Page 8 of The Love Dose
Do cannibals hang out in bars on the Upper West Side?
Seriously though, can’t a lady get a drink alone in this town?
As I take another swig from my glass, I consider going elsewhere. But why should I allow some guy to determine my plans?
Before I can say as much, the mutterer between us lets out the belch of all belches. Booming, resonant. Like a monster-sized toad. It’s enough to pause conversations at the tables nearby.
I’m fighting to hold in my laughter. I’m doing just fine until I make the mistake of glancing at Calvin.
His face is beet red. The guy between us is too sloshed to notice. The bartender steps closer to me, holding up the bottle of Woodford Reserve. “More burping?” he asks, his cheeks turning crimson with the slip of his tongue. “I mean bourbon!”
I lose it. Laughter explodes from my mouth.
The bald guy looks perplexed, downs the last of his drink, nods perfunctorily and lets another one rip, this one offering a blowback of his stenchy breath.
Groans of disgust emanate from those around us as the guy staggers away.
While I’m a complete goner, Calvin is bowled over on his stool, his head somewhere between his knees and the floor.
I haven’t laughed this hard in forever. The release is like a pop-up deluge, washing away the grime.
When the tears finally stop, Calvin sidles closer, taking the burper’s vacated seat.
“Want to get out of here?” he asks.
We just got here. “And go where?”
“It’s a surprise.” Calvin’s smile lingers on his lips. His eyes are playful, matching his odd choice of clothing.
I don’t know what to make of him, showing up as unexpectedly as he left and now asking me to follow him to some unnamed destination. Also, he’s wearing teeth.
But Calvin’s looking at me with pleading puppy dog eyes, awaiting my reply. I think of the times he was sitting next to my hospital bed when I woke from a nap, ready with a silly joke or a pumpkin spice latte. I feel my resolve weaken and return his smile with one of my own.
“Sure, why not?”
Maybe there are worse ways to go than being eaten by Dr. Handsome.
Calvin plops a twenty onto the bar and grabs my coat, helping me put it on. The closeness stirs something in me I’ve been trying for weeks to dispel.
I follow him to the door. What’s a little more excitement in my life?
Chapter Six
Caroline
Of all the destinations Calvin could have brought me to, this isn’t one I would have guessed. We’re on the third floor of the iconic toy store on Fifth Avenue, open late, on holiday hours. The place is crowded, everyone toting bags laden with new purchases. Kids are running all over.
Calvin examines a blue and white stuffed elephant like he's inspecting a precious gem. Maybe he has a friend whose grandkid is having a birthday.
He pays for the toy at the checkout and we find the café on the second floor where we’re surrounded by tinsel and faux trees with every imaginable decoration and toy-themed ornament.
We order two cappuccinos and a butter croissant to share. When in the Big Apple, even toy stores offer espresso. Calvin sits across from me.
Only now do I realize his face is tanned. I guess I was too angry—or hurt—to notice before.
I take a casual sip of my coffee. “Were you on vacation?”
“Uh, no. Why do you ask?”
