“Sort of.”
“No way. You ever meet anyone famous?”
I shook my head. “Where are you from? Your accent reminds me of where I grew up.”
“Just outside of New Orleans. How about you?”
“Virginia.”
“A Southern gal in the city! I dig it.”
“How’d you end up in New York?” I asked. I genuinely missed the art of conversation. Especially without Charlie.
“I’m a playwright. Well, I’m trying to be. I studied theater at Tulane, then worked as a bartender in the French Quarter. I became something of a local celebrity there, and the owner of this bar poachedme. Convinced me I’d make more money in Manhattan and be closer to the theater action.”
“How’d you become a local celebrity?”
“You’ll laugh.”
“I promise not to.”
“I got pretty famous for my pisco sour, and the Food Network did a segment on me forBartender Battles.”
“That’s amazing. Can you make one here?”
“We’re mostly a wine bar, but I keep all the ingredients handy in case anyone recognizes me.” He winked.
“Now I can say I’ve met someone famous. Can you make me one?”
“If you let me put in a panini. Not to overstep, but you’re a wispy little thing.”
I laughed. “Okay. One panini, please.”
I learned that Pete was working on a revival ofThe Three Musketeers, only with two women and a transgender D’Artagnan. It was up for a slot at the prestigious St. Ann’s Warehouse in Brooklyn, a feeder for shows that eventually swept the Tonys.
“Now you know everything there is to know about me. How come you’re here talking to me on a blustery Friday afternoon?”
“Isn’t that what New York is all about? Popping into a bar by yourself and meeting a celebrity bartender on his way to becoming the next big playwright?”
“Sure. You just seemed on a mission there with that bottle of wine.”
“You’re not wrong.”
I watched him chop lemon wedges as I mentally replayed everything that had brought me to Pete’s bar.
Reliving the last time I’d seen Charlie made my chest hurt.
“I hurt someone,” I said quietly.
“Did they deserve it?”
“No. Not even a little bit.”
“Did you apologize?”
“I didn’t get a chance to. He moved to help take care of his mom. Who has cancer.”
Pete winced. “You hurt the guy who moved home to take care of his sick mom?”
