Allison walks in talking to her friend Margot on the phone.
"Okay, I'm here. I'm going to get off soon. Let me just tell you how it looks," she says. "Wow, there's kind of a lot of people here. It's nice. Classy, kind of modern. Kind of bright. I wonder if they turn the lights down later?
"Awesome. There's a chair at the bar right in front of me. Let me grab it," she says, as she sits in the high bar chair. "There's got to be like close to 50 people here. Not bad."
The L-shaped bar is 20 feet from the main entrance, and groups of mostly twenty-somethings and thirty-somethings, along with a handful of older folks, are clustered around the dozen chairs. Most are still in their work clothes. Clearly,this is the Thursday night after-work drinking crowd. Some clusters of people stand in the main bar area, drinks in hand, with no tables or chairs.
"So, there's the mirror behind the bar. It's all pretty much white and green," she says, turning in the chair to face the room, surveying the decor. "Kind of Spring Green, you know, a little bluish yellowish green. Whatever. That doesn't make too much sense.
"Anyway, the walls are white. Not a lot of art. Floor kind of a slate green. Looks clean.
"I'm definitely having a cosmo while I wait for Travis. But I'm not waiting more than 20 minutes. If he doesn't show up, I'm finishing my drink and leaving."
"Oh please. How are you suppsed to find him?"
"Hello, there," the bartender stands smiling, ready to take her drink order.
"Hello! How are you this afternoon! Besides cute as the dickens?"
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. Margot, the bartender is adorable," she says into the phone, then, "I want a cosmopolitan. This is definitely a cosmopolitan place," she says smiling.
"Right away, miss."
"He is, he's cute. Young, but cute.
Anyway, no Travis is supposed to find me. He's supposed to just somehow know it's me. I don't know. Sam was very cagey about this whole thing. I don't think anyone is showing up. But at least I'll have a cosmo and see this place.
"So anyway, let me see, what else to tell you about," she says looking around again.
Surveying the room, she sees Edward Lancaster paying for a drink, looking at her. He does not smile, but nods his head slightly, to acknowledge seeing her. "She sees me," he thinks. "I wonder if I should go talk to her. She's waving, I guess it's okay...
t would be rude not to go say hello. I'll just tell her I'm surprised to see her here, and see if she wants to talk. She must be meeting someone. Sam? I wonder what they'll think that I'm here."
"Oh, my God! There's Edward," she reports to Margot. "He sees me. I'm waving," she says as she smiles and waves. "I'm sure I look like a dork."
"Who's he with?"
"I can't tell. Looks like he's by himself. He picked up his drink. He didn't turn to anybody. He was looking at me. Stepping away from the bar. Yikes, it looks like he might be coming over here. If he does, I'm definitely getting off the phone. I hope I don't act like an idiot. I get all melty around him. It's totally bizarre."
"You have a crush on him," Margot says.
"Uh, Yeah!" she says emphatically. It's a feeling Allison is not used to. She can't remember being this infatuated with her husband even, and she has never felt any strong reaction to a man since he died. What is it about Edward that makes her feel like a high school girl?
"He is definitely coming this way. Let me get off and pretend I'm all cool and collected. Talk to you tomorrow. I'll tell you about Travis, too, if there's anything to tell. I don't believe anybody is going to actually show up, though."
She closes her phone and sticks it in her purse as Edward arrives. "Hello!" and smiles.
The bartender sets down her drink.
"Thank you," she smiles broadly at him. She's nervous, hoping she isn't over-reacting. Turns back toward Edward, crosses her legs, trying to appear confident. "Oh my God, he's so gorgeous," she repeats to herself for the eleven thousandth time that day. Out loud, "Hey, this is a pleasant surprise."
"It's nice to see you, too. I guess if we had known the other was coming, we could have come together," he says, thinking, "that's such a lame thing to say. Why do I care what she thinks?" He can feel his embarrassment, hoping he doesn't look too flushed.
"Are you meeting someone?" he asks, trying to sound casual.
"Yes. Travis Bickle," she answers, and watches for his reaction.
"Who's that?"
"Travis Bickle? You don't know Travis Bickle?"
"No," he answers earnestly, trying to think where he may have heard the name.
"Travis Bickle is Robert DeNiro's character in Taxi Driver. The psycho," she smiles, embarrassed. It sounds so stupid saying it to him. It was cute when it was just between her and Sam, or telling it to Margot.
"You're waiting for a psycho?"
"Either that or a man in a mohawk."
He doesn't say anything.
"Actually, I'm supposed to be meeting the man that Sam Winston thinks I'm going to marry. He just decided to give him a code name of Travis Bickle. We always give people names of characters in movies. I don't know why he decided my date needs a crazy person's name. It was kind of cute until I told you..."
"That's weird, isn't it? Sam set you up with a date?"
