Today's Special is the Jerk-Chicken Salad - Chapter 8: Mango? Blueberry? Pineapple? Strawberry?

Sitting at the bar, Betty was examining herself in the bar's mirror and pushing strands of hair into the hair clip when she heard the roar of Gio's motorcycle coming towards the restaurant. Her chestnut brown hair, the scarlet flower beside her face, the white tank top with a hint of red bra peeking out, and the bright floral sarong skirt made her feel feminine and pretty, pleasing her.

Abruptly, the noisy engine cut off and she heard the kitchen door slam. Startled, Betty jerked around towards the kitchen, grabbing the bar to stop from falling off her stool.

"Hello," called Gio from the kitchen. "I'm back!"

"I'm in here," called Betty, nervously smoothing her skirt.

Appearing suddenly in the kitchen doorway, his long brown hair tousled and tanned body relaxed, Gio lounged against the doorframe and smiled at her with an impish grin.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" asked Gio. "Is there anything you want?"

"I'm okay," squeaked Betty, swallowing. He looked amazing.

"What do you want to do?" Gio kicked off his flip-flops and padded over to the bar, jumping on the stool beside Betty.

"I don't know," said Betty, shrinking away nervously. "What do you want to do?"

"Hmm," said Gio, leaning an elbow on the bar and smiling at Betty. "We could go out somewhere."

"No," said Betty firmly. "We better stay here. I don't want anyone taking photos of us."

"Want to swim? I can take you to a private beach."

"Can't. I don't have a suit."

"I can lend you something to wear."

"No, let's stay here." Betty's knuckles were white from gripping the bar. "It's too dangerous to go out."

"You need to relax," said Gio. "You need to forget all that stuff."

"I want to relax," said Betty, flustered by Gio's steady gaze, the pitch of her voice rising. "That's why I came here, but it's been such a nightmare. It's hard to relax!"

Gio stood up and went around behind the bar. "How about a drink?"

"Gio, it isn't even nine yet!" giggled Betty nervously.

"You said you're on Vienna time," said Gio. "It can be happy hour, if you want it to be."

"No, thanks," said Betty. "I don't want a drink."

Gio squatted down and opened a cupboard under the bar that held a safe. He unlocked the safe and pulled out a small oblong biscuit tin and put it onto the bar in front of Betty. He took the lid off the tin revealing several small plastic bags. Gio pulled one out and set it on the bar. Betty thought the bag's contents looked like oregano.

"What is that?" asked Betty suspiciously.

"You can't guess?" Gio brushed the bag with a finger, flattening it so Betty could see inside more easily.

"I don't think it's oregano," said Betty, looking up at Gio.

"You're right, it isn't," said Gio. "The island's best. Interested?"

"No," said Betty, disapprovingly. "Definitely not."

"Do you want something else?" said Gio. "I could probably get whatever you want."

"Gio," cried Betty. "Since when do you do this stuff? Why do you do this stuff?"

"I like it," said Gio. "It helps me relax and forget my problems. Why not enjoy all the good things life has to offer? I get my pleasure from where I can, when I can. In moderation, of course."

"But drugs are bad," said Betty. "That's why it's a crime."

"And why is it a crime?" Gio tapped the bag. "How does this harm anyone?"

"Gangs, robberies, turf wars, murders, smuggling," listed Betty rapidly. "There are lots of reasons why drugs are bad. That's why we have a war on drugs."

"America's war on drugs causes more problems than the drugs themselves! This stuff is less harmful than alcohol or tobacco."

"But think of all the crime it causes," cried Betty, "that's the problem."

"It's so easy to grow," said Gio. "How would any of that apply if I had a couple of plants out back?"

Stunned, Betty gasped and stared wide-eyed at Gio. "You …?"

Crossing his arms and staring back, Gio frowned and said, "Hypothetically speaking."

Brows furrowed, Betty looked at Gio. "But there has to be a reason for the war on drugs."

"There is," said Gio. "Because people in law enforcement need laws to enforce. Law-makers make more laws, not throw out ones that do more harm than good. So, it's up to law-abiding citizens to change things, but it's hard for them to speak up about something that's a crime."

"I never thought about it quite like that," said Betty, doubtfully.

"Betty, you're going to be working at the UN, and it's vital that you check the facts and think for yourself. Open your mind, don't always accept American propaganda."

"Maybe … I'll be working at the UN."

"You will."

"I promise you, I'll always think for myself. But I'm not interested."

Gio packed up the biscuit tin and squatted down to lock it in the safe.

Gio looked so different, mused Betty, with his long hair, earrings, and all-over tan. And he was acting different too; content to be running a tiny restaurant on a remote island, surfing all the time, riding a flashy motorcycle, and now here he was telling her shocking ideas about drugs and politics. It was so strange. It occurred to her that Daniel never had any ideas about politics.

Why had Gio changed? What made him change? What happened to his ambitions? And why had his wife left him? It was unbelievable. How could he have changed so much in less than two years?

