Bad Stereotypes - 12. Saturday 22nd June 2013

When Issac next glanced at his watch he swore gently.

“Sorry.” I’d apologised before I could stop myself. Jus the idea that I’d trapped him longer than he’d wanted made me feel guilty.

“Quit apologising Bay. Christ, it’s nearly 6 o’clock.”

“What happens at 6 o’clock?” I couldn’t believe that after nearly three hours we still hadn’t run out of things to talk about. I was tired, but Issac was way more interesting than bed. I had to think of something else for a moment, the image of Issac and bed was the most distracting thing of all.

“The best food comes from the best ingredients.” Issac was smiling broadly, “The best chef’s go and make sure they get the best ingredients. You wanna come to market with me?”

“Sure.”

“And you can show off those running skills of yours.” Issac grinned at me, and I could see something behind his smile that made me blush hard. I scrambled up the twisted stairs to the bedroom, threw on my turquoise running shirt, grabbed my trainers, new socks, and changed into good boxers and loose khaki surfer style shorts before rushing back downstairs. Issac put the glasses we had used on the draining board as I wrapped by mp3 player webbing around my arm, making sure I had keys, ID and emergency money. “Keen.” Issac was smirking slightly as I let us out, checked the alarms and locked up, “I can’t believe you’re not tired.”

“So-”

“I swear if you apologise again I’ll let Zupan roll over you with his murderball chair.”

I shut up as we walked away from the club and across the road. When we reached the promenade Issac turned left towards the marina and we started to pick up the pace. I considered the jog to be a slow but good speed, just enough to continue conversation.

“So what do you listen to when you run?” Issac motioned to the mp3 player band wrapped around my arm, the ear buds dangling and looking forlorn.

“Lots of rock,” stupidly obvious answer, I worked at the South Alaska, “Metallica, Meat Loaf, sometimes Guns’n’Roses. I like to listen to classics when I run, better beats. Some Nickelback is good.”

“You admit to liking Nickelback?” Issac jabbed me in the shoulder and grinned, “Hey, far be for me to tell you what to run to.”

“What about you?” We slowed slightly as Issac took his light jacket off and tied the arms around his hips. It meant I couldn’t look at his butt, which was annoying, “What’s your guilty pleasure then?”

“Pink. You gotta love those lyrics. She’s so empowering and angry.”

I wished I hadn’t asked. Issac noticed my silence.

“Too pop for you metal-boy?” That sounded like a decent excuse, I went with it and nodded. “Of course if you mix that up with Norwegian goth-metal everything is better. Lordi, I know it’s cheesy.”

“Remind me not to take playlists from you,” I picked up a bit of pace and drew slightly ahead of Issac, after all he had called me a cheetah, “So you make a habit of staying up all night when you have to work?”

“Not usually kiddo.” Issac caught up with me and gestured, “This way.” I followed him down a gentle slope towards the marina’s interior, and we slowed as we reached the open area of the market. As I shook out my legs, there was a metallic crunching noise from Issac. I frowned at him. “My doctors kept telling me not to stress the joint.” He thumped the side of his leg, and something clunked.

“Issac?”

“Never mind. Come meet the producers.”

The market was a mix of fishermen with the morning catches, butchers and growers. Issac was greeted like an old friend, people called his name while others shouted about their latest catch, their newest thing. Issac wove through, checking things here and there until he was greeted by a huge salt and sea sprayed bear of a man who clapped him on the shoulder.

“Robo-chef. Good to see you buddy. You’re late.”

“Been up all night.” Issac grinned, “What have you got for me?”

The big fisherman looked me up and down.

“Nothing as fresh as that dude. I got halibut, plaice and really good shrimps. See?” Issac began to inspect the fish, and I glanced around. It was easy to see why all the producers came down to the marina, there was a lot of space and since the fish came straight off the sea, it made a lot of sense. I wandered over to where a butcher was showing off something red and lovely looking that I didn’t recognise while Issac haggled. After a bit I found him standing at my elbow.

“Lamb?”

“It is?” I turned to see him looking confused, “I did say I can’t cook.”

“And you meant it. Good god boy.” Issac looked the lamb up and done and grinned at the butcher, “We’ll have a side, and can you do me a short shank to go?”

“Sure thing Daneil.” The butcher wrapped up a cut in layers of brown paper before placing it in a bag, “You want it by noon or earlier?”

“Noon is fine. Dinner menu.” Issac handed me the lamb, “I got a few more things to haggle over. Go pick some things to go with your lamb and tell them to put it on my account.” I must have looked scared, because Issac gave me a little push, “Go on Bay. Don’t be shy.”

So feeling like a bit of an idiot, I wandered off around the market where chefs and cooks were buying big stocks to be delivered later, people getting smaller wholesale quantities, a few like me getting stuff to go. I looked for things that were the most colourful, things I didn’t really recognise, and no one seemed to mind that I was putting things on Issac’s account. Everyone seemed to know him. Ten minutes later Issac was inspecting my purchases.

“Candy striped beetroot? That’ll go well. The romanesco cauliflower was a good choice. Yeah, that’s the thing that looks like a lizard. Golden carrots? You’re going to make me poor Bay.”

“I am?” I was suddenly very worried that I’d done really badly.

“Nah. I’m just joshing ya. You chose good.”

Issac handed the bag back to me and I peered inside dubiously.

“You realise that I have no idea how to cook any of this right?”

“Well aren’t you just lucky to have me? Think you can start work late tonight?”

“I don’t know.” But I figured if I told Dale I had an actual date he would let me have a couple of hours.

“I’m going to go home, get a couple of hours kip, then prep the restaurant for lunch service. Why don’t you come at like three and I’ll make you lunch?”

“Really?”

“Yes really. See you in a few hours yeah?” Issac took the bag off me and I made sure to look in his eyes when his fingers touched mine. I did not imagine the dilation of his pupils.

“Issac?”

“Y-yeah?” Now it was his turn to be nervous as I stepped closer. Issac’s body radiated warmth. His lips were inches away.

“I like hanging out with you.”

“Oh good,” Issac’s words were barely more than a formed breath on my lips, “That is good.”

It was so nearly a kiss, but then there was a loud noise from the market and I flinched and broke away. The moment passed.

“See you at three?”

“Yeah.” I watched Issac walk away and wondered if I could make it until three pm without exploding.