Page 30 of A Very Friendly Valentine's Day
She doesn’t even pretend to find me charming. “Uh-huh.” The phone in her hand vibrates. “Okay, I have to take this, but who’s your agent?”
“Rita Baskin.”
“Cool.”
That’s it.
That’s all she says before answering her phone, picking up her handbag, and walking out of the dining room.
“What the fuck just happened?”
I look over at Birdie, who is smiling from ear to ear. “She’s a casting director, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. Big-time. She’s practically a legend. Did you know who she was? Is that why you got me to do that?”
She shrugs. “I just wanted a little theater with my dinner.”
Well, shit. I never thought of Birdie as a sneaky girl, but I like it. I never would have done that if I knew there was a casting director in here and she knows it.
“Dinner’s on me,” I tell her.
“It’s included with the train fare.”
“Drinks are on me.”
“Deal,” she says. “Just don’t let me get too tipsy.”
“No deal. There was no mention of a limit to alcohol consumption in your guidelines. You said, ‘responsibly and at a reasonable rate.’ We’re both being very responsible, and if anything, we’re drinking a little too slowly.”
“I would like to amend my guidelines to include a few things.”
“Too late, milady. That train has left the station.” When a waiter comes by, I order another bottle of wine with dinner. “So…what’s the verdict? I’m too manly for Romeo now, aren’t I?”
She blushes. The lady doth blush just enough, methinks. “Just manly enough,” she whispers, looking away.
Maybe it’s motion sickness.
Maybe it’s the wine.
Maybe it’s the friendly Romeo performance—the Fromeo monologues.
But she looks a little flustered. And I’m feeling a little confused and dizzy too. And I don’t hate it.
