Infinity(15)
About five minutes later, Jenny returns, arms loaded down with bags of Italian takeout from the little shop around the corner. As she starts setting it up buffet-style on the granite bar, the smell of marinara sauce hits me, and my stomach does a very uncomfortable flip. I turn away from the smell, and bring my hand up as if to shield my nose from the offending odor.
Colin slips back into the seat next to me. “Are you okay?” Colin leans over and whispers. Worry lines crease his beautiful eyes. “You look funny.”
I nod my head, not wanting to open my mouth. I manage to squeak out, “Water.” He jumps to his feet and walks over to the bar. He opens the small refrigerator and takes out two bottles of water for us to have with our lunch the chef prepared at home.
He unscrews the cap, and sits my water bottle down in front of me. He also removes the foil from my lunch. Thankfully, there are two rice cakes. I pick one up and break off an edge. The bland nothingness of a rice cake never tasted so good. Soon, my stomach settles, and I glance up at Colin, who’s still clearly very worried.
“I haven’t been eating much trying to get ready for the ESPY Awards. I think that I just got low blood sugar.”
He drops his chin and cocks an eyebrow, “And…”
“And, I’ll mention it to Doctor Starr, who I’m seeing in two hours.” I try to remind him that my time today is limited, so he should get the show on the road.
Once everyone has the lunch plates fixed, a woman in a beautiful black suit stands up and begins the presentation. I listen to her drone on and on about market research, product placement, and other things that I don’t care about. It would be snooze-worthy if I didn’t find her French accent so alluring to listen to.
She talks about how they plan to go after a different demographic with this new cologne. Instead of targeting the average sportsman, this cologne is more sophisticated. It will be targeted to the man who appreciates luxury, and fine details.
When she’s done speaking, she introduces one of the men, who hands out five sheets of paper each to Colin, Jenny, and me. Each one has a number on it. “I’m going to pass a scent, and each of you will evaluate it based on the criteria on the pages in front of you. We’ll do this for all five scents. This should give us a better idea as to what you’re looking for, Colin, in a fragrance. I suggest you bring the vial right under your nose to block out the scent of lunch.” He brings the first tube under his nose to demonstrate.
I want to roll my eyes. What he’s looking for in a fragrance? Try Ivory soap and dog spit. Mix in the essence of sex, and he’s a happy man. Colin reaches under the table and squeezes my knee as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
They give the first vial to Colin. It’s marked with a number one. I reach down and break off a piece of my rice cake and pop it in my mouth as Colin removes the lid. The musky, earthy scent of the cologne mixes with the aroma of marinara sauces, and then combines with the smell of the half-piece of grilled chicken breast still sitting in front of Colin.
My stomach becomes sloshy, my mouth fills with too much saliva to swallow, and I break out in a cold sweat. I tear off another piece of rice cake, and say a silent prayer that I’ll not get sick. Colin dabs a tiny amount of the cologne on the cuff of his shirt, releasing more of the scent in the air, and bile rises from my stomach to my mouth.
I push my chair back, and try to walk calmly out of the room. I know that I’m failing when I feel all seven sets of eyes track me towards the door.
Colin announces to the room, “Excuse me for a moment.”
I don’t wait for him to catch me. I can’t. I walk into his office and open his bathroom door as I begin to lose my stomach. The cold sweat is pouring off of me, and whatever has made me so sick is coming up violently. I can still smell the combination of scents lingering in my nose, which is making me sicker.
Colin rushes to me. “Charlie, dear God, what’s wrong with you?” I can’t see him, but his baritone voice is cracking in fear.
As he moves closer, so does the smell of the cologne. It makes me wretch even more violently. I try waving my hand back, hoping that he’ll leave.
But he keeps coming, probably thinking that I’m just embarrassed that I’m sick in front of him. He’s got to get away from me. I can’t stop gagging until whatever smell is on him is gone.
Finally, between stomach rolls, I’m able to get out, “Your smell is making me sick.”
I’ve never been this ill before. This is a different kind of sick. It’s certainly not food poisoning. It’s almost as if I feel better that I’m vomiting, which makes absolutely no sense.