Ironically, for someone named after the jolly emotion, Joy is quite sad. But justifiably, she hasn't really had much reason to squeal in happiness these days. Stuck in a job she hates with responsibilities so paramount she feels asphyxiated on a goo...
Las Vegas was a lot like New York: maddening traffic, blinding lights and enough noise to wake the dead.
I was astonished when Daniel revealed that he, himself, had never been to Vegas before either. But this discovery only proved to fuel the excitement, knowing that we'd experience this first together. We drove with the windows down the entire commute from the airport to Planet Hollywood. The three of us uh-ed and ah-ed at everything in sight, as if we were foetuses to society.
Everything was brilliant and spectacular and shiny, and I felt like a child again for the first time in a long time. For the first time in seven years.
We made no stops on the way, though Odette begged and I tried some gentle coaxing with a suggestive nudge and what I hoped was a persuasive smile. Danny shook his head, and though he was firm, I could tell by the softness in his eyes that he was disinclined to refuse us.
"We can't, we'll miss our reservation. After," he promised. His gentle reassurance was enough to tide us over. After all, he had already proved he was one to be taken at his word.
When we finally arrived, there was a line at the door. One Danny pretended not to see and bypassed entirely as if he owned the dämn establishment. Odette skipped along beside him, her hand in his, pleased to be catered to like a VIP. I followed a bit more hesitant, with my eyes cast to the floor, painfully aware of the death glares lazering into the back of my skull by the other patrons forced to wait behind.
"Come on Joy, pick up the pace." He slowed his stride and extended his hand for me to take, tugging me along.
I heard him proclaim his name to the host and just like that, we were seated in probably thirty seconds, max.
It was loud on the inside. So much so that I almost couldn't differentiate between the atmosphere here versus on the strip. But the smell made up for the ruckus. There is no way to accurately describe the delectable aroma but to liken it to foodie heaven, because no place on earth could have ever smelt so divine.
When I finally looked up to truly take the place in, it was with surprise that I realized that it was vastly different from what I had envisioned. For one, it was closer to a bistro or pub more than anything fine-dining. I was relieved to have opted for comfort with my knee length, yellow spaghetti strapped sundress and wedge heels in opposed to something fancier. I didn't quite pass for casual, but I didn't stick out like a sore thumb either. Odette and Daniel looked far more at home. She matched me in a sundress but hers was a bit shorter and white, with capped sleeves and gladiator sandals. He had on a white dress shirt and jeans, untucked. And when he sat down, he unbuttoned his jacket and threw it over the back of his chair.
There was a line of beer kegs encased in glass and flat screen TVs, but what held my attention was the massive glass panel plastered with the face of a beaming blonde Scott's man in a white chef's jacket. He stood with both arms raised, almost to his cheeks. As if mum had just told the strapping chap he could have a second slice of Sheperd's pie and the poor lad could barely bloody believe it.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
In an instant it all made sense. The name, everything.
Hello Mr Ramsay.
"He doesn't have any restaurants in New York we could have gone to?" I thoughtlessly interrupted their dialogue. I hadn't been paying much attention to take much note of the topic of conversation anyway.
"I saw this place on a Worth It episode on YouTube, and I knew one day I'd be here. I don't even have to look at the menu. I already know what I want." She didn't even have the grace to look sheepish. She was clearly extremely proud of herself.
As her mother, I wasn't sure how to feel. On one hand I was proud of her cunning. I had birthed a clever girl with admirable determination. She knew what she wanted; her goals were crystal clear. How many people do you know had established a clear career path at seven, with zero plans to venture off course? I was twenty-four and still unsure of myself.
On the other hand, I couldn't help but feel that this came across a bit manipulative in it's execution. I watched her fall back into easy conversation with Daniel. Though they interacted like they had known each others for years and not hours, the truth still remained that Odette did not know him. Hell, I didn't know him really- not to say he had proved himself to be untrustworthy but still. To her, he was a stranger. A stranger who had offered her anything. This made me worry about strange men in vans using candy as bait.
Perhaps I wasn't being fair. After all, I was the one that had introduced them, and with my involvement came the assurance of safety. I was the one who had encouraged her to take advantage of the opportunity. Mainly because, admittedly, she didn't get many treats. There weren't many chances for her to receive such an experience without the influence of some external force.
We weren't wallowing in poverty but we did struggle at times to get by. I never felt the need to shield her from such a reality. Life is hard. No matter how bad you have it, there is someone else who has it worse. I made it a point to teach her these life lessons, just as my mother had taught me. That way she'd be appreciative of the things she did have.
Considering this, I understood why she had stretched so high, asked for so much. Reach for the stars they say, and if you fall, you'll land among clouds.
"And the one in France you mentioned last night, 'd Agent' or whatever," I cut in for the second time, "He owns that one too?"
"Yup."
At least she had enough of a conscience to keep her request continental US.
•••
Y'all realize something? Half of this book is set in restaurants. Must be the inner foodie inside me crying out for help.
Vote. Comment. Share. Complain about how shitty I am for making you guys wait. Sowwy, working. Love you all! I'll try to get the next one out faster.
