Free Soul Mate (The Mating Series) by S. Swan Page A

spinach chicken. I know how you love that dip you get at the store.” Everything he said made me feel passé. It sounded like he meant: “You eat that store bought crap, but I eat the real stuff.”
    “I do like spinach and artichoke dip ,” I said.
    “You’re uncomfortable , aren’t you?” he asked.
    “No.”
    “Cassie, we can go somewhere else,” Jimmy said. “I thought you wanted to come here.”
    “I did, but I suddenly feel outmoded like Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion.”
    “For you to even make that analogy means you’re not outmoded .” He laughed. “Cassie, I like you for you. I don’t want some shallow hipster.” Jimmy gestured referring to a woman seated across the room. Her smile was force. She appeared as if she smelled something bad. Her salon hair and manicured nails did nothing to hide her superficial demeanor. “Honestly, we live in the Indiana, not London. These people are hacks, pretending they live somewhere else.”
    I felt better. “Are you a hack too?” I asked.
    “Certainly,” Jimmy said, “how do you think I’ve built up such an A-list clientele? I move in their circles and I’m a hack like them.” He clasped my hand. “You’re the genuine thing. Don’t let these fakes get to you.” 
    Our meals arrived. Jimmy was right , I did enjoy the chicken. I enjoyed it so much that I ate part of his too. The food tasted delicious, but sized equivalent to a McDonalds Happy Meal. Obviously, Jimmy ate a bigger lunch. He barely took a bite before I snatched his plate away. It may not be chic to eat two plates of food, but I wasn’t a waifish model wannabe.
    Jimmy drank a dry martini as he watched me eat like a farm hand. “Do you want a drink ?” he asked.
    “Sure, what do you recommend?”
    “Do you want something hard or sweet?” Jimmy asked.
    “Sweet ,” I said.
    Jimmy called the waiter by snapping his fingers. I noticed others doing it , and considered it rude. I didn’t understand this mod etiquette, but he did. Jimmy didn’t wait for the maître d' to speak. “Get this lady a Dr. Seuss,” he said. The man promptly disappeared without a word.
    “Is it chic to be rude?” I asked Jimmy, chastising him for his discourtesy to server. I didn’t know the cool Jimmy. I didn’t like him. My Jimmy was sweet and courteous.
    “It is ,” Jimmy said, smartly. “I do it to fit in.” He reminded me.
    Seconds later, the server appeared with an insane looking drink in a huge martini glass. The glass stem bent back and forth in an angular pattern. Aqua blue liquid resembled the Cat in the Hat book . A red and white striped straw came out and jig-jagged all around the glass. Unquestionably, the drink mimicked its namesake.
    I looked at the monstrosity in front of me. “I feel like reciting Green Eggs & Ham ,” I said.
    “Trust me, you’ll love it ,” Jimmy said.
    I closed my eyes and took a small sip. Delicious! I took a bigger sip, then another, and another. Before I knew it, my drink disappeared. “I want another!” I shouted.
    “Oh no,” Jimmy said, “that drink has eight different alcohols in it and it creeps up on you.”
    “Creeps up on you?” I asked. It tasted like Kool-Aid.
    “You’ll know what I mean when you stand up,” Jimmy said. “We both have work tomorrow. I don’t want to be up all night holding your hair while you puke.” Once, Jimmy and I spent several hours on his veranda drinking shots of tequila. After about eight shots, I became violently ill. Jimmy, bless him, spent the entire night taking care of me as I puked my guts up in his toilet. That night I fell in love with Jimmy Kim. It’s true love when a man holds your hair while you puke.
    “You’re status has elevated to boyfriend so you don’t have to sit up all night holding my hair. That’s reserved for just friends ,” I said, a little tipsy.
    “If I’d known that I wouldn’t have delayed our relationship!” Jimmy laughed. I loved when Jimmy laughed. My heart skipped a