Free Sushi for One? by Camy Tang Page A

price as the U.S.” He beamed at her in friendliness mingled with pity.
    She wondered how she could dispose of his body.
    George was begging to get decked. With a two-by-four. Or maybe the aluminum baseball bat Lex kept in her car trunk. She’d forgotten to include on the List: Must never mention body parts, or else risk decapitation. They hadn’t even gotten their appetizers yet. He’d ruined her entire evening and she wouldn’t get dinner.
    She was starving. She wanted crab.
    No, she would walk out on him, breathe fresh air, clear her head, shake the dust from her shoes.
    Or she could endure the evening and stick him with the bill. This place didn’t exactly have McDonalds’ prices.
    Escape or revenge?
    Freedom or suffering?
    Peanut butter sandwiches or garlic roasted crab?
    A steaming plate appeared in front of Lex — the crab wontons, nestled in a lettuce leaf. Blond deep-fried dumplings.
    Maybe she’d walk out without braining George . . .
    Another waiter swept past their table holding two platters of Crustaceans’ signature entrée. Rich, briny crab. Nutty brown butter. Lex’s stomach growled. “Let’s just finish dinner.” Granted, it came out sounding a bit strangled.
    George smiled and tucked his napkin into his shirt collar.
    Lex paused as she settled her napkin in her lap.
    Her look must have clued him in, because he stiffened his shoulders. “This shirt cost me three hundred dollars and the tie is Ermene-gildo Zegna. I’m not getting it dirty. Do you know how much good dry-cleaning costs?”
    Why was she surprised by anything that came out of his mouth by now? Just eat and leave.
    As Lex pierced a wonton with her fork, its bubbled surface flaked pastry onto the stainless steel tines. She brought it to her mouth. The outer shell crunched against her teeth while the satiny, cheesy filling melted on her tongue. A ribbon of sweetness from the fresh crab lingered in her mouth.
    Aaaaaahhhhhh . . .
    George bit into a wonton with relish. “I had a girlfriend who could make these.”
    Lex bit her tongue. The pain made her start and drop her fork with a clatter against the porcelain plate.
    Her next wonton didn’t taste so divine.
    He looked like he would expound on his master-chef-ex-girlfriend as soon as he finished chewing. She needed a tangent. “Do you cook?”
    “I make a jambalaya that women swoon over . . .”
    Could the man ever say something that didn’t involve other females? Lex listened with half an ear to his masterful feats of culinary genius. At least getting their food meant that he didn’t talk as much.
    The Caesar salad arrived, aromatic with garlic, studded with caramel-colored anchovies. The crisp lettuce popped in her mouth with freshness. The perfect balance for the wontons, and a way to ready her palate for the crab to come. The dressing sizzled with hot pepper, tangy vinegar, creamy mayo, and bright lemons.
    George cut into an anchovy. “Salads are a great way to lose weight.”
    That was random. “Um-hm.” Just keep chewing, Georgy-boy, so I don’t have to listen to you.
    “But you need exercise too. Increase muscle mass, increase metabolism.”
    Where was he going with this? Lex cleared her throat. “How often do you work out?”
    “Three times a week minimum, but I try to make it more often.”
    Lex did a discreet appraisal. Not a powerhouse, but not flabby. He probably only made it to the gym twice a week on average. She sighed. She and George didn’t even have athleticism in common, because she worked out much more than he did. “Do you play sports?”
    George swallowed a bite. “I’m taking kickboxing right now. You should try it, it’s fun.”
    On the volleyball court, she didn’t mind getting bruises and floor burns on her body, but blows to the head wigged her out. Kickboxing? No, thank you. “Mm-hm.”
    “It’s great exercise. You’d tone your body a bit.”
    Uneasiness and suspicion caused a prickling at the back of her eyeballs and a humming along