Not too long ago, Denise, Bar Tender at the Six Sentence Café & Bistro, had an encounter with a man in attendance at the Café as a result of the tall thin man’s decision to host the annual meeting of the Association of Costume Jewelry Designers and Manufacturers at the SSC&B. Time flies and so do stories….
Yellow Cab idling, the driver accepted the money offered as tip, his eyes dancing as he unfolded the bills and did the math; he raised his head to thank his fare but all he saw was the back of the woman’s black leather overcoat as it disappeared through the entrance to The Lofts, the newest building in the warehouse district to be converted to apartments and christened by Architectural Digest as the “it place to live”.
Meeting her hand halfway, Denise bent her head to brush aside windblown bangs from her face; evidence of a successful shopping spree lining each arm, she elbowed the elevator’s up button, entered the car and affecting her best English accent said to the liftman in her mind only, “to the penthouse Jeeves, thank you“.
The doors opened onto the 4th floor to what she considered the penthouse despite the short legal appearing on the newly inked Deed to Loft 7; the woman, known as the Bar Tender of the Six Sentence Café and Bistro, pushed open the heavy metal door with her left shoulder, the heel of her Gianvito Rossi pump closing the door behind her, its metallic leather glinting in the farewell rays of the day streaming through floor to ceiling windows.
Striding through the open space made even larger by a vault ceiling, Denise still felt giddy at the thought she owned this expansive space of brick walls, exposed ductwork and a view of the city to die for, all on a tip from a newly made acquaintance whose “affiliations” her gut told her were questionable but hey, there’s truth to the saying “sometimes it’s who you know”.
Packages now laying half opened on the leather couch, tissue paper strewn about like confetti, she reached for her phone as the memory of a single night sent a low electric current through her body; she auto dialed the number tagged with the symbol ?.
“Hey… yeah, it’s me, I told you I’d call… no, doesn’t matter how long it’s been… write down this address… yes….now get your ass over here…”