I place my clutch on the table, take a seat and scan the room to get my bearings. We’re seated in a small upstairs area that has four round top tables and chairs, but we’re the only ones here. It’s just us and the bartender.
“I thought your name was Jason.”
“It is.”
“I was told I was meeting someone named John.”
“Are you disappointed?” He gnaws on a part of his bottom lip as he waits for my answer.
“No, just surprised.”
“You look amazing, Adrienne. I’m a very lucky man tonight.”
I blush for a moment and then compose myself.
“Forgive me for saying this, but you don’t seem the type to use a matchmaking agency.”
“Because of my extremely good looks?” He grins playfully.
“That and because you don’t strike me as someone looking for a serious attachment.”
“So youdothink I’m good looking?”
I can’t help but laugh at his high-spirited arrogance.
“Do you need me to say it, pretty boy?” I play along.
“Yes,” he stares at me straight on. “I need you to say it.”
“You look very… good tonight as well.”
“Thank you. I agree. Now that we’ve gotten the pleasantries out of the way, why don’t we look at the menu.”
“The owner recommended the veal.”
“Ooh, which dish?”
“The piccata.”
“Let’s get that and the marsala and share.”
“Umm, ok.”
“Red or white?”
I see he’s back to playing his favorite game of this or that.
“Red.”
“Perfect.”
He raises two fingers at the bartender, who soon brings over a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon for us.
“How did he know that two fingers meant red?”
“Two fingers meant Cabernet and I told him ahead of time.”
“That’s so weird.”
