“Is there something wrong?” Ben asked.
“Wrong?”
“You’re… um…” His brow lowered and he gestured toward his mouth. “You have a little something… uh…”
She brought her hand up to her mouth and felt something wet. And foamy.
Oh, my God, she thought. I’m foaming at the mouth!
She brought a cloth napkin up to her face and wiped, which took care of the foam and all of her lipstick. More foam immediately surged forward.
“I must be allergic to something in the pasta,” she said, her voice muffled by the napkin and the continuing stream of disgusting foam pouring out of her mouth.
“Yeah,” Darrak replied. “It was all the salt you put on it. Like I said, not a good combo. Now I’m feeling extremely dehydrated.”
“Excuse me, Ben.” She got up from the table and quickly made a beeline to the restroom. The mirror confirmed she looked like a rabid hound from Hell. She rinsed out her mouth with water until the foam stopped flowing freely. It took a while.
When it was taken care of she glared at her reflection. The restroom was otherwise empty. “That wasn’t funny.”
“Wasn’t my fault. I warned you.”
“You didn’t tell me what would happen.”
“Then consider this a lesson in what not to do when you’re possessed by a demon. No salt, even out of a shaker. Bad. Very bad. Imagine what would happen with tons of the stuff.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Salt is used to either trap a demon or keep the demon out of places.”
“How does it work?”
“What do I look like, a walking encyclopedia? I don’t know. It just does. I’ve never seen anyone possessed eat it and get that particular and oddly entertaining result though. I guess you’re just special.”
“So you didn’t do that on purpose to make me look stupid?” she asked, feeling her anger quickly slipping away.
“Why would I want you to look stupid?”
“It’s just…” Eden studied her reflection in the bank of mirrors set into the blue-tiled wall. “You said you’d help me out a lot more than you have. I feel like all you’ve been doing is sitting back tonight and heckling the performance. That wasn’t exactly our deal, was it?”
There was a long silence. “You’re absolutely right. And I’m sorry. I had every intention of helping, but…”
“But what?”
“I don’t like golden boy.”
“His name is Ben.”
“Whatever. I don’t like him so I am having a hard time helping because of that.”
“What don’t you like about him?”
“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
She frowned. “The way he looks at me? How does he look at me?”
“Like he wants to have sex with you.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Don’t you see it? He was undressing you with his eyes.”
“I’m actually okay with that.”
“Now I’m grateful you decided against the red dress. That was much more alluring than this blue abomination.”
“Look, Darrak,” she studied her reflection. “I like him. I like him a lot. And I really want tonight to go well. I want Ben to be a part of my future so I don’t want to scare him off with any strange behavior. Please. I promised to help you and you promised to help me. And how can you be so cruel after everything he’s been through?”
“Yeah. And the fact he’d bring up a dead fiancée during a first date doesn’t strike you as a play to get the sympathy vote? Women love a good sob story. Five years without dating anyone. Sure. I believe it.”
“Darrak!”
“Sorry,” he said, sullenly. “I’ll behave myself. It just won’t be easy. And I’m still going to call him golden boy.”
“You can call him whatever you want. Just try to be nice.”
She heard a toilet flush and her back stiffened. She’d thought they were alone. Slowly the stall behind Eden opened up and a blond woman emerged. She looked confused.
“Oh, I thought maybe you were on your cell phone,” she said. “But were you just talking to yourself?”
Eden gave her a frozen smile. “Bad habit.”
“Okay.” She cleared her throat nervously. “None of my business, of course, but I have a wonderful therapist. If you want her card, I have some extras in my purse.”
“Not necessary. Really.”
“If you say so.” She washed her hands and then dried them on the pyramid-shaped stack of folded towels on the counter. “Have a nice evening.”
“Yeah, you, too.”
The woman left with a last concerned glance over her shoulder.
Eden looked into the mirror and shifted her purse to her other shoulder. “People think I’m insane.”
“Maybe you are. Maybe I don’t exist and I’m just a figment of your psychotic imagination.”
“I wish.”