by Gage Grayson
“Ethan?”
“Madeline! How are you?”
“I-I’m good, Ethan. I know I haven’t been in touch recently...”
“Well, me neither.”
“Is everything okay, Ethan?” Maddie asks, as if she knows something’s wrong and she’s trying to get it out of me.
I don’t think too much about that, though. For a moment, all I feel is giddy shock that this conversation is happening after I tried so hard to convince myself that it’s over.
“What are you doing tonight, Madeline?” I ask, knowing there’s a slim-to-none chance she doesn’t have plans for her Friday night by now.
“I thought I had a lot of work to do...but I don’t know. I think I might not be doing anything.” Her answer is puzzling, but now is not the time to dwell on that.
“Would you want to get a drink? I could use a drink.”
It’s a weird thing for me to say. It’s even not a quarter past nine in the morning, and if we do get together, it won’t be for another few hours—but I’m letting instinct take over for this call.
“Okay. Sure. I could use one, too. You want to meet at the Iron Horse or something?” Before I can respond, Maddie offers another suggestion. “Or that place we went a while ago? In Alphabet City?”
“Lush Republic.”
“Yeah,” Maddie says. “I have trouble remembering that name for some reason. They have food there, right?”
“They do, but why don’t we start the drinks there, and...” Okay, time to reel myself in just a little. “And some food, if you’re hungry. Whatever you want.”
“I’m in. I’ll see you there at 7:00 p.m.”
“I’ll be there with bells on.”
“And I mean 7:00 p.m. sharp, bellboy. See ya.” Madeline hangs up.
For once this week, I’m feeling motivated to get some fucking work done.
With my laptop, tablet, and business smartphone going full blast, I work the shit out of this Friday, reading news and analyzing data. It’s pointless, since the fund is probably closing soon, but it passes some of the time before my date with Maddie.
At 5:00 p.m., I leave with the crowd.
In my suit and overcoat, I embark on the half hour walk to Lush Republic. It’s still crazy fucking early when I get there. I stake out a table and order one of the dark stouts they have on tap.
I nurse my pint of beer until Maddie shows up at seven, on the dot. Like me, it looks like she’s still dressed in her work clothes.
Maddie and I make eye contact the moment she walks in the door. My heart starts pumping a little harder—and harder still as I watch Maddie pleasantly show her ID to the bouncer.
She’s wearing a light jacket—maybe a little too light for the weather—over an incredibly well-fitting charcoal gray skirt suit. She slips off the jacket before walking to the table, draping it over her arm.
She looks so fucking good in that suit.
“Is this where Rich Uncle Pennybags likes to spend all his time?” Maddie down across from me in the worn yet comfortable booth.
“I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve seen him around here. I like spending time here, though—especially with you.”
Fuck, I need to turn it down by about a hundred fucking notches. That was so...
Maddie smiles, and my brain goes blissfully blank.
I smile back, because I have no other choice. I am so fucking glad I decided to call.
There’s a Monkees song playing through the bars iPod-connected speakers—Charles must be presiding over the playlist tonight.
“Isn’t this a Smash Mouth song?” Maddie asks.
“No, you’re thinking of I’m A Believer. This is Daydream Believer.”
“So, they stole the other song from Smash Mouth.”
“They sure did, the thieving bastards.”
“It’s that damn Shrek soundtrack,” Maddie snarls. “That’s where it all started.”
“Shrek is the soundtrack, and the most influential album of the sixties,” I add.
“Mm,” Maddie replies, grabbing my half-full pint glass of stout. “Also: Mmm,” Maddie comments after taking a sip and wiping the foam from her upper lip.
“I can get you a fresh pint. That one’s lukewarm by now.”
“Room temperature,” Maddie replies. “For a stout like this, it’s perfect. Ooh, can I keep it? Please? I’ll take real good care of it.”
“Go for it. They’ve got this shit on tap—and I think they might still have my tab open from the other night.”
