Page 78 of The Love Dose
Before Sam can reply, Mo pipes up. “Maybe he wants to participate in the auction.”
Sam makes a face and I realize all of us are picking up on the same vibe.
“Don’t be silly,” Sam says, nibbling on a slice of French bread. By now, I know Sam and even if she is irritated, she’s soaking in the club’s attention. I’m glad. She deserves it. A bachelor auction where the winner pays five figures to Bernard’s charity for a date with an eligible professional, is her brainchild. So far, an extremely successful one.
Barbie and Mo fill us in on their hectic professional lives. Love hasn’t yet found a way to squeeze into their tight schedules but I’m certain it will. They are amazing, accomplished women. Both of them.
I glance at my watch. “Thanks for lunch, ladies. Gotta skedaddle. I’m meeting Calvin and Chacha in an hour.”
This is the first time I accepted the club’s offer to pay for my lunch. I thought it would feel horrible but once I relented, it was fine. I’m learning it’s not a handout, it’s friendship.
“Where are you going?” Evie asks.
“MSG.”
Barbie lifts a brow. “Is there a show happening there tonight?”
“Actually, I’m not sure. Calvin’s being a bit mysterious.”
I blow kisses across the table and then hug Evie close. She and I are going to get together again early next week, just the two of us, before she has to leave again. That’s when I’ll tell her about my upcoming move to Vermont this summer. All Evie knows is that I’m going to Sugarbush Falls with Calvin and Chacha for the weekend. She has no clue I’m moving there, permanently.
I stepoff the subway at 34th Street and take the escalator up to street level, then make my way outside. It’s a lovely spring afternoon—clear skies, a gentle breeze, and the kind of weather that makes the whole city feel alive. Still, my heart beats faster just thinking about returning to Vermont. It must be stunning this time of year.
I wait for the light and then cross the Seventh Avenue. It’s been a while since I’ve been to this part of the city but Calvin called me before lunch, sounding cryptic and playful. “Meet me at Madison Square Garden,” he’d said.
“Why?"
"I’ve got a gig," he replied, like it’s no big deal.
"Agig? At MSG?"
Calvin had a band back in his twenties, but MSG? No chance.
I pressed him but he stopped answering my questions, leaving off with specific instructions.“I’ll leave a ticket for you at the counter. First row, five p.m. sharp. Don’t be late." And with that, he hung up.
I spot the marquee outside the Garden. The headliner is some musician I’ve never heard of, one of those names the younger crowd loves but I can’t quite place. The show starts at eight, three hours from now. Confused, I’m about to call Calvin when a text comes through.
Are you here?
Yep, a bit early
You’re right on time. C u inside.
Before I walk in, I pass a couple of makeshift tables lining the sidewalk, selling cheap knockoff merch—bootleg t-shirts, hats, and glow sticks. Teens crowd around, snatching up gear. Is it me, or do these kids look way too young to be here without parental supervision, buying illegal swag?
As promised, a ticket is waiting for me and I make my way inside. The hallway is buzzing with energy. Various staff, toting clipboards and speaking into head mics, scurry past as I make my way forward. There’s no sign of Calvin.
I hear the band rehearsing and enter the arena. It’s massive, cavernous, the atmosphere electric but not with audience members. The seats are empty.
Someone is testing the lighting, adding to the sensory bombardment. It’s surreal and exhilarating.
I head toward the stage, wondering what on Earth Calvin has planned. I’ve been here before for a Billy Joel concert, but this feels different. The anticipation is ramping up.
I find my seat. Front row, center. The moment I settle, the lights dim, and when the spotlight hits the stage, I see him.
Calvin, with a guitar slung across his chest, looking every bit the musician he once was.
My heart is racing like a thoroughbred in my chest as I watch him step up to the mic. The band behind him starts playing. I instantly recognize the familiar opening chords ofSweet Caroline. Unless I’m going crazy, the keyboard player is tonight’s headliner. He’s playing backup to Calvin! Behind me, I hear several people join in, belting out the words, but I’m frozen in place, in shock.
