“Dude, I’ve totally got no game. I have completely forgotten how to do this.”
“There’s nothing to do, Sam,” Josh said reassuringly. “Just be yourself. You’re funny. You’re gorgeous. You’re related to me. It’s all good.”
Josh always knew how to make me feel better. Growing up, we were inseparable. We were also the black sheep of our ultra-conservative southern families. As kids in the 1970s, we bonded over roller-skating, disco dancing, and Star Wars. Our teenage years were spent driving around our tiny hometown of Douglasville, Georgia, listening to Cheap Trick and Motley Crue. We went to different high schools and colleges, but we still managed to hang out together all the time and were always fixing each other up with our friends.
Josh was working as a C.P.A. for Ernst & Young when I was hired at the ad agency in 1994. One of our clients was the Atlanta Olympic Committee. I was constantly scoring invitations and tickets to all the cool happenings in Atlanta during the mid-90s. Josh was frequently my plus-one.
For about a year, he dated my co-worker Julie. She liked the fact that he looked like David Arquette, and he liked the fact that she had huge tits. Obviously, their relationship didn’t last. A couple of years ago, Josh was offered a big promotion at the Ernst & Young headquarters in New York. He took it. Now he lives in a small one-bedroom apartment near Riverside Park.
“What time are we meeting your friends tonight?” I slathered butter on a piece of bread. The martini was working its magic and I was starting to relax a bit.
“Around nine or ten,” Josh said, finishing off his beer.
The Waiter was back with our food.
“Be careful, darlin’,” he said as he placed the dish in front of me. “This plate is really hot.”
Darlin’. Okay, he’s flirting with me.
“You guys ready for another round?”
Josh signaled yes.
“Oh, not for me, thanks,” I said. “I’m pacing myself.”
“Hot date tonight?” The Waiter asked.
“No. We’re just meeting some friends out later.”
“At the Bubble Lounge,” Josh interjected. I cut my eyes to look at him. “Sam’s leaving tomorrow, so we’re gonna do it up right tonight.”
“Oh, really? Where are you running off to?”
“Atlanta,” I replied. “Home.”
“Ah, I thought I detected a southern accent.”
“He has one too.” I pointed at Josh.
“Yeah, but his isn’t sexy,” The Waiter replied smiling at me. “I’ll be right back with that beer.”
Josh laughed. I sprinkled some fresh parmesan onto my fettuccini and took a bite. It was so good and I was so hungry that I didn’t even care if The Waiter saw me scarfing it down. After a few minutes, he came back with Josh’s beer and some more ice water for me.
“How is everything?”
“I love the spaghetti and meatballs here,” Josh replied. “I get it every time.”
“This is so good,” I said. “I think I need to take it back to my hotel so I can be alone with it.” Both Josh and The Waiter laughed.
“Where are you staying?”
“On the Ave Hotel. Broadway and 77th.”
“Oh, the one by Fishs Eddy?”
“Yeah. I love that store!”
“Have you been to the GreenFlea at Columbus?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Oh man, you gotta go before you leave. What time is your flight?”
“Six-thirty tomorrow night.”
“Wanna meet me there in the morning around ten?”
“Sure.” I could feel Josh smiling at me from across the table.
“Great!” The Waiter scooped up my empty glass. “It’s a date.”
He disappeared to the back of the restaurant again. My heart was racing. I looked across the table at Happy Buddha.
“What were you saying about having no game?” Josh asked.
“I can’t believe that just happened. No games. No wait two days. Just, ‘Hey, wanna hang out with me?’ Who does that?”
“Not me,” Josh said. “I’ve got game. But not that kinda game. That was smooth.”
I sat there stunned and discombobulated as we finished our meal. What are the odds that some random stranger I’d been lusting after this morning would be asking me out a few hours later? What are the odds that I would pick the very restaurant he worked at from a list in a magazine?
“Dinner is on me,” Josh said as he reached for his wallet. “I owe it to you for humiliating you.”