And yet, even though he was so different, when she looked into his eyes she could see something there, something she recognized from before.

"What are we going to do?" said Gio. "We have to do something. Do you want to play scrabble?"

"I figured out what I want."

"What?"

"I want a milkshake!"

"Now, we're talking!" Gio whooped and clapped his hands. "What flavor do you want?"

"Hmm," said Betty, tapping her chin. "I want them all. How to choose? How to choose? I haven't had a milkshake for so long."

"Mango? Blueberry? Pineapple? Strawberry?"

"I know," said Betty, eyes gleaming. "Chocolate!"

Gio prepared her big chocolate milkshake, extra creamy and frothy, slipped a festive striped straw into it, and set it in front of Betty with a flourish.

Betty sucked it down greedily, moaning rapturously.

"Ow," cried Betty after several gulps, clutching her head. "Brain freeze!"

"Slow down!" laughed Gio, pleased. "We've got all day."

"This tastes like a gazillion calories!"

"And … does that mean good?"

"Yeah! The best," squealed Betty. "Splendiferous!"

While Betty drank the milkshake Gio selected some lively reggae music from his collection and turned it on, cranking up the volume up until they were both feeling energized by it.

Snapping his fingers, Gio skipped and stepped rhythmically around the dining room lifting chairs and pushing tables into the corners of the room, opening up space for dancing on the shiny black and white tiled floor.

With her eyes following him, Betty unconsciously marveled at Gio's toned physique and effortless grace, and sucked hungrily at the milkshake, noisily slurping up every last drop.

Hearing her finish the drink, Gio danced towards Betty with a little flourish and bowed to her, holding out his hand. "Will you give me the pleasure of joining me in a dance?"

Hastily wiping her chocolaty lips with the back of her hand, Betty smiled and slipped off the stool.

After they skipped a couple of steps, Betty groaned, "I'm too full. And I don't know how to dance. You have to pick something easier, something slower."

Gio left Betty in the center of the room and went to select different music, choosing a romantic slow-dance mix.

Returning to her, Gio placed his hands on her hips, gently swaying her back and forth in a simple pattern to the slow beat. She looped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. His touch was so light she could just barely feel his fingertips caressing her back.

The dancing's effect on Betty, her belly full of the delicious, forbidden milkshake, her mind entranced by the yearning, beguiling music, and her body surrounded by Gio's strong arms, was magical, heavenly. The tension in her body melted away and she relaxed. Betty sighed.

Gio felt her breath on his neck and looked down to see her expression.

Betty lifted her head and met his gaze. An alarmingly pleasurable sensation surged through her as she discovered his tempting lips so close to hers. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Of course," purred Gio, his pleased grin showing deep dimples, "is it working?"

"Oh, be serious," said Betty tartly. "If I slept with you I'd be no better than Daniel."

"I'd respect your virtue more," challenged Gio with a smile, "If I didn't think you were going to just turn around and lord it over him."

Giggling, Betty reddened and slapped Gio's arm. "Good god, Gio, what an awful thing to say."

"If I'm wrong," murmured Gio, exhaling deeply, swaying her gently, "then I take it back."

Deciding to ignore his provocative retraction, Betty relaxed and danced lazily, comfortable in Gio's embrace, following him and letting the music transport her. Each time Gio swung her around his long silky hair brushed her arm making her skin tingle and she pondered letting go of him so she could touch it. But she didn't, because she didn't want to let go of him. "I bet you dance like this with all the pretty girls that come in here."

"No," said Gio firmly with an innocent look, shaking his head, "certainly not."

"No?" murmured Betty, studying his face, finding his features different from before, yet still familiar, right, more excited now than worried by the dangerous nearness of his mouth.

"I only dance like this, with the ones both very beautiful and rich."

Flattered and amused, Betty laughed heartily, tossing her head and swirling her sarong skirt flirtatiously around her bare legs.

"Don't laugh," said Gio, grinning. "I'm in demand! In the high season you have to book me weeks in advance. How do you think I finance my extravagant lifestyle?"

Rolling her eyes at his scandalous boasting, Betty giggled and commanded, "Hold me. Dance me." She closed her eyes and tucked her face under his chin, surrendering to his guidance and allowing him to move her around the tables and chairs.

In a low, caramel-smooth voice Gio counted into her ear, "One, two, three, four, and one, two, three, four," like a hypnotist, as they danced to the music's pulse, bodies perfectly matched. Soon all cares receded from their thoughts and then all thoughts receded from their minds, as though by magic each had entered the other's secret dream. Gio rested his cheek against her hair and carefully led her around, from one end of the room to the other, into the space behind the bar and out, towards the kitchen and back again.

With their arms around each other, her warm cheek on his smooth chest, the thudding of his joyful heart in her ear, and his fingertips lightly caressing the small of her back, they slowly circled and re-circled the room, swaying and grooving to the compelling music, all the while becoming imperceptibly closer to each other.