“Chef du Cuisine”

“Okay, class, we have a new guy. And, before we get to introductions; I’d just like to remind everyone about our meet and greet, next Friday evening. This is your opportunity to show the women in your lives, just how far you’ve come. Pardon the pun.”

“Hey, Coach…”

“Yeah, Al — ‘sup, bud?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Of course you are, champ. And besides, I told you that I’d speak to Patty for you. I know she doesn’t like this new version of you; but dammit, Al — it’s time to take your balls back and bust your own nuts, again. Ya with me?” Al searched his coach’s eyes, looking for an excuse to use. “Relax, don’t worry; if you’ve been using the gift bag I handed out in class, you should be just about ready for tonight.”

“I have.” Al’s eyes shifted to his own feet; he wiggled his toes nervously inside his sneakers, which bore a hard crease across the green toe-box of both.

“Al,” the hedonist coach hired by a friend, bent at the knees slightly; tilting his head to try and meet Al in his eyes. “You’ve been using the gift bag — haven’t you?” The concern grew with each silent second that passed.

“I…I tried to, coach. I just fumbled.” Al’s shoulders slumped, and his face began to tremble — his whole face — sullen, he tried to get it out, “it’s just…what if she doesn’t like it…