“Yes, you do. But I got the tip. And it’s gonna be a big one.”
“I’ll bet,” he laughed. “I’m going to the bathroom and then we’ll head out.”
Josh walked towards the back and handed The Waiter his credit card. I sat there at the table trying to calm myself as I watched the cabs whizzing down Columbus Avenue, stopping to pick up people and deliver them to their next New York minute. The sun was starting to set and another Saturday night was just getting started.
The Waiter was back. He placed the folio with Josh’s credit card on the table. Then he kneeled down beside me. We were face to face. I felt weak.
“So, Sammy.” God, even his voice was sexy. Very deep. Very New York. “Why don’t you write down your phone number in case I need to call you tomorrow.”
I somehow managed to form words. “I’ll give you my business card. It has my cell number on it.”
I reached into my backpack and pulled out a card. As I handed it over to him, my cell phone began to ring.
“Great,” The Waiter said. He put his hand on my bare knee as he started to stand up and leaned in closer.
“I’m really looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, Red.”
“Me too,” I smiled. He stood up and disappeared once again. I placed a few twenty-dollar bills in the folio.
My phone was still ringing. I retrieved it from the bottom of my backpack and looked down at the number on the screen. My heart stopped. It was Dalton.
CHAPTER 3
◆◆◆
Why the fuck is he calling me?
It’s all I could think about as Josh and I walked back to the hotel. I didn’t answer the phone. I turned it off and shoved it back into my bag as we left the restaurant. The restaurant where I’d just had my first New York minute. A minute I couldn’t even enjoy now because why the fuck is he calling me?
I didn’t tell Josh that Dalton called. I wanted to pretend like it didn’t happen. No way was I going to let him spoil my last night in the city. Dalton had a knack - an almost psychic ability - to insert himself back into my life right at the very moment I was ready to move on.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Josh said as we waited to cross the street. “Are you thinking about your new lover?”
“No, I’m thinking about what to wear tonight.”
“Yeah, Tribeca’s a bit more upscale. I’m actually gonna have to find a clean shirt with a collar.”
We walked up Broadway until we reached 77th Street.
“I’m gonna grab the one train uptown,” Josh said. “I’ll meet you back here around nine and we’ll take a cab.”
I hugged him goodbye and headed up to my room. As soon as I got inside, I sat down on the bed and took out my phone. I turned it on and waited. The screen lit up. And there it was. A new voice mail message from Dalton. I felt sick. My hands started to shake. I’d experienced this fight-or-flight feeling before.
A couple of months ago on a Sunday afternoon, my sister Wendy called to tell me that our dad had been rushed to the hospital. He’d recently had heart surgery and was now having trouble breathing. My dad’s health had been deteriorating for years, thanks to a pack-a-day smoking habit he had no intention of breaking.
Dalton and I immediately drove to Douglasville, which is about a half-hour west of Atlanta. I was a nervous wreck. When we walked into the waiting room, my entire extended family was there. They were all crying. I saw my sister walking towards me. I could tell by the look on her face t
hat my dad had just died. My knees buckled and Dalton caught me right before I hit the ground. I buried my face in his chest to muffle my scream.
My sisters and I went into my dad’s hospital room. I looked at him lying there in the bed. My mother was standing next to him, holding his hand. I ran and hugged her and cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. She told me it was just his time to go and that he was no longer in any pain. My mother was the strongest person I knew, and even now, after just losing the love of her life, she was determined to be strong for her three girls. I leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. I told him I loved him. In one week, it would be my thirtieth birthday. And my dad wouldn’t be there.
I was still in shock as we all walked out of the hospital. Dalton turned to me. “So like, what do we have to do here?" he said coldly. "I’ve gotta get back to work tomorrow.”
I let go of his hand, which up until that point, had been the only thing keeping me steady on my feet. I started to walk towards my mom, who was a few steps in front of me with my sisters. I kept thinking if I could just make it to her, if I could just grab her hand, I would never look back at Dalton again. He grabbed me by the arm.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling me back to him. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
I wanted to tell him to fuck off right then and there, but I was emotionally gutted. I didn’t have the strength to go through another breakup with Dalton while also trying to deal with the death of my father.
