had insisted on ordering all of her favorites; the table was covered, and they were going to have enough leftovers to last for a week. Or rather, she was. He didn’t like the spicy stuff, like Kung Pao Chicken, the way she did, and his disgusted reaction to the thousand-year-old egg was almost comical. He was much more of Moo Goo Gai Pan kind of guy, or maybe sweet and sour pork, when he was feeling particularly adventurous. Yet here they sat, an array of the spiciest dishes on the menu of the Empress Pavilion spread out between them. It was endearing, and annoying at the same time.
“Oh, Josh, you really shouldn’t have,” she protested.
He smiled at her, his startlingly blue eyes alight, his handsome face suffused with pride. “You deserve it, what with the new job and all. I thought we’d celebrate.” He lifted his glass of chilled white wine. “To Beth Turner, newest online reporter for Buzzwire.com.”
“Well, I haven’t actually done any webcasts yet.” But she smiled back at him, and took a sip from her own glass. It was a nice wine, cool and crisp, although she might have preferred a red. Something with a little more tannic bite.
“It’ll happen,” he said with assurance. “Maybe tomorrow, maybe tonight.”
Beth really did have to appreciate his support. It hadn’t been easy, breaking into the ranks of the live reporters. She’d spent almost two years, doing background research and writing. Now, it was all down to waiting for Maureen to call. She took another sip of wine. “Let’s make it a toast to all the cases you’re going to win, too. Arms dealers and drug lords, beware!”
Josh beamed. He was proud of what he did, too. She knew he believed in how important it was to make a difference in the world. It was one of the things that had attracted her to him. He might be a little too—conventional, a little too buttoned down, for her sometimes, but she always admired his dedication to his work. How could she not?
All her friends said they were the perfect couple. The handsome young ADA, the clever, pretty reporter. She supposed that sooner or later they’d marry, settle into a house in some nice area of L. A. County, Glendale, maybe, and raise the requisite 2.4 kids. Or whatever the average was, these days. It all sounded idyllic.
It all sounded—and she hated to admit it, even to herself—boring. She wanted to be Christiane Amanpour, not June Cleaver.
They ate in companionable silence for awhile, passing dishes back and forth across the table, although she noticed Josh was tending more to the steamed rice than the Dragon and Phoenix.
“You really should have gotten something you like,” Beth commented.
Josh helped himself to a small spoonful of Salt and Pepper Shrimp, and shrugged. “It’s your celebration, tonight. And this is good.”
Beth reached across the table impulsively, and laid a hand on his. “You know you hate it. You’re just too nice sometimes, Josh.”
“Well, I did want to talk to you about something, Beth.” Josh was looking earnest, and she knew what he was about to bring up—again. “We’ve been dating almost a year, now.”
“Not quite eleven months.”
“Close enough. Anyway, don’t you think it’s time we moved in together?”
“We spend three nights out of four together as it is.”
“Right. So why not make it official?”
It was reasonable. He was reasonable. She hated arguing with a lawyer. There wasn’t anyone else in the picture, so why did she feel so strongly that she needed to keep her options open, just a little bit? She was looking around, anywhere but at Josh’s expectant face, while she tried to formulate an answer that wouldn’t hurt his feelings, when something caught her eye.
“Josh. There’s that guy again.”
“What guy?” He was caught off guard by her sudden change of topic.
“You know, the one we always see here.” She gestured with her head towards a small table, where a middle-aged, professorial-looking type sat with a teapot and a small plate in front of him, reading a journal, and making the occasional note in a small leather notebook. “He’s always here, and he always has a pot of tea, and a pork bun, and I’ve never seen him take a bite, or a drink. It’s creepy.”
Josh glanced around. “Oh, that guy. Maybe he has a digestive problem or something.”
“Yeah, but then why keep buying pork buns?”
“Maybe he likes the smell. Maybe they remind him of his childhood. How the hell would I know, Beth?” There was the slightest edge in his voice, signifying that he knew she was trying to dodge the subject. Across the room, the tweedy man looked up, suddenly, almost as though he’d heard their conversation, and Beth looked down, embarrassed to be caught staring. She didn’t see him gather his belongings hurriedly, and slip out of the dining room.
