Chapter 4
“Welcome, ladies. How many?” The hostess at Hugo’s greeted us with a big smile on her face, her eyelids coated with dark eye shadow that was applied heavily rather than artfully. Yikes!
“Party of four,” said Meryl sweetly.
“It’s going to be a bit of a wait. Can we interest you in a drink at the bar?”
“How long’s the wait for a table?” Meryl asked as she put on her professional face.
“About twenty minutes, but I’ll see what we can do for you Ms. Harrington,” the hostess beamed. I realized that Meryl was a regular here, wining and dining her clients. She was glowing with pride as the Hugo’s hostess did all she could to accommodate us. Hugo’s hosted a number of Meryl’s charity events, resulting in significant donations to various foundations. Unlike the philanthropic Meryl, I never was the charitable type; maybe because I was too focused on keeping my life together, I didn’t have the energy to look out for anyone else.
Ivy then stepped up, “Is Jacob Shields dining tonight? He’s a close friend. If not, I know he’d be happy to give us his table. Should I give him call?”
“Oh, Mr. Shields. That shouldn’t be necessary,” the hostess’s attitude shifted. She looked at Ivy with eyes of wonder and then leafed through her reservations list, stopping cold. She looked up with a toothy smile. “Mr. Shields cancelled this morning as he said he was going out of town!”
“Perfect!” Ivy lit up with self-satisfaction. With that she swooped up four menus, whisked us over to a great four-seater overlooking Rush Street and daintily passed the menus.
“What was that?” I asked Ivy.
“What?” Ivy shrugged. “Jacob’s one of my bosses at the PR firm, and he owns like half the city,” she said. “I knew he was out of town.”
“Really?” said Ella with an arched brow. In my line of work, I had certainly met a quite a few divas who knew how to secure the VIP treatment, and I was proud to say one of them was my new roommate.
As we’d walked to our table, I noticed all eyes were on our foursome. That’s when I realized I was traveling with a highly attractive entourage. Ella was rocking some Jeffrey Campbell boots, making her legs look like they went on for days. Meryl wore pale pink lace and carried a Birkin bag; and Ivy was stunning in a black satin dress that glistened in the dim lighting. I knew my trademark red dress flattered my figure, and my confidence was boosted by our runway walk from the front door to our table. Being with these girls helped keep my shyness at bay. I waved the bartender over; he must not have been a day over twenty-one. He smiled cutely, “What can I get you ladies?”
“St. Germaine’s and soda for me,” I said. “What are you girls drinking? Tonight’s on me.”
“Oh no, Bobbie. You’re not buying!” Meryl tapped my hand three times. This was her signal for me to back down.
“Nothing for me. I’m not drinking,” Ella said.
“Oh, come on Ella, just one drink,” I insisted. She looked at me with a chilly expression, and I instantly regretted my words.
But then she shrugged her shoulders. “Okay,” she said, giving in. “One won’t kill me. Pinot Grigio, okay?”
I smiled with relief.
“Holy hot bartender!” Ivy shouted as the bartender walked away. “I triple dog dare you to leave your number on a napkin.” I did.
Our conversation finally began to flow like the drinks I continued to order. We all had much more in common than I had previously guessed. I discovered Ella had been a dancer for the majority of her life, which explained her poise. I assumed she was the kind of person who expressed herself without words. I happily informed her that we weren’t so different. I’d been a dancer for fifteen years but I had only stuck with my ballet career as long as I did only because my mother had insisted that it gave me grace. Ella’s passionate side came out as she told the stories of her past performances. She had danced in the Joffrey Nutcracker and still took classes at Hubbard Street. Ella urged me to come with her some time. She was much more talkative after her first cocktail, and although I had no desire ever to put my feet back into a pair of ballet shoes, I thought it might be worthwhile if it helped us bond.
Ivy went to the bathroom three times while we were at the table. She said she had a nervous bladder. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but her anxious energy was contagious. I couldn’t help but laugh at her whimsical personality. She was drinking rum and Coke—and not Diet Coke. I wondered where all the calories went in her slim figure.
