Roxy and the Chicken Carbonara
Look, I’m oblivious. Let’s get that out in the open right now. I’m ridiculously oblivious to the world around me, especially when it comes to women. I don’t generally believe there’s flirting going on, even when there is.
In retrospect, there probably was.
There’s a sandwich shop that I frequent locally for lunches here that features a funky Latina brunette behind the counter helping push things along. She’s a short-but-wild haired girl that’s attractive enough to not need the Tina Fey glasses, but works them beautifully anyway.
Her nametag says Roxy. I’m wondering if that’s like a stripper name.
I walked in during a lull in the late lunch rush, and was delighted to have Roxy as my personal sandwich consultant.
“Chicken Carbonara, regular, with no mushrooms please.”
She puts the bulk of the sandwich on the conveyor belt through the oven while I pay for my sub, chips, and fruit punch.
“Can I have lettuce on that, and a healthy bit of pepperoncini?”
She knew what I meant, I could tell. Still, she couldn’t resist.
“These peppers are healthy?” She was obviously playing dumb. Not that we need to talk about all the nitrates and salt present in the pickling process, but she was just needling me. “So, you want the
healthy peppers on your sandwich.”
I’m sure I was blushing. She gave me a wry smile, with an undercurrent pushing me to serve her up something she could playfully tee off on. God, I love a woman who challenges me.
“Uh, a healthy bit,” I started, uncertain as to where to go from here, “somewhere north of a few, stopping just a bit shy of a lot.”
“So, a
healthy bit of these peppers then, right?”
“Yeah, give me just enough to ruin my breath for the remainder of my day.”
I don’t know why I said that. I can be witty. Maybe even witty
and charming at times. Disarming? That, I tend to have a problem with. But I can be wry and amusing I guess. Not that I was here.
I took a few steps over to fill my fruit punch from the fountain, and she called over to me. “Is this enough for you?” I curled my lips up into a smile and nodded, just catching her acknowledging me with the “Isaac from ‘The Love Boat’” patented double finger shooter from the hip.
She wrapped up my sandwich, and I asked her if there was a bag behind the counter for me. She looked up at me and smiled and said she thought she could find one.
I got another smile on my way out the door. No number, no date, just another smile.
And that’s alright by me.