She sighed, and made herself look Josh straight in the eye. “I’m just not ready yet, sweetie. I promise, I’ll let you know.”
Josh’s face fell into serious lines, what Beth thought of as his assistant district attorney look. “You need to make up your mind, Beth. We need to move forward.”
She nodded. “I know, Josh, and I promise—”
Her words were interrupted by the arrival of a waiter bearing a small tray with the check, and two fortune cookies. Josh took it from the waiter and held it out to her, so she could select a cookie.
Following a ritual she and her mother had adopted when she was a small child, Beth muttered, “Guardian angel, guide my hand,” before choosing one of the small cellophane-wrapped pastries. She held it for a few moments, while Josh tore open his own cookie.
“What’s your fortune say?” she asked as she opened hers.
Josh glanced at the slip of paper in his hand. “The usual nonsense. ‘You will soon embark on a journey of destiny.’ How about you?”
“ ‘A dark, mysterious man will change your future.’ “
“Well, that must be me.”
Beth crinkled her nose, smiling at him. She couldn’t help thinking, though, as they left the restaurant and headed back to her place, that Josh was about the least mysterious man she knew.
For one thing, she thought with a mental roll of her eyes, he was going to be restless all night after eating spicy Chinese food.
And sure enough, his tossing and turning kept her awake, so that when the phone rang just after 1 a.m., she was glad.
As she expected, it was her editor, Maureen. “Beth, I’ve got an assignment for you. They found a body in the fountain outside the Pacific Design Center. Steve’ll meet you there in 20 with the camera gear.”
“We’re going to webcast?”
“You’re ready. And you’re on, so get moving.”
As she grabbed clothing out of the closet, her mind was racing. Even before knowing anything, she was planning what to say, how to say it. Her chance at last. This was it.
Josh barely stirred as she slipped out the door, and went to meet the future.
And, yes, I intend no infringement. Really.
The Fortune Cookie
Beth looked at the table in dismay. Josh had insisted on ordering all of her favorites; the table was covered, and they were going to have enough leftovers to last for a week. Or rather, she was. He didn’t like the spicy stuff, like Kung Pao Chicken, the way she did, and his disgusted reaction to the thousand-year-old egg was almost comical. He was much more of Moo Goo Gai Pan kind of guy, or maybe sweet and sour pork, when he was feeling particularly adventurous. Yet here they sat, an array of the spiciest dishes on the menu of the Empress Pavilion spread out between them. It was endearing, and annoying at the same time.
“Oh, Josh, you really shouldn’t have,” she protested.
He smiled at her, his startlingly blue eyes alight, his handsome face suffused with pride. “You deserve it, what with the new job and all. I thought we’d celebrate.” He lifted his glass of chilled white wine. “To Beth Turner, newest online reporter for Buzzwire.com.”
“Well, I haven’t actually done any webcasts yet.” But she smiled back at him, and took a sip from her own glass. It was a nice wine, cool and crisp, although she might have preferred a red. Something with a little more tannic bite.
“It’ll happen,” he said with assurance. “Maybe tomorrow, maybe tonight.”
Beth really did have to appreciate his support. It hadn’t been easy, breaking into the ranks of the live reporters. She’d spent almost two years, doing background research and writing. Now, it was all down to waiting for Maureen to call. She took another sip of wine. “Let’s make it a toast to all the cases you’re going to win, too. Arms dealers and drug lords, beware!”
Josh beamed. He was proud of what he did, too. She knew he believed in how important it was to make a difference in the world. It was one of the things that had attracted her to him. He might be a little too—conventional, a little too buttoned down, for her sometimes, but she always admired his dedication to his work. How could she not?
All her friends said they were the perfect couple. The handsome young ADA, the clever, pretty reporter. She supposed that sooner or later they’d marry, settle into a house in some nice area of L. A. County, Glendale, maybe, and raise the requisite 2.4 kids. Or whatever the average was, these days. It all sounded idyllic.