Funeral arrangements were made for Thursday. Dalton worked as an IT consultant and traveled extensively. His current assignment was in Miami. I told him to just fly out on Monday as usual and come back Thursday for the funeral. I had taken the week off and was surrounded by friends and family, including Josh.
Dalton was late for the funeral, of course. He blamed it on Atlanta traffic. My entire family would have preferred that he not even show up. They weren’t fans. Especially my father, who thought Dalton was “the most arrogant son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever met in my life.”
I should have left him a long time ago, but I loved him. More than anything in the world. I’d loved him since the first time I laid eyes on him. I was majoring in English and minoring in Theatre at Georgia Tech. I’d been cast as Jill in a local production of Equus. Dalton was a friend of the director who had recruited him to play the part of Nugget - the Stallion horse. The horses had no lines in the play, but they were an integral part of the story. The person playing Nugget had to be physically imposing and incredibly sexy. Dalton fit the bill on both accounts.
The first day of rehearsal, the entire cast was gathering on the stage for a read-thru. I took a seat at the table, facing out into the audience. The doors in the back of the auditorium opened up and this huge hunk of a man came walking down the aisle. I remember thinking that he looked like some kind of superhero. He jumped up on the stage and we immediately made eye-contact.
He was the tallest, most beautiful man I had ever seen. Six-foot-four with broad shoulders and long dark curly hair. He was a cross between Michael Hutchence of the band INXS and the lead character from that TV show “Renegade,” which was quite popular at the time.
He walked around the table and sat down right next to me. Then he scooted his chair even closer. The smell of him was intoxicating. He was wearing Calvin Klein Eternity for Men.
“Hi! I’m Dalton.”
He had green eyes that were almost as light as mine.
“Sammy,” I smiled.
After the read-thru, the cast went out for drinks in Buckhead. Dalton never left my side, chatting me up the entire night. I learned he was ten years older than me and graduated Georgia Tech with a degree in computer science. He also had a black belt in karate and worked part-time as a bouncer at a couple of bars in Atlanta. He asked me if I wanted to go see Bram Stoker’s Dracula the following night. Then he walked me to my car and kissed me. We were together ever since.
Dalton was my first true love. In the beginning, things were perfect. He was the smartest person I’d ever met and everything I thought a man should be at that stage of my life. The ultimate alpha male - protective, encouraging, and genuinely concerned about my well-being. I would soon find out that he was possessive, manipulating, and cared only about himself.
But he did love me. And he had no trouble telling me. He told everyone, especially when he was drunk. Our sex life had become the talk-of-the-town, especially on guys’ nights out. That’s one of the main reasons I stayed with him. The sex. It was addictive. For years we repeated a viciously unhealthy cycle of co-dependency. We would break up. He would show up. We’d have sex. And then we would make up.
We definitely loved each other. The problem was that Dalton was emotionally abusive. And apparently I was an emotional masochist because I put up with it. He never physically assaulted me. But he regularly beat the shit out of me with his words and with his actions.
A week after my father’s death, on my birthday, I confronted Dalton about his cruel behavior that day. His excuse was that he just wasn’t good at dealing with death. He didn’t know how to help me. I should probably see a psychiatrist. He said all of these things to me before he’d even wished me a happy birthday.
We had plans to go out to dinner that night with Dana and a few of my other friends. Dalton didn’t have to work the next day because it was a holiday weekend. He remembered it was July 4th, yet somehow forgot it was my birthday.
All day, I kept thinking he was going to surprise me. That maybe he had something really special planned because it was my thirtieth and because I’d just lost my dad. But I soon realized he didn’t.
Around five o’clock, I went into the living room of his house where he was at his desk working.
“So, I’m gonna get ready to go out and celebrate my birthday. Are you planning on coming?”