"Please! He's been trying to get me to date for months. He thinks I should be ready now. I don't know..." she trails off. "I would be totally ready if I could just get your attention," she thinks to herself.
"Isn't it a bit insulting for him to set you up with somebody else?" he persists.
"Why would I be insulted? He's always looked after me.
"I mean, I guess as far as a mentor goes, it's a bit of overreach, but he's always guided me right. I give him the benefit of the doubt. He knows me well. He knew me before I got married. He knew my husband. I've known him my whole adult life. If he thinks he found someone perfect for me, I have to at least be curious and open."
"But what about the two of you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're relationship."
"Our relationship? You make it sound like we're having an affair or something," she says, and laughs nervously. She looks at him for his reaction. Is that what he's saying, or am I misreading him, she thinks.
Edward sets his drink down, behind her on the bar. He nervously runs his hand over his chin. "How did we get to this subject so fast?" he wonders.
"You think we're having an affair just because we meet in a movie theatre on Friday afternoons and go to an ice cream parlor?" She's indignant. She sounds offended.
"It's kind of a big jump from movies and ice cream to having an affair, don't you think?"
Suddenly, Edward is on the defensive. Is she denying it? Is she actually saying it's not true? Or is she just turning the tables on him, to get off the hot seat?
"I can see why you would be suspicious of people, given what happened," Allison continues, softening up. She always looks for love and understanding in a situation. She is not one to stay offended. "But I have never slept with Sam Winston. I promised myself a long time ago I would never sleep with a married man. I can't believe you thought that about me. Or about Sam, for that matter."
Edward was at a loss. He believed she was telling the truth. He was relieved to think,"She's not with Sam?" He was embarrassed that he had thought sleezy, judgmental thoughts that weren't true. He was excited that she was sitting there in front of him, not in a relationship. There. For him. An honest woman. With integrity. Single. Would she forgive him his suspicions? She was suddenly ten times more beautiful than she had been before. But he was a heel. He was a jerk, an ass.
Apologize. Now. Fast.
"I'm sorry. I just thought...
"I was told, you were Sam's 'special girl,' and I should stay away from you. I thought that meant...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed anything. I hope you can forgive me."
"I forgive you. Who told you that? Would tell you that? I didn't think anybody thought that about us."
"I..."
"Oh, I know. Daniel Iverson told you that, didn't he? He told you that when he hired you!" she practically yelled, it, smiling now. "That asshole! That makes so much sense. Is that what happened? He would want you to stay away from me, because he knows I would try to bring you into the Sam Winston camp. They feud, you know. Come on, tell me, is that it?"
"What's the Sam Winston camp?"
"No, answer me first," she says, giving him a playful shove on the arm. "Did he actually say we were having an affair, or did he just lead you to believe it?"
"He said, 'stay away from Allison Bossard. She's pretty, but she's Sam Winston's special girl. You don't want to get near that'."
"He's such a jerk! I am SO going to get revenge! That's like he declared war!" she says, though she is still smiling.
Their eyes meet, and neither says a word for several seconds.
"Don't worry. I won't tell him you turned him in," then she laughs. "This is going on for years. Those two - Sam and Daniel - they feud publicly all the time. They do stuff like that to each other. But I suspect, that they secretly, I don't know, call or text each other, and are like soul mates. If Sam was gay, they'd definitely be lovers!"
"So, you're saying Daniel is gay?"
"Totally! That's why I'm sure he loved you when he interviewed you. There you are, gorgeous, sexy, competent, qualified. And hungry! You came in wanting to do something, and he could hear that. He was probably beside himself. I'm sure he gets off just thinking of you in your office."
"Now you're making me believe he's gay. You're doing what he did."
"Don't take my word for it. But, it doesn't really matter. What's important is, what are you going to do with the job now that you have it? You can be a hero."
"Gorgeous and sexy?"
"I practically swoon. I have such a crush on you. I haven't had a crush since Middle School," she says, trying to shrug off the embarrassment of her proclamation. It may as well be said and done with.
He gazes at her before responding. "I want to be the man who deserves you."
"Okay. I am all for that."
"I tell myself not to think about you, but I think about you."
"I think about you all the time."
"Now I can let myself think about you. I would never try to interfere with somebody's relationship. I know what that's like, and it's wrong. But I'm so drawn to you. I want to know you," he says as he touches her face lightly.
"Maybe you're my Travis Bickle."
"The other one didn't show up."
"What time is it?" she asks, and fishes for her cell phone in her purse. "Where's your date?"
"Let me see," he says as he pulls his phone out of his breast pocket. He checks messages. "He's not coming. I was supposed to have dinner with our friend Daniel. He sent a text. 'Can't be there. call you Monday'."
He looks up. "Will you have dinner with me?"
"I'd be happy to have dinner with you."
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