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She got up from her seat and approached her friend, grabbing hold of both his arms and making him stand still to look at her.

“I know this freaks you out,” she told him. “But be cool, alright? I won’t screw anything up, I promise! I rather like pretending to be Jillian Ashley, bestselling author. Besides, it’s only coffee. Who knows? Her and I might meet in person and not be able to stand each other’s company.”

But Sally hoped not.

“Anyway, you promised me dinner,” she reminded Max.

They ordered Chinese food and when it arrived, they ate in the dining room. Max put on some jazz music. Sally loved jazz, it was one of the many things she and Max had in common which cemented their friendship.

“So, how did you come up with Jillian Ashley as a pen name?” Sally asked.

“You met my parents, right? Two incredibly loud old people who don’t want to acknowledge that they’re both deaf and who save used wrapping paper?”

Sally laughed and nodded.

“What’s my mother’s name?”

“Jill,” Sally answered.

“Right. Short for Jillian.”

“Ah!” Sally speared a shrimp from off Max’s plate.

“And you met my sister, right? Incredibly large woman with three annoying kids, one of whom had to repeat kindergarten? What’s her name?”

Ash.

“Short for Ashley,” Sally said before Max could. “Got it.”

“So, I have a question for you, young lady,” Max said.

Sally looked at him expectantly.

“How come you don’t do much dating, Sally? I’m beginning to worry about you.”

Sally laughed again.

“Worry?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re talented, smart, funny, somewhat good-looking…”

“Somewhat?” Sally asked with a smirk, knowing he was just kidding.

She shrugged.

“I don’t know what to tell you about that,” she said. She honestly didn’t. On paper, Sally knew she was a catch: pretty, intelligent, good job and a fun personality. But her luck with women lately was non-existent. It didn’t help that the pandemic kept most crowded venues like lesbian bars closed for over a year. In fact, her and Lisa’s favorite lesbian spot in Vista had shut down for good thanks to Covid, never to reopen.

“The few dates I’ve been on lately just haven’t been with anyone I felt really connected to, you know? Despite my mother’s best efforts at fixing me up with every unattached lesbian she deems worthy,” she added. “I mean, look…I know I can get laid anytime I want, okay? And, fine, I’m not a prude and will definitely hook up with a woman for that. But I want more already. Maybe it’s because I’m almost thirty. Maybe it’s because I’m just tired of going from girlfriend to girlfriend. I don’t know.”

She wondered what Amy would turn out to be. It was obvious that Friday evening was going to be a date. But what kind? A hook-up? A night of hopefully great sex followed by vague promises to keep in touch and see each other again soon? Or will it be a proper date—an evening to lay down the foundations for something bigger?

“It’s sweet that you care so much, though,” she said to Max.

He shrugged.

“I do care. I mean, you talk too much but I like you.”

“Whatever,” Sally said. “Anyway, maybe I’ll really hit off with Amy.”