What does the future hold for our aspiring actor and Rowena? Time will surely tell…
Note: there is some harsh language in the opening sentence.
“What the fuck you moanin’ about, she didn’t break up with you man, lighten the fuck up“. Maybe you’re on a break, aren’t chicks always telling each other “there’s always more fish in the sea?”
Thursday was still “party night”; Benny, (who I’d met freshman year at NYU) and I’d been hanging at the Treehouse but got bored by the Gen Z kids and wound up down the street at our usual place, Johnny’s (my parents watched this old TV show, “Cheers“, an imaginary, but not, bar in Boston where “everybody knows your name”, well at Johnny’s, everyone knew our names.)
Benny and I squeezed our way up to the bar, did a shot, quickly downed a beer chaser; then got down to business, ordering a jack and coke for me and another (what else) beer for Benny.
It’d been 2 weeks since I’d seen Rowena, she hadn’t texted, hadn’t called; I wasn’t sure what was going on but I still had reservations at Smoke Jazz and Supper Club, a surprise for our 6 month anniversary (blew me away, but Rowena was heavily into jazz when she wasn’t head banging to old school metal, talk about eclectic taste in music).
While Benny went to take a leak, I wandered deep in smoke laden first date memories of taking Rowena to Birdland, The Blue Note and her favorite, the Jazz Gallery, when I heard Benny yell (sounded more like a howl) from a few bar stools over – “hey, man, c’mere, I want you to meet Amber, she just moved to the city, wants to get some acting gigs; I told her you could help her out.”