Sometime Soon - By Debra Doxer Page 0,68

window table, but it is a decent spot situated centrally in the room. Laura places herself on the side of the table facing the door. “So I can watch for Jonathan,” she explains. David motions for me to precede him to the inside chair on the other side of the table.

I sit myself down and look around as waiters and waitresses speed-walk through the dining room, deftly handling trays of drinks and food.

Laura half-stands and waves. I turn to watch Jonathan thread his way through the tables toward us.

“Did you find a good spot?” she asks.

“I had to put it in a lot.” He takes the seat beside her. “It’s crazy in here tonight. Now I remember why we never come into the city.”

She scowls at him. “It’s fun to do something different once in a while.” She turns a bright smile to David. “Andy comes here all the time.”

“I’ve been here twice,” I correct her.

“The food must be good,” David says.

“Actually, not really. But I was here when they first opened. Maybe it’s gotten better.”

“Ah.” David nods at me. “That’s generally a mistake. You need to give a new place time to work out the kinks.”

“There were certainly a lot of kinks.” I chew my lip and peer at the menu.

“What’s good here?” Laura peers at me expectantly.

“Obviously nothing she’s had,” Jonathan says.

“I see they have calamari.” David notices, apparently pleased.

Laura and I look at each other and cringe.

“What?” David glances up from his menu. “You don’t like calamari?”

“These two aren’t exactly adventurous eaters,” Jonathan explains, taking a sip of his ice water.

“Calamari is adventurous?”

“It is to them.”

“I’m getting better,” Laura argues. “I eat shrimp now.”

“See what I mean?” Jonathan smirks.

David turns to me expectantly, looking for confirmation.

“I’m better than Laura is,” I tell him. “She still makes her sandwiches with white Wonder Bread like she’s in third grade.”

“Hey,” she protests, looking offended.

I grin and shrug at her. It’s my blind date. Whether or not I like David, I still want him to like me. If I have to save myself by throwing her under the bus, so be it.

He closes his menu and says, “Guess the calamari is out.”

An attractive blonde waitress, her hair pulled back in a severe, high ponytail, finally arrives to take our drink orders. David suggests that we order a bottle of something, but he doesn’t know us very well. Laura hardly drinks at all. Any type of alcohol in any amount seems to give her a splitting headache. Jonathan says that he only wants a beer, and he proceeds to order one. After the wine we’ve already had at Laura’s, I don’t want a whole lot more myself. “I was going to have a chardonnay,” I say. “But I’ll probably only drink one glass.”

Lines form at the sides of David’s mouth as he places his order. He’s been foiled in his wine and in his appetizer preferences this evening.

Once our drinks arrive I settle in a little more, but because of the high noise level in the restaurant, conversation is an effort. “What?” is generously peppered throughout our exchanges. As David and Laura engage in a detailed discussion of real estate law, as detailed as the din will allow, I covertly watch him and the way his smallish white hands move when he speaks. He’s bright. There is no question about that. His personality is hard to get a read on though. He isn’t overly funny or uptight either. He seems somewhat sedate in his mannerisms, not too effusive or too loud. He’s middle of the road on all counts so far, looks and personality.

When the blonde ponytail bops back over to our table for our dinner orders, I make a last minute decision to try the filet mignon. Beside me, David looks pleased. “It seems like everyone I know is giving up red meat,” he explains. But then I ask for it to be butterflied and well-done and I can feel myself sink in his estimation. He orders swordfish and Jonathan orders salmon. Laura goes for the chicken despite my less than stellar review of it.

To my surprise, my filet mignon is pretty good. In fact, we all enjoy our meals. We make more small talk over dinner, discussing the housing market because Jonathan and Laura will soon be jumping into it. When the fact that I own my own place comes up in conversation, David appears surprised and asks me several questions about it. When Laura inquires as to the whereabouts