“Mm,” Maddie comments once more before enjoying another sip of her warm stout.
“Glad you’re enjoying it, Maddie. I still prefer it cold. I mean, I don’t know how they do it in England...”
With the word England, I feel myself freeze up.
Any mention of a certain European nation is guaranteed to go over very fucking poorly with Maddie right now, so I need to be on my toes. Even mentioning a country in the same fucking continent might be too close for comfort.
“It’s how we do it in the Old Country,” Maddie responds with a wonderful smile. She gives me a little wink and tips back the glass.
The relief washing over me is so powerful that I almost collapse onto the fucking table. The sight of Maddie enjoying herself and, well, just being Maddie pulls me in the other direction, making me feel like I’m about to rocket through the ceiling.
Luckily for me, it ends up balancing out, and I remain still, calm, and completely ecstatic in my seat, watching Maddie savor her warm stout.
After an especially enthusiastic gulp, Maddie darts her tongue out forcefully and licks the foam from her lips. Maddie keeps her tongue out in the open air well after the last traces of foam are gone. Widening her eyes, Maddie tilts her head upwards and thrusts her tongue out even further.
“Thake a thicthure.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice—I’m already digging through my overcoat for my personal phone to capture this moment for the ages.
“Thake it!” Maddie yells impatiently as I grapple with my phone, trying to frame the photo as fucking perfectly as it deserves.
“Thake it!” Maddie yells again. As if she demanded it, Hey Ya by OutKast starts playing through the bar’s speakers.
I get in two good snaps before Maddie’s dancing in her seat and the moment’s lost forever.
“Do you want me to text these to you, or...”
Maddie shrugs while taking a sip of stout. She’s also still moving madly to the music, shaking the entire booth like it’s some sort of instant photograph.
Stacia, my Lush Republic waitress as always, furtively leaves a fresh pint of stout in front of me while Maddie stays lost in the song.
Maddie sings along to one line of the song, and I drop my glass before I can take the first sip. I’m real fucking lucky it was only an inch off the table and the beer and glass both survived intact.
“Whoa there, Eth, you missed the best line of the song!”
“Madeline...I’ve never heard...are you...”
Now Maddie’s laughing at me, because I’m speechless, and I’m sure I have a dumb, slack-jawed expression.
“Why aren’t you a professional singer!” I fucking scream that shit, because I’m suddenly fucking outraged.
Maddie giggles to herself while taking a confident sip of stout.
“I’m not that good, Ethan. When the song’s playing loudly, and I’m singing quietly, it gives a false impression.”
“I don’t believe it.”
Maddie laughs beautifully as I shake my head.
“Hear me sing in the shower sometime—then you’ll believe it.”
The Lush Republic crowd is growing to its usual Friday night size, and the music has stopped altogether for some reason. Maddie’s looking around, a bit restlessly.
And I don’t want this night to end.
“Where do you want to go for dinner?” I ask.
“Mother of Pearl.” Maddie didn’t delay for a fucking second—
she’s been thinking about this. It’s a good choice, too, since it’s practically next door. It takes about twenty seconds for us to walk there, and by some miracle, they have a table open for us.
It’s also a fucking tiki bar.
“Good choice, Maddie.”
“You know it.” Maddie’s busy studying the menu, and I’m just marveling at everything.
Like the décor.
Like the fact we’re seated, with menus, at Mother of Pearl, not ten minutes after Hey Ya ended.
Like the fact Maddie’s here, in New York, sitting across the table from me.
This is not some memory.
“This is real,” I say quietly.
“You know it,” Maddie says again.
That sends my heart fluttering. For real. Yes, that shit actually happens, as I’m learning right now.
“Which one of these daiquiris should I get? The Frozen Classic? And, ooh, look at these fancy shots.”
“Any of them, all of them, anything and everything you want.”