“Oh, yeah, right,” he looked up from his computer. “Happy Birthday. You want a cake or something?”
It got worse.
A few weeks later, Dalton and I were supposed to attend his co-worker’s wedding on Sunday. I spent all of Saturday shopping for the perfect wedding present, finding the perfect card, and getting everything perfectly wrapped. I barely knew the guy that was getting married.
When I arrived at Dalton’s house that night around eight, he wasn’t there. I called his cell phone.
“I’m at Rhonda’s watching a movie,” he said.
Rhonda was one of his so-called platonic friends that always wanted to hang out with Dalton, but never with me. It was obvious she didn’t like me. But that never stopped Dalton from spending time with her. I always wondered how Rhonda would feel if I started hanging out with her boyfriend. Of course, she didn’t have one. I was convinced she wanted mine.
“Okay,” I responded, a bit confused. “Well, I’m here. I thought we were going to Café Intermezzo.”
“I’m leaving soon,” he replied.
Four hours went by without a word from Dalton. At midnight, I left, taking with me the two-hundred-dollar wedding gift that I’d be returning the next day. I changed my access code on the entry to my apartment complex. The next day, I would get my locks replaced. I was done. And this time, I meant it.
I awoke the next morning to a series of voicemail messages from Dalton. I deleted them all. And I avoided him like the plague. I hadn’t seen him, spoken to him, or heard from him until now.
I looked down at my phone again. Then I pressed a couple of buttons. I was prompted by the screen.
“Are you sure you want to delete this message?”
Fuck yeah I’m sure.
CHAPTER 4
◆◆◆
The Bubble Lounge was crowded and the music was loud. Women in little black dresses bounced up and down to Will Smith’s “Wild Wild West” as Wall Street wannabes circled them like sharks. Josh and I navigated our way through the feeding frenzy to the downstairs bar where his friends already had a table. He introduced me.
“Sammy, this is Kyle and Lucy.”
Kyle
was Josh’s co-worker at Ernst & Young, and Lucy was his fiancé. They were a stunning couple. Kyle was a dead ringer for Mario van Peebles. Lucy had jet black hair and porcelain skin. They looked like they’d stepped right out of a Benetton commercial.
“I love your maxi-dress,” Lucy said as Kyle and Josh headed for the bar. “Ralph Lauren, right?”
“It is, actually.” I was surprised she could so accurately identify my dress in such a dimly lit bar. “How did you know?”
“I recognized it from the Bridget Hall ad. I work for Vogue.”
“And now you’re my new best friend.” I sat down next to her. “What do you do at Vogue?”
“Advertising. I’m an account manager. Ralph Lauren is one of our biggest clients.”
“Really? I work for an ad agency in Atlanta. I just interviewed for a position here in the New York office.”
“That’s fantastic! I hope you get it. If not, let me know. We’re always hiring at Vogue.”
“Wow, thank you! That would be a dream. Can I send you my resume?”
“Of course. Josh has my contact info. Feel free.”
“You’re amazing! Thank you so much.”
The guys were back from the bar. Josh handed me a glass of champagne.
“Did Sam tell you about her hot date tomorrow?”
I smiled just thinking about it. I told Lucy and Kyle the story of my chance meeting with The Waiter and how it had turned into a day-date for tomorrow.
“Cheers to that!” Lucy said as she held up her glass. “That’s destiny.”
The four of us toasted. I wondered if it was destiny. Or just a coincidence. I took a sip of champagne. Then I turned to Josh.
“By the way, I called that girl Katie and told her to meet us here.”
“You what?”
“Yeah, after you name-dropped ‘Bubble Lounge’ to The Waiter, I went back to the hotel and called her up.”
“Who is Katie?” Kyle asked.
As if on cue, Katie appeared in the doorway by the stairs.
“That’s Katie.” I waved and motioned her over. She had a big smile and blonde hair styled in a chin-length bob. She reminded me of a very petite Cameron Diaz.
The Waiter Page 2