“Come on, we gotta check it out!”
Charlotte drags me down the busy sidewalk, weaving through the throngs of church-goers and mimosa-drinkers. As an award-winning chef, she gets stupid excited every time anything food-related opens, and since she’s my best friend, I always end up going with her.
“They’re probably not even open,” I grumble, wishing I was still in my cozy little apartment. Our last adventure was to an eatery that overcooked our mussels until they were practically rubber. We tried to send the dish back but the owner refused to remake it, claiming that we switched the mussels out—as if we’d be keeping shellfish in our pockets or something—so we threw some cash on the table and left to get pho instead.
Yeah, I think it’s fair of me to be wary.
“Don’t be such a downer, Andrew. I promise it won’t be like last time.”
I plant my feet into the ground, pulling her to an abrupt stop. “Making promises before you’ve tried it?”
“Everything there is raw, okay? Let’s go already!” Char pouts and tugs on my arm impatiently.
“Is it sushi or something?” My steps are slow and heavy, tempering her excitement. It probably doesn’t help that we’re hiking up an incline, too.
She finally stops at a quaint little shop.
“The Wurst! Isn’t it cute?” Charlotte’s eyes sparkle with adoration.
My eyes, however, are rolling so hard that they’re already at the bottom of the hill. Char doesn’t hesitate to pull me inside.
The warm lighting relaxes me, so I take a moment to look around. Most of the space is taken up by a glass display filled with different types of meats and sausages. My eyes land on a spectacularly marbled cut of what I think might be beef, but I’m not really sure. “You brought me to a butchery?”
“Butcher shop, dummy. Big difference.” Char’s eyes widen as she inspects the available selection. “They even sell game meat here! I love this place already!” I’ve never seen her this animated in the eight years that I’ve known her—she’s bouncing off the walls at this point.
I almost snark back with a comment about how I have more “experience” with “meat” than her, but I don’t want to feed her excitement. So I shut my mouth, opting to look around the shop some more.
On a corner table, a small stack of business cards is nestled in a holder. I stare at the name printed on the paper and the letters stare back, foreign and unforgiving. Maik Quimuyog, Owner.
I silently feel out the name with my lips. “May-ick… Kwee-moo-yawg…?” There’s no fucking way I’m saying it right but I don’t feel comfortable asking. I don’t use my anglicized Chinese name anymore, but I know how awkward it feels when everyone butchers your name.
Butchers. Ha.
“Welcome to The Wurst. How can I help you today?”
I instinctively turn towards the smooth baritone voice and…
Damn, he looks good. His coffee-colored hair is slicked back into a modest pompadour, softening the hard lines of his angular jaw and straight, strong nose. His eyes, though—his eyes stand out from the rest of his features. They’re a clear brown with a splash of amber, like some sort of fancy whiskey. The color of luxury and indulgence and a quiet night in. And while I can only see his head and shoulders over the counter, I’d wager my salary that he’s attractive all the way down. If only there was a way to find out...
“—off tomorrow, so I’ll be stopping by.” Charlotte’s been chatting with the shopkeeper and I’ve missed their entire conversation. Oops.
“I don’t see beef shank on display here, but that’s the cut we use. Do you think you can get a couple pounds by 5 p.m. tomorrow?” Oh. She’s just talking business.
“Of course.” Hot Butcher is talking again. “I’ll probably have it ready by three, but call before you come by, just in case.” God, his voice. I wonder if he sings. “My card is on the table over there.” I bet he’s amazing at karaoke.
“Great. I’ll call tomorrow.” She sticks out her hand. “Charlotte.”
He reaches over the glass counter and shakes it heartily. “Mike.”
Mike? Really? M-A-I-K is pronounced Mike? Thank god he said his name out loud. I definitely would’ve made a complete fool of myself otherwise.
Beside me, Char squints at the card in her hand. “That’s an unusual way to spell Mike.”
Maik shrugs like he’s heard it a thousand times, but there’s a cute little blush in his cheeks. “Yeah, it’s German.”
My bestie lights up. “Oh my god, Andrew, did you see the slogan?” She shoves the card in my face. “‘Only the best at The Wurst!’ I love it.”
“Yeah, okay.” I wave her off, feeling uncharacteristically embarrassed by her dramatics. She’s always been like this, but I wish she’d chill out just this once. It’s so unprofessional of her.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’m just trying to look cool in front of Maik.
When she withdraws her hand, I catch him staring and my heart rate skyrockets. Did I miss a spot while shaving? Did I not pluck my eyebrows? Do I have a zit somewhere? Ugh, I didn’t even comb my hair this morning. He probably thinks I look like a total mess.
I feel a pat on my shoulder, stopping me from spiraling further. “I’ve gotta run to work, okay? You should stay and chat with Maik for a while.” Char slips out the door, leaving me to fend for myself.
Way to go from best friend to bitch friend, Charlotte Hsiao.
Ugh.
Maik clears his throat, breaking the silence. “So… Do you like meat?”
