Page 52 of Babydaddy To Go
If only letting go were as easy as three scotches and mindless conversation. David tries once again to engage me in something other than Alyssa, but my brain won’t cooperate.
He exhales loud enough that the couple nearest us looks our way and shuffles towards the other side of the mostly empty bar.
“Look,” he says, pointing to a TV above our heads. “Baseball playoffs. The Mets are playing and everything.”
His distraction works this time. I’m one of the few New York outcasts that cheers for the Mets instead of the Yankees. At least I don’t root for the losers up in New England.
Alyssa is probably a Red Sox fan. All the better I cut ties with her, then.
I finish my drink while David and I engross ourselves in the game. It’s only the first inning but the Mets are already down two runs. I don’t have high hopes that they’ll make it to the Series. It’s a miracle they made it into playoffs. Maybe next year.
“You ready for another?” I ask David.
He stares at his empty glass. “I probably shouldn’t. Sandra will kill me if I come home tanked.”
Sandra is David’s live-in girlfriend. They’ve been together for pretty much their entire lives (well, five years, which feels like forever), but David is too afraid to pop the question. Sandra drops hints throughout their modest home, like bridal magazines, photos of rings, and even phone numbers for wedding planners. As far as I know, David hasn’t bitten the bait yet, but I doubt it’ll be much longer.
“Well, I don’t have anyone busting my balls about drinking, so I’m going to have another. Shall I get you a water, sissy?”
David laughs. “Fine, one more, and then I’m cutting myself off.”
The bartender fills our tumblers with ice and scotch. As I return to our table, I scan the bar again just in case a new prospect has shown up.
Unfortunately, my eyes lock with the last person I wanted to see out tonight. No, I don’t mean Alyssa. I would much rather see her than the tall, blonde devil grinning at me from her spot near the DJ booth.
Samantha lifts her glass to acknowledge she sees me. I’m tempted to pretend I have no idea who she is, but we’d both know I was lying. I return her gesture and hope that will be the end of it.
Hope is for fools, of course.
From the corner of my eye, I track Samantha’s movements from a table of her friends to an open seat next to me.
“Nathaniel!” she squeals. She places a sharp-nailed hand on my arm. “Fancy meeting you here!”
I extract my arm from her grip.
“Hi, Samantha.”
David’s eyes widen. I’ve told him stories of the clingy student in my culinary class and now he’s seeing first-hand just how obnoxious she can be.
“Let’s take a photo!” she cries. “To commemorate the coincidence.”
Samantha holds out her phone for a selfie but I duck out of view.
“That’s really not appropriate, Samantha. I’m your teacher.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Please, you’re so old school. No one cares if students and teachers hang out anymore. You went to the restaurant opening with Alyssa.” I don’t miss the resentment in Samantha’s voice when she mentions my ex’s name. It sounds a lot like how I’ve been saying Alyssa since Saturday morning. Samantha manages to snap a photo before I can get away. “As long as it’s legal,” she adds with a wink.
My mind searches for a polite way to get rid of Samantha. Her father is an important man and I don’t want him to spread lies about me if I’m rude to his daughter. I have to figure out a way to get rid of her and make it seem like it’s her idea.
David catches my eye. One good thing about our closeness is that we can practically read each other’s minds. He knows to intervene when people are getting obnoxious, which is pretty much all the time with Samantha.
“I’m David,” he introduces. “Nathaniel’s financial manager. And you are?”
Samantha’s face brightens. She seems to be the kind of person who is more interested in titles than anything of substance.
“Samantha,” she says. She offers a limp hand for David to shake. “I’m a student of Nathaniel’s. He’s a great teacher.”