Page 7 of Someone Just Like You

“I’ll take it.” With the grace of a pianist, George retrieved the tablet from beneath our double grip and stood. “Why don’t you call me when you have a head count.” He gave a curt nod, turned on his heel, and mumbled, “Or better yet…don’t.”

Jude and I watched him retreat with open mouths.

“I guess we can cross Society Cafe off our list,” I said.

“No thanks to you.”

I’d been shaking out my hand but froze. “Me?What about you?”

Jude ignored me.

“What now?” I asked.

Jude was silent for a moment, as if momentarily thrown by the question, then finally said, “I set up another meeting for tonight at Bistrot Leo on Thompson.” He chewed his lip. “Sorry I didn’t run it by you first, but my manager used to work there, and he just suggested it today. The guy I spoke with said to drop by after our meeting here.”

“Let’s do it.” I wasn’t thrilled with the late notice, but his apology appeared sincere, and I liked the idea of sealing this deal before I went to bed tonight. I stood to go.

Jude stood too. “Actually, do you mind if I meet you there? I need to stop at the pharmacy to pick up meds for Yogi.”

I hitched a breath. “Is he okay?” I’d only met Jude’s puppy—a goldendoodle named for baseball icon Yogi Berra—once, but it was love at first sight.

“Digestive issues,” Jude said with a wrinkle of his nose. “But he’ll be okay.”

My shoulders dropped an inch in relief that it was nothing serious. “How about we meet there in…” I glanced at my Apple watch. It was five after seven. “Is eight good?”

He grinned. “Perfect.”

Since I had time, I enjoyed a leisurely stroll through Greenwich Village. The sidewalks were crowded with people spilling out of the many bars and restaurants. I breathed in the air of Manhattan in the summer—a combination of garbage, sweat, and cigarettes, but also a dizzying mix of aromas from the many different kitchens in the area—pizza, Mexican, fried everything. Starving, I stopped for a slice at Joe’s and sat in Father Demo Square across the street.

A few minutes before eight, I arrived at Bistrot Leo and waited for Jude outside, where potted plants surrounded the semi-open restaurant. I reviewed the questions on my phone determined not to let Jude bulldoze me again. When he still hadn’t shown up by the time I was finished, I considered going in without him. He might be pissed, but with Jude it was also quite possible he wouldn’t care. Also, it wasn’t like he’d waited for me at the last place, so I owed him no consideration. Stan had sent a text with a funny baseball meme, and after responding with the skull emoji and confirming our date for the following night after his game, I entered the restaurant.

The space was softly lit with an intimate ambiance. I approached the hostess, a white woman around my age with a long, sleek blond ponytail and huge brown eyes. “Hi there. I’m supposed to talk to someone about holding an anniversary party here in October.” When she looked at me blankly, I realized I didn’t have a name for thesomeonein question. “My friend…” I gulped at the misnomer, but what else could I call him? My enemy? Business partner? “He spoke with someone earlier today who said to come by tonight.”

She smiled politely. “Of course. Give me one minute and I’ll check with my manager.”

While I waited, I brought up Yelp on my phone to see if any of the reviews mentioned parties. I hadn’t found any by the time the hostess returned.

“Unfortunately, there’s no one here to talk with you tonight, but we can definitely set something up for a later date,” she said in an apologetic tone. “But do you happen to have the name of who your friend spoke with?”

I glanced over my shoulder. “He should be here already. Let me text him.”

Molly:Are you on your way? I’m here and they asked the name of who you spoke with.

While we waited for Jude to respond, I stood awkwardly while she said good night to an older couple on their way out.

My phone pinged.

Jude:Don Messwidme.

I turned back to the hostess with a smile. “The guy’s name is Don Messwidme.” I froze.Wait. I repeated it slowly hoping I was wrong. “Don Mess-wid-me.” I wasn’t wrong.The little fucker.

The hostess’s lips quirked.

Embarrassment seeped through me. “You know what? We’ll call to set something up. Sorry for wasting your time.”

I scurried out the door, my chest heaving with anger, and plopped myself on the nearest bench.

Molly:There’s no meeting, is there?

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