“I know,” I replied. “I’ll go meet with him today, and if he’s too much, I’ll politely decline.”
“Where are you going to meet him?”
“I’m going to tell him Café Roma. At least I know the coffee is good.”
Tony nodded. “Truth.”
It took another hour for me to be satisfied enough with the first draft of my character art to send it to the author to see if I was going in the right direction. After that, I pulled out my laptop to read through the restaurant owner’s requirements for their website. They wanted something simple and elegant that was easy to navigate. They’d sent me an example of their menu and pictures of the restaurant’s interior to give me ideas for the graphics. Restaurant websites weren’t all that complicated, so it didn’t take me long to put together an estimate of time and cost.
I stood and stretched, cracking my neck, “I should get a keyboard to keep here,” I said contemplatively.
Tony swiveled in his chair to face me. “You’d want to do that?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. That way I don’t have to leave to practice.”
His face lit up with a broad grin. He came over to me and wrapped me in a tight hug. “I would love that.”
I clung to him, breathing him in. I loved that he didn’t use a heavy cologne. It was just his shampoo and something that was essentially him. Reluctantly, I stepped away from him. I checkedthe time. It was already after twelve. “How about we have lunch so we can spend some time together before I have to go uptown.”
He headed toward the kitchen. “Sounds good.”
We ate leftover bolognese, and Tony told me about the town in Italy where his parents were from. The way he described it made me long to see it in person. After we finished eating and cleaned up, I really wanted to take a nap. Instead, I slid my tablet into its case in preparation for my meeting. “Hopefully, Mr. Jameson isn’t too long-winded. I’ll text you when I’m done.”
He pointed at my tablet case. “Why aren’t you taking your laptop?”
“He wants graphics. I’m not redesigning the website.”
“Got it.”
I kissed him. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
“I’ll be here.”
I took the subway uptown from Penn Station and made it to Café Roma with five minutes to spare. It was then that I realized I’d never asked Mr. Jameson how I would identify him. I shook my head. This job was weird from end to end. I’d almost decided to say, “fuck it” and head back to Tony’s when I saw a man seated at one of the half-dozen black wrought-iron outdoor tables waving his hand at me.
“Damn,” I muttered.
For a moment, I wondered how he’d recognized me, then I remembered I had my picture on my website. Maybe I should take that down. With a sigh, I headed toward him.
Paul Jameson rose when I got to the table. He was of average height, with dark hair and faded blue eyes. I held out my hand. “Mr. Jameson. Thank you for meeting me here.”
He took my hand in a rather limp shake that made me want to shudder. “It’s no problem at all. And please call me Paul. May I call you Greg?”
“Of course,” I said with a wan smile. Something about this guy was off, but I couldn’t figure out what. I shook off my unease, trying to be professional. Noting the mug of coffee on the table, I gestured toward the door of the café, “I’m going to get some coffee. I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time, Greg.”
I smiled when I saw Brendan at the counter. “Hey, Brendan. How are you doing?”
He returned my smile. “Really good. I sold a few paintings at the show, and I got the attention of an artist who wants to mentor me.”
“That’s great. I’m happy for you. I’m sorry we had to leave so suddenly. Tony’s father had a heart attack, and we had to get down to Jersey.”
He nodded. “I heard. I hope his dad is okay.”
I smirked. “He’s getting there. He’s stubborn and doesn’t want to listen.”
He huffed a short laugh. “I know what that’s like. What can I get you?”
