The Waiter Bradleigh Collins (autobiographies to read TXT) 📖

a hundred times over the last decade. It was never a healthy relationship. If you asked any of my friends or family members to describe Dalton in one word, they would all use the same one. Toxic.

We dropped off the waters and Gatorades in my hotel room. Then we headed east on 77th Street towards the park.

“I can’t believe you wore those shoes again.” Josh looked down at my feet. “That clip-clop sound makes me insane. Every girl in the city is wearing those freaking shoes.”

“Don’t talk about my Stevies that way. They’re the most comfortable shoes I own.” They were black Steve Madden platform slides with stretchy fabric across the top. The style went with everything and gave me the extra boost in height that my five-foot-five frame needed.

We continued walking towards the park while discussing the previous night’s antics. A drunken Josh made his karaoke debut at The Parlour singing Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up.” His performance was a hit, resulting in a rousing response from everyone in the bar and a couple of phone numbers for Josh. I laughed so hard that my abs were still hurting.

“Jimmy’s nice,” I said. Darryl’s brother Jimmy was a bouncer at The Parlour. “What’s his story?”

“His story is that Darryl drives him crazy. Why, are you interested in Jimmy?”

“I’m not interested in anybody.”

We walked past the Museum of Natural History and crossed over into the park. Throngs of New Yorkers, tourists, and Upper West Side nannies pushing double-wide strollers were all descending upon the great green Mecca of Manhattan.

As we approached the bottom of the hill, something - or rather someone - caught my eye. Over to the right in the grassy area was an incredibly attractive man doing some type of strange workout. Shirtless. He would drop and do several pushups. Then he would pop back up and do a series of high knee jumps. It was exhausting just watching him. And very erotic. He had dark brown hair with spiky bangs that fell over his forehead. He was wearing a pair of Adidas track pants that hung low on his hips and exposed what I like to call his “Ken doll handles.” But I couldn’t stop staring at his perfect shoulders.

“Hello, Mr. Deltoids,” I said under my breath as we passed by.

Josh turned and looked. “I thought you weren’t interested in anybody.”

“I’m interested in that body.” It was the first time I’d found someone attractive since Dalton and I broke up.

“Jesus, stop ogling the poor guy, Sam. You’re such a perv.”

I continued ogling as we turned left onto West Drive. Mr. Deltoids must have sensed me looking. He stopped his workout long enough to look over his sculpted shoulder and smile at me. I couldn’t help but smile back. I also couldn’t help bumping right into Josh because I wasn’t watching where I was going.

“Really Sam?”

“Oh god. He just smiled at me.”

“Go talk to him, doofus.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? What have you got to lose?”

“My dignity.”

“So you’d skip the chance to meet a guy that’s attracted to you because you might embarrass yourself?”

Josh had a point. What was keeping me from turning around and walking over there and introducing myself? Oh, I remember. It was that number Dalton did on my self-esteem. Yeah, no.

“I’m flying back to Atlanta tomorrow. Besides, if he looks that good, he must be a jerk.”

We continued walking along the path, coming into full view of a horde of runners, cyclists and roller-bladers. It was a perennial parade of men. And I was willing to bet that not all of them were emotional sadists like Dalton.

We made our way onto the Great Lawn. Josh pulled out a blanket from his backpack and laid it down.

“Are you planning on calling either of those girls from last night?”

“I can’t remember what they look like.”

“They were both cute. Especially the blonde. Katie, I think.”

Josh reached into his backpack and pulled out a napkin.

“Yeah, Katie.” He handed the napkin to me. There, written in black ink next to the Parlour’s logo, were the digits of a girl that was probably wondering if the cute karaoke guy with the amazing voice was going to call.

“Call her. See if she wants to meet us out tonight.”

“I’m not calling her today. It’s too soon. She’ll think I’m a psycho.”

“Oh god! What is it with you guys and your two-day rule?”

“Hey, it works.” He made a makeshift pillow with his backpack and laid down.

“Give me your Time Out New York. I wanna find a place to go for dinner tonight.”

He pulled the magazine out of his backpack and handed it to me. I began thumbing through page after page of restaurants, clubs, Broadway shows, art galleries, and more. I could live here my entire life and still not have enough time to experience everything this city had to offer.

Josh was already asleep. His snoring was muted slightly by the ambient sounds of the park. We had plans to meet his friends later tonight at The Bubble Lounge, so we’d decided to do an early dinner. I flipped to the restaurant guide and perused the recommendations for our area. I grabbed a pen from my backpack and circled a few places. Then I laid back on the blanket, looking up at the sky. Under no circumstances could I fall asleep. I was afraid I’d end up snoring, drooling, or contorting myself into a position that exposed my ass.

We stayed in the park for hours and then we were starving. I showed Josh my potential choices for dinner.

“Pomodoro is fantastic,” he said. “I’ve been there before.”

“Are we dressed appropriately?” I gestured to my mini dress and Maddens and his khaki shorts and CBGB shirt.

“I don’t think they even have a dress code at Pomodoro. Besides, they have outdoor seating, which is great for people watching.”

“Great for girl watching, you mean.”

“Girls are people.”

We packed everything up and headed out. The restaurants and bars lining Columbus Avenue were already buzzing with early diners and drinkers.

“I have