Drawn to You by Vivien Natalie

Author:Vivien, Natalie [Vivien, Natalie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Rose and Star Press
Published: 2014-01-14T05:00:00+00:00

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Juliette lifts the tea towel from my plate with all the flourish of a chef revealing her signature dish. “Dinner, mademoiselle, is served.” She smiles at me expectantly, waving her hand over the food Vanna White-style and watching my face for a reaction.

“Um…” I lift my brows and bite my bottom lip—a delaying tactic. Because I’m so shocked by the sight before me that my brain has forgotten how to form words.

“What do you think, baby?”

“I…think…you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. Just a little recipe I brought back from Paris. This is my first time attempting escargot—can you believe it? It looks just like the stuff in the restaurants, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t really know,” I answer quietly, closing my eyes halfway and willing my stomach to stop gurgling—to no avail. “Juliette, you know I don’t eat meat—”

“But snails aren’t meat! They’re just…snails. Hey, imagine they’re made of tofu. They’re squishy like tofu. And I had to beg a delivery boy from that posh grocery store across town to deliver them on credit. It was a major headache. Anyway, don’t you want to expand your horizons, mature your taste palate? Baby, all you’ve got in the cupboard is oatmeal, for God’s sake. Live a little!”

I regard the four coiled shells on my plate for a moment, ignoring their gushy insides, and swallow the urge to vomit my lunch—which consisted of an apple from the break room fruit basket, half of Georgie’s egg salad sandwich, and some stale, tepid coffee.

I offer Juliette a pained smile. “I appreciate the effort. You went above and beyond my expectations. And, I think, my kitchen utensils’ capabilities. But I just can’t…” I swallow again, wincing. “I just can’t, okay?”

“Okay. Whatever, Molly,” she says, her tone as cold as ice. “But this stuff is expensive; I won’t let it go to waste.” Then, staring hard into my eyes, Juliette begins to pick up the snails from my plate one by one and suck out their goopy insides.

With exaggerated slurpiness.

I cover my mouth with one hand and grip my stomach with the other, but my eyes, full moon-wide, are fixed; they simply refuse to look away.

“Yummmmm….” she groans with ecstasy. “You’re really missing out here. They’re so soft and tender… So wet.”

My head falls onto the table, and I cover my ears with my hands.

“Oh, please, Molly. Okay, coast is clear. I’m all done,” Juliette declares dryly, tapping me on the head after a few moments have passed.

Sighing, I sit up and suppress a shudder.

She takes the empty plate over to the sink and throws it in so hard that it shatters against the ceramic basin. I leap to my feet and edge back, gaping at the shards, narrowing my brows.

My head is throbbing; my vision blurs. Juliette looks like an out-of-focus Marilyn Monroe—after she just got a really, really bad performance review.

“Was that necessary?” I splutter. “I mean, what—why—”

“Sorry. I’m just a butter fingers today,” Juliette says with an unsettling grin, half-angry and half-sweet. “I’ll buy you a new plate when I land a role.

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