ME & THE MONSTER

Ben

Ben was already seated at our booked table at La Piazza when I dashed inside.

"Sorry I'm late," I said, flopping down opposite him, panting. "My mum wouldn't let go of me."

Ben sipped at his wine, mild disapproval on his features. 

"Mm. Nothing wrong, I hope?"

He was dressed in a designer shirt that would have kept me fed for an entire year, and his beige hair was combed and slicked back. He looked as though he were part of the restaurant's expensive furniture, smooth, well-oiled, and perfectly lifeless.

"Oh, no. Everything's all right," I said. "She just insisted on showing me how to run the, er, family, er, business."

"Family business? I didn't know your family ran a business."

At that moment the waiter materialised by our side and set down a couple of steaming dishes. I looked at Ben, bewildered.

"Oh, yes, I took the liberty of ordering for the two of us," he said, smiling his beige smile. "Gorgonzola gnocchi for me, spaghetti with veggies for you. Both are my favourites, so we can share, eh?"

His favourites. I could feel my temper flaring.

"You could've waited for me, you know," I said. "I would've chosen something different."

"Rae, we would still be agonising over where to have dinner if it were for you, my beauty. And do me a favour and try your spaghetti, eh? Veggies are good for you. Besides, you want to watch your figure," he said, in cloying tones, and he leaned over and patted my head.

He actually patted my head, as though I were an unruly Golden Retriever.

Had he really said that? And why was I sitting frozen on the spot like a good little doll, not even able to muster a response?

"What was I saying?" Ben asked, scooping up a spoonful of gnocchi.

"My family business," I said, and hated myself for it. I stabbed at a piece of tomato as if I had a personal grudge against it.

Shit, why hadn't I retorted anything before? Why did I always find it so hard to stand up for myself?

It was pathetic. I was pathetic.

"Nah," Ben said, with a deprecating wave of the hand, and then I hated him. "I was just about to explain to you the latest architectural techniques that are being developed in Eastern countries. It's really fascinating, because –"

He launched into a decidedly un-fascinating monologue.

I put down my fork. I looked at Ben Davies, really looked at him.

With the force of a bullet train, it hit me.

What the actual Hell was I doing here?

I slipped out a handful of notes from my handbag and flung them down on the table.

Ben, irritated to be cut off in mid-monologue, rose an eyebrow.

"Rae? Is something the matter?"

"Yes, actually, there is," I said, and got to my feet. "Everything."

"What? What's the matter? Rae, sit down again this instant, you're showing me up," he hissed.

"Sorry, Ben. You'll have to deal with that yourself."

I scraped my chair back, making a  satisfactory screeching noise that caused a handful of well-dressed clients to turn and stare in my direction.

"Rae, don't be so childish."

"Thanks for everything, Ben. It's been fun," I said. "Sort of. And, just to make things clear, I'm not your beauty."

I walked out of the restaurant without looking back. And then I fished out my phone from my pocket, took a deep breath, and dialled Kal Mellketh's number.