The jazzy music of the restaurant put me at ease along with the hum of voices and clinking forks and knives. The four of us decided to order several appetizers instead of entrees. We picked, sipped, and chatted. I hadn’t been surrounded by so many girls in quite some time. I was on my third drink when I found myself revealing a side of me that I usually kept hidden.
“I might just have another drink!” Ella said.
“Easy, tiger,” Ivy warned. “Let’s relocate to Luxe Bar for drinks. My friend Danny is working and that means free drinks. Wahoo!”
“You mean Danny Danny? Your slampiece?” Ella snorted.
“He wishes!” Ivy threw on her coat.
I was surprised I wasn’t tired, like I usually felt after a few drinks, but it was hard not to be energized around the girls. Ivy took my hand and danced into the entrance of Luxe bar, the lights flashing, music bumping, and crowd surging. I felt alive.
“Vodka soda!” Ella yelped down the bar, looking back at me and giggling. She ordered the drink with the best buzz to calorie ratio. Nice work. The bartender handed her the drink, shooting her a seductive wink. She blushed.
“Bartender just checked you out!” I informed Ella. She shushed me, embarrassed.
“That’s the spirit!” Ivy slapped Ella’s back, which caused her glass to slip from her fingertips, slide down the bar with a life of its own, and spill all over a curly-haired man wearing a linen sport coat.
“What the—” he sputtered turning around to see the culprit.
Ella tried to say something, but nothing was coming out. She stood like a deer in headlights.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, apologizing for her. Ivy was holding her stomach, cackling. Meryl was trying not to laugh, grabbing napkins.
“Let us buy you a drink,” I said as a peace offering. Making everyone happy had always been my role and now it was my job—I was a professional. I knew this guy couldn’t turn down four pretty women. We officially had the attention of everyone around the bar. I felt like I should have been embarrassed by my friends, but I wasn’t.
“Is your friend okay?” Tacky Linen Sport Coat Guy asked me, nodding at Ella, who still stood frozen. Ivy pinched her butt. She quickly snapped back to reality.
“I’m really sorry,” she stammered. “Do you need more napkins?”
“It’s okay. It’s not the end of the world,” he smiled at her reassuringly. “You know about dry cleaners, right? I’m Steven.” He reached his hand out to Ella and gazed at her a little too long. Oh great, I thought, the perfect opportunity for Linen Sport Coat Guy to hit on her. I was eager to hear which line he would try. I would have bet that nine out of the ten men standing around the bar were wishing she would spill a drink on them.
Ella introduced him to Meryl and Ivy, evidently hoping to pawn him off on one of them.
“Nice to meet you, Steven in linen,” Ivy said. I chuckled. Ivy continued, “Don’t you know it’s autumn now?”
“Are you saying my coat isn’t stylish? It’s just because I don’t have a gorgeous girl like you to dress me,” Steven said. Oh, gag me!
“Yeah okay, buddy. I prefer big boys who can dress themselves,” Ivy spoke down to him like he was dog. With a grin, she sipped her drink. The girls chuckled, and the server brought over Steven’s peace offering drink.
“Thank you for this,??
? he said. “Maybe you girls can spill on me again some other time.”
I raised my eyebrows. Could he be any more tacky? Is single life always this entertaining? Ella groaned as we turned to make our way through the crowd. “I really hope he didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” she said in a low voice.
Linen Sport Coat retreated to his booth where he and his two friends kept sneaking glances at us. If I had to guess, I’d say his friends were financial analysts, and Tacky Sport Coat Guy was working for an insurance company. A server brought over a bottle of champagne. “From the men at the booth.” I gave them a wave, praying they wouldn’t come over.
Ivy poked at her phone. “Ugh. How do I delete this stupid horoscope app!?”
I was definitely buzzed as I turned to the group and asked, “What’s your sign?”
Ivy looked at me from under her eyelashes, “Really? That’s like a question someone would ask on eHarmony.”
“How would you know what’s on eHarmony, loser?” Ella giggled at herself.