A flicker of mischief dances across Maddie’s eyes as she closes her menu. “Mr. Barrett—are you suggesting we order every drink on this menu?”
“I’ll lay it out like this...have you ever dreamt of coming here?”
“Uh, don’t remember, sorry.”
“It could’ve been a daydream. Like maybe earlier today.”
“I don’t know how you could think I was daydreaming about this...cocktail menu.”
“Maddie, this can be your dream. If your dream is ordering all the frozen daiquiris, or just the entire fucking menu, then I want to make that happen.”
“My dream, huh?” Maddie reopens her menu with renewed purpose. “If you really want to make it come true...hm.”
“Take your time, Maddie. It can be anything.”
“Liquid Sunshine.”
“What’s that?”
“A cocktail for two people. Or three. We can share that, and we can share this tasting platter.”
“That’s all?”
“Maybe a couple appetizers, too.”
That’s how it starts, but we end up going through two or three of those cocktails meant for two or three people, and several appetizers, and the tasting platter.
And a couple daiquiris for good measure.
“How was your dream?” I ask as we saunter happily back out onto Avenue A.
“I’ll level with ya—my dream was to have dinner, and that was a fucking dinner, alright. I’ll say it worked out pretty fucking well.”
“Good.”
Maddie’s leaning, falling lazily into me as we walk uptown. I wrap my arm around her shoulders.
“That dream was so good, I’m falling asleep. What’s your dream?”
“To hear you sing more.”
“Well, fuck,” Maddie perks up, suddenly overflowing with energy. “Karaoke!”
“You mean at a bar or something?”
Maddie slips out of my arm and starts walking fast—almost running—ahead of me.
“No! I mean, technically, but...real karaoke! The way it’s supposed to be. Just a few blocks up! Come on!”
Maddie zips uptown, and I follow. Thanks to the recent daiquiris and calories, those few blocks are a blur.
I’m still just behind Maddie when we walk into the karaoke lounge. Maddie grabs my arm, then pushes me in front of her to talk to the guy behind the desk.
“He’s paying,” she announces from behind my back.
“Just the two of you?” The guy asks. “It’s per person, per hour.”
“I appreciate your honesty.” I craftily retrieve a couple bills from my wallet.
“We’re not really into time limits, so...”
The room we get is surprisingly spacious. The open bar is a nice touch.
It takes Maddie a little while to decide on a song from the giant book of options. By the time she dials her choice into the remote, we’ve had a couple cups of sake each.
My dream is to hear Maddie sing, and by now it’s starting to feel like a dream. Timeless, hazy, and too good to be true.
I’m lying in the middle of the floor, on a plush rug, my overcoat bunched up with Maddie’s purse on the couch.
“This is by Roberta Flack,” announces Maddie. “And the Fugees, later on.”
A few long, silent seconds, then Maddie’s voice starts.
“Str—”
“Holy shit!”
“Quiet, Ethan!”
Madeline starts again, and her angelic tone swirls around the room. Eventually, her song sadly ends, but not long after that, she’s on the rug with me, our tongues dancing drunkenly.
The dance fades eventually, but we stay on the floor, holding each other in the dreamy mist.
“I left my jacket at that bar.” Maddie starts laughing, and so do I. “No, really. I just realized....”
“Do you want to go get it?”
“Sure, on the way back to your place.”
Ethan
“What fucking street are we on, again?”
The question comes out in between deep, hungry kisses. Each kiss is like a reset button, and I lose the plot entirely. The feeling of our lips meeting softly and naturally throws me so far that I’m lucky to remember what planet I’m on.
“I don’t know, some fucking number,” Maddie replies.
Maddie grabs my ass with our next kiss, her grip firm and resolute.
“A number, you say. I think I know which way to go.”
Maddie’s wearing my coat and staring up at me with her gorgeous emerald eyes. Even with yards of dark wool fabric draped loosely across her shoulders, Maddie still looks so fucking hot.