It all sounded—and she hated to admit it, even to herself—boring. She wanted to be Christiane Amanpour, not June Cleaver.
They ate in companionable silence for awhile, passing dishes back and forth across the table, although she noticed Josh was tending more to the steamed rice than the Dragon and Phoenix.
“You really should have gotten something you like,” Beth commented.
Josh helped himself to a small spoonful of Salt and Pepper Shrimp, and shrugged. “It’s your celebration, tonight. And this is good.”
Beth reached across the table impulsively, and laid a hand on his. “You know you hate it. You’re just too nice sometimes, Josh.”
“Well, I did want to talk to you about something, Beth.” Josh was looking earnest, and she knew what he was about to bring up—again. “We’ve been dating almost a year, now.”
“Not quite eleven months.”
“Close enough. Anyway, don’t you think it’s time we moved in together?”
“We spend three nights out of four together as it is.”
“Right. So why not make it official?”
It was reasonable. He was reasonable. She hated arguing with a lawyer. There wasn’t anyone else in the picture, so why did she feel so strongly that she needed to keep her options open, just a little bit? She was looking around, anywhere but at Josh’s expectant face, while she tried to formulate an answer that wouldn’t hurt his feelings, when something caught her eye.
“Josh. There’s that guy again.”
“What guy?” He was caught off guard by her sudden change of topic.
“You know, the one we always see here.” She gestured with her head towards a small table, where a middle-aged, professorial-looking type sat with a teapot and a small plate in front of him, reading a journal, and making the occasional note in a small leather notebook. “He’s always here, and he always has a pot of tea, and a pork bun, and I’ve never seen him take a bite, or a drink. It’s creepy.”
Josh glanced around. “Oh, that guy. Maybe he has a digestive problem or something.”
“Yeah, but then why keep buying pork buns?”
“Maybe he likes the smell. Maybe they remind him of his childhood. How the hell would I know, Beth?” There was the slightest edge in his voice, signifying that he knew she was trying to dodge the subject. Across the room, the tweedy man looked up, suddenly, almost as though he’d heard their conversation, and Beth looked down, embarrassed to be caught staring. She didn’t see him gather his belongings hurriedly, and slip out of the dining room.
She sighed, and made herself look Josh straight in the eye. “I’m just not ready yet, sweetie. I promise, I’ll let you know.”
Josh’s face fell into serious lines, what Beth thought of as his assistant district attorney look. “You need to make up your mind, Beth. We need to move forward.”
She nodded. “I know, Josh, and I promise—”
Her words were interrupted by the arrival of a waiter bearing a small tray with the check, and two fortune cookies. Josh took it from the waiter and held it out to her, so she could select a cookie.
Following a ritual she and her mother had adopted when she was a small child, Beth muttered, “Guardian angel, guide my hand,” before choosing one of the small cellophane-wrapped pastries. She held it for a few moments, while Josh tore open his own cookie.
“What’s your fortune say?” she asked as she opened hers.
Josh glanced at the slip of paper in his hand. “The usual nonsense. ‘You will soon embark on a journey of destiny.’ How about you?”
“ ‘A dark, mysterious man will change your future.’ “
“Well, that must be me.”
Beth crinkled her nose, smiling at him. She couldn’t help thinking, though, as they left the restaurant and headed back to her place, that Josh was about the least mysterious man she knew.
For one thing, she thought with a mental roll of her eyes, he was going to be restless all night after eating spicy Chinese food.
And sure enough, his tossing and turning kept her awake, so that when the phone rang just after 1 a.m., she was glad.
As she expected, it was her editor, Maureen. “Beth, I’ve got an assignment for you. They found a body in the fountain outside the Pacific Design Center. Steve’ll meet you there in 20 with the camera gear.”
“We’re going to webcast?”
“You’re ready. And you’re on, so get moving.”
As she grabbed clothing out of the closet, her mind was racing. Even before knowing anything, she was planning what to say, how to say it. Her chance at last. This was it.
Josh barely stirred as she slipped out the door, and went to meet the future.