The Waiter Bradleigh Collins (autobiographies to read TXT) 📖

to The Gin Mill. As soon as we got there, Katie, Lucy and I made a beeline downstairs to the bathroom while the guys worked their way through the crowd to the bar.

“So,” Katie said as we waited on line in the tiny narrow hallway, “what are you guys doing tomorrow?”

“Going to the GreenFlea. His flight leaves at three, so tomorrow morning, we’re going to get H&H bagels and then going back to the spot where we had our first date.”

“That’s so poetic,” Lucy said. “Now I think I’m going to cry.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“You’re not going to the airport with him?” Katie asked.

“No, I couldn’t bear it. And he couldn’t bear it either.”

“Then you’ll be meeting us for brunch tomorrow,” Lucy said. “How about The Heights?”

“I don’t think I’ll be in the mood for brunch.”

“You’ll be in the mood for alcohol,” she replied.

“Well, that’s true.”

By the time we got back upstairs, The Waiter was at the front of the bar. And he wasn’t alone. A very tall, very blonde woman was chatting him up as he paid for our drinks. He looked completely uninterested. But I knew that wouldn’t always be the case.

“Sam, don’t even go there,” Lucy said.

“Too late. Now I have a very clear visual of what the man I’m madly in love with will be subject to for the next year or so.”

The Waiter turned around and made eye contact with me. I smiled. He smiled. A few minutes later he delivered my apple martini.

“Here you go, babe.”

I glanced over at the blonde who was still at the bar. She had already moved on to flirting with somebody else.

“You think I don’t think about it?” The Waiter asked.

“Think about what?”

“Other guys hitting on you. At bars. At work. On the subway. Everywhere.”

Once again, I realized that this was just as hard for him as it was me.

“Well, they’re not you,” I replied.

He kissed me on the forehead.

“And nobody will ever be you,” he said.

We stayed at The Gin Mill long enough to watch the Rangers lose to the Senators. Then we headed out to The Parlour.

“Darryl’s meeting us,” Josh said as we left the bar. “He’s bringing his new girlfriend.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Yes, you can. Trust me.”

“What’s she like?”

“Insane,” Katie said immediately. “She’s from Texas. And she’s like insane.”

“You’ll see,” Kyle said.

“You guys met her?”

“Once,” Lucy replied. “That was enough.”

“She’s like a younger, shorter version of Joey’s agent on Friends,” Josh added.

“Well this should be interesting.”

The six of us walked up Amsterdam. Lucy and Kyle held hands in front of us. Josh was giving Katie a piggyback ride because her high heels were hurting her feet. The Waiter and I were arm-in-arm. It was freakishly warm for February and I would have been content to just walk the city all night. I thought about all the times our little group had walked the streets of Manhattan over the last several months. Bar hopping. Going to dinner. The night we all went to De La Guarda. Soon, it would only be five of us. I’d be the odd man out.

“I can’t believe it’s this warm,” The Waiter said as we turned onto 86th Street. “It’s only going up to sixty this weekend in L.A.”

“Can we go back to Gladstone’s on Saturday?”

“Of course we can. Anything you want.”

“I love that place.”

“It can be ‘our’ place,” he said. “Our West Coast place.”

Hearing him say that made me feel like everything was going to be okay. We would be a successful bi-coastal couple. We’d be together every other weekend on our home turfs, and I’d get a nice dose of California sunshine every month. When we were together, we’d be together. When we weren’t, I would keep myself busy with work and not think about all the tall, tan California girls flirting with him. At least that’s what I was going to keep telling myself.

When we got to The Parlour, there was a sign outside advertising tonight’s drink specials and karaoke contest.

“Hey look! They’re doing cock blocks,” Josh said.

“You mean rock blocks?” I asked.

“What did I say?”

“Cock blocks, Josh,” Katie answered. “You said cock blocks.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s plenty of that happening, too.”

The Parlour had been doing Rock Block Karaoke since the night before Thanksgiving. The same night Daryl had famously impersonated Axl Rose for several songs before infamously punching Dalton in the face. When we walked in, they had just started a Bon Jovi block and someone was singing “Living on a Prayer.” Technically, the entire bar was singing “Living on a Prayer.” We said hello to Jimmy who was working the door and then made our way inside.

From across the bar, I saw Darryl waving his hands above his head, frantically motioning us over. I looked for his new girlfriend but didn’t see her. That is until we got closer. She was that short. Barely pushing five feet, I’d say. What she lacked in height, she made up for in volume. Both in her hair, and in her voice.

“Yay!” she screamed as we approached. “Darryl told me I was gonna get to meet y’all tonight!”

“Hi!” I extended my hand to greet her. “I’m Sammy.”

“I’m Molly!” She reached up to hug me and all I could think was please don’t let her cigarette catch my hair on fire.

“You’re so pretty!” she screamed in my ear. “Is that your real hair or a wig?”

“Um, it’s my real hair. Not my real hair color, but my real hair.”

“This is not my real hair color either!” That was pretty obvious. She had bleached blonde, heavily teased hair straight out of a Whitesnake video. I was guessing she’d stuck with this hairstyle since the eighties because she needed the extra height.

I introduced her to The Waiter.

“You’re so fucking tall! And I thought we grew ‘em big in Texas. Where you from?”

“Brooklyn!” He squeezed my arm and began pulling me backwards.

“We’re gonna grab some drinks,” he said to Darryl and Molly. “You guys good?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Darryl responded.

“What the hell was that?”