“Hold on, though,” she says, signaling that it’s time for one last kiss before we start walking.
We’re right outside the karaoke lounge, and I don’t even think it’s midnight yet, but if there’s anyone else on this block besides us, I am not aware of them.
Another kiss throws me for another loop. Like all of our kisses, this one just seems to happen.
This one also feels especially ravenous. It lingers, not wanting to end. The longer it goes on, the deeper the well of hunger gets.
Eventually, the kiss needs to end, because we’re not going to satisfy a hunger that deep right out here on…
“Wait, what fucking street is this, again?”
“I thought you knew!” Maddie’s leading the way, despite her claims of ignorance.
With her hand wrapped firmly around my forearm, Maddie just starts fucking running when we get back to Avenue A.
The only choice I have is to run with her, and she’s running fast—my big-ass overcoat’s not slowing her down at fucking all.
“I’ve gotta hand it to you, Maddie.” I catch my breath as we enter Lush Republic. “You got us here quick.”
“You want your coat back, don’t you? Hey, my jacket!”
Somehow, Maddie’s jacket ended up on the coat rack by the entrance. She grabs it with a smile and laboriously takes off my coat, still wearing the same smile.
“Here, have a coat…I need a drink.”
“Is that a poem?”
“I hope not,” says Maddie, already on her way to the bar.
Charles has two stouts ready for us by the time we sit down. He disappears before we can thank him.
“I like how I don’t have to order anything here,” Maddie comments, taking a big first guzzle.
“Is that still good cold out of the tap?”
Maddie looks at the pint glass for a long moment. “It’s no Captain’s Demise, but it’ll do.”
Captain’s Demise—my favorite drink for a one-week period of my life.
Since Maddie’s reappeared in my life, she’s made it clear that Hawaii is off-limits. No references to that week will be tolerated, and certainly no actual fucking discussion.
No acknowledgement of it, even.
Until now, that is.
I leave it there, though.
It’s not like I’m eager to talk
about it. For the first time in years, I’m not even thinking about it.
That was then.
And this is now.
We finish our beers, which gives us the perfect boost for the walk back to my place.
“Wait, did you even pay?” Maddie’s yelling tempers the eeriness of City Hall Park.
“They know I’ll be back, and I’ve got a tab open.”
At this point, Maddie’s moving backwards, trying to walk and have a conversation at the same time.
“You must know your way around here pretty well to walk like that.”
“Hey, I don’t live in Boston anymore. I know my way around.”
“Let me get this straight...”
I put my arm around Maddie’s back to keep her steady, and another kiss blossoms instantly.
“…but we keep getting distracted,” she mumbles.
We kiss again after exiting the park. Maddie’s still walking backwards.
“…fuck, and now I forgot what fucking street we’re on again,” I mumble back, against her lips.
“We’re on Broadway, genius, and your apartment’s like two feet away.”
We make the transition from walking slowly to stopping entirely. Our next kiss engulfs us. It’s as if someone poured gasoline on all the little blazes this evening has sparked, combining them into a massive fucking fireball.
“How close did you say it was?” With that, I kiss Madeline’s neck, down toward her shoulder, and around to the other side of her neck.
“Not fucking close enough,” Maddie gasps.
This time, we both fucking run.
It’s a good thing it’s such a ghost town here on Friday nights, because we throw caution to the fucking wind with this mad dash.
Straight across Broadway, down Barclay, through the lobby, and to the elevators without stopping for a goddamn thing.
After we finally need to stop—to wait for the elevator—Maddie mashes the up button with her fist. “I know it’s your building and all, but, fuck, I just want that fucking thing to get here. Why do you need to live so high up?”
Maddie and I are kissing again before I can answer, and our kiss continues in the elevator.
The elevator up to my floor is fast, but not that fast. By the time we reach the twentieth floor, my coat, Maddie’s jacket, and my own suit jacket are on the elevator floor.