Each woman tried to summon a recollection of his face.
“I know his name,” Paula said. “It's right on the tip of my tongue. But I just can't think of it.”
“Well, don't strain yourself. It's not like you win any money for remembering.”
“He said he'd be back here to eat again. Maybe you'll find out his name and you two will have a chance to talk a lot longer than two minutes.”
“I doubt it.” Lauren tossed her chef's coat into her locker and retrieved her sandals. She sat down and changed out of her tennis shoes and sports socks. “Besides, I'm not interested.”
“Oh, come on, Lauren! How can you
not
be interested in him? Are you
blind
? That man was beautiful! Did you see his tattoo?” She closed her eyes and groaned. “Oh, I love a man with tattoos!”
“Yes, Paula, I noticed him . . .
and
his tattoo.” Lauren rose to her feet and shut her locker door. “But he just didn't do it for me,” she lied. “Besides, I'm just focused on other things.”
“Like what?”
“My life . . . my goals . . .
me
. I'm focusing on me. I'm making myself better. I'm my biggest priorityâin a good way.”
And I've still got a lot of work to do
.
Lauren climbed over the bench and waved. “See you tomorrow.”
“Wait! What are you going to do if he comes back?” she called as Lauren walked toward the locker door.
Lauren glanced over her shoulder. “If
who
comes back?”
“The guy from ten minutes ago! Mr. Gorgeous! Who
else
?”
“Feed him, I guess,” she answered nonchalantly. “Nighty night.”
Paula sighed. “Good night, Lauren.”