I continued, “I used to date this crazy guy in college named Francis who used to tell me my daily horoscope; I even let him read my cards once.”
“What you dated a psychic? Don’t tell me you’re into that zodiac hocus pocus. Ella is too. Bunch of B.S. if you ask me,” Ivy shouted over the noise.
“This was during Bobbie’s hippie, save the world, no showering, backpack Europe days. Francis had dreadlocks too!” Meryl gave me a look.
“What?! he was totally hot, for a hippie!” I defended.“Meryl, you’re a Cancer, like me. We’re supposed to come off as shy, yet honest. When we are uncomfortable, like crabs we retreat into our respective shells.”
Ivy leaned in, her interest roused.
“It was weird because Francis was pretty spot on. It threw me off when he told me that my favorite numbers were three and seven, which is true.”
“What else did he say?”
“Supposedly Cancer the crab is ruled by the mystery of the moon. We’re loaded with contradictions and constantly working for stability, whether it’s emotionally, romantically, or financially. We’re jealous, moody, insecure. But we’re close to our family and friends. So, there you have it, me in a crab shell.”
Meryl laughed and said, “Bobbie, that is spot on.”
“I know—creepy isn’t it?” I said.
Ivy raised an eyebrow. “What about me? My birthday is April Fool’s Day. I know I’m an Aries, but that’s about it. Do you know anything about Aries?”
“Ah, Aries, if I remember right. . . your element is fire,” I mused.
“No surprise there,” mumbled Ella.
I dug into the memories of my ‘organic’ days when Francis would waft in with the newest aromatherapy trend and a printout of my daily horoscope. He was always telling me to get in touch with my inner crab—and to lose the shell.
“Let me check,” I said. I snatched Ivy’s phone and began reading the app. “Okay, Aries. Your life pursuit is the thrill of the moment. You’re always enthusiastic, and you like to be a leader. You tend to trust your gut before your thoughts, which can be troublesome if you find yourself in the middle of some kind of drama. You retreat easily in order to think about the aftermath of your actions. But you’re the life of the party!” I winked. “I added that last part myself.”
Everyone laughed.
Meryl chimed in. “I have the same app on my phone. I know I’m a Cancer and strangely, it’s usually pretty accurate! It says I’m strong and bold on the outside, but sensitive on the inside.” She smiled.
I nodded. “I agree with that, Meryl,” I teased her. I had a flashback to a midnight phone call from Meryl a few years back. She had called off an engagement to her fiancé. To this day, I never really understood why. She had refused to share the details. “But seriously, you are strong about what you believe in. You don’t back down, especially, when it comes to taking care of others, or defending the underdog. You are a true Cancer.” I was definitely drunk.
Ella sat quietly listening, her hands crossed neatly in her lap. I wasn’t sure if she was having fun.
“What about you Ella? When’s your birthday?” I asked.
“I’m a Pisces,” she said proudly.
“Pisces, that’s the fish. Do you know much about Pisces?”
“Some,” she answered, not giving me much to work with. I looked at Ivy’s phone app for more information.
“Well, am I right to say that Pisces are intuitive, imaginative, kind, and sensitive?” I asked.
She nodded in agreement. “I think so.”
“On the dark side, Pisces are a bit secretive, are they not?”
“True,” she confirmed, reaching for her drink. I didn’t want to push her any more, as my intuition was telling me Ella felt awkward when she was put on the spot. I could relate.
I suddenly realized as I looked up at the clock against the main wall of the bar that it was almost midnight. I still had not prepped for my meetings the next day and for once I didn’t seem to mind. No one in the office would believe me if I told them I was hungover. When did I become so lame? I also realized that I had not checked my phone all night. In fact, I had not thought about Charlie once.
The four of us walked home that night chatting back and forth the whole way. It felt like we had been friends for longer than just one night. Even Ella looked more at ease. After brushing my teeth, washing my face and drinking two large glasses of water with aspirin in hopes of avoiding any hangover, I fell asleep almost instantly. Right before I slipped into a deep sleep I had one lingering thought--what if I wouldn’t miss Charlie . . . at all?