Tonight I wasn’t running late. Actually I was the first one there. Something that rarely happens. I’m usually the late one. I checked my watch. I was actually early. I must have made record time getting over here from Brentwood.
I sat down at the bar and ordered a drink.
“Can I have a Cosmo, please?”
“Sex and the City fan?” the bartender asked with a flirty smile. He was cute, most L.A. bartenders are. That’s because none of them are actually bartenders. They’re either aspiring actors, models, or singers. You do get your occasional screenwriters and sometimes, if you’re lucky, a PhD student. They’re much easier to talk to then the models.
“Hate to be the one to break it to you,” I said kindly. “But Sex and the City is over. The series ended.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t still be a fan, does it?” He winked at me and started preparing my drink.
“Don’t tell me you own the DVD set?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t,” he shot back.
Probably not a model…or an actor. Way too quick on his feet.
“I don’t actually,” I replied, somewhat proud of myself. I like surprising people. Being easy to peg is no fun at all.
“Interesting,” he said, placing the martini glass in front of me and pouring the pink liquid through the strainer and into the glass.
“Why’s that?”
“A beautiful girl in L.A. who’s not a Sex and the City fan.”
“And a good-looking bartender who’s not an actor.”
He appeared impressed. I knew I was right. I’m rarely wrong about people.
“How’d you know?” he asked, now somewhat intrigued by me. Maybe wondering if we had met before.
We hadn’t.
“I’m gonna go with Masters in Psychology en route to a PhD.”
Now he was certain we had met before. Either that or certain I was stalking him. The look on his face was priceless. If I had to guess further I would say he was on the UCLA program, judging by the distance between the restaurant and the UCLA campus. He would most likely choose a place to work close enough to campus that he could get here within 20 minutes of the end of his lecture or study session.
I may not have been easy to peg. But he certainly was. Maybe not to the untrained eye, but it’s my job to figure people out. In less than five minutes, I have to know what the entire book is about…just by looking at the cover. I may not be able to give you the back-story, or the exact development in character, but I can tell you the gist of it.
“Have we met?” he asked warily. The flirty smile had been replaced with an expression of fear. He was afraid he might now be dealing with a potential psychopath…possibly similar to the ones he’s been reading about in his textbooks.
I took a sip of my drink, grinned playfully and shook my head.
I glanced up towards the front of the bar just in time to see Sophie walk through the door. She caught my eye and waved and I grabbed my drink and stood up. “My friend is here. Can you charge this to our table?” I asked, not really waiting for an answer. Just ending the sentence with a rhetoric question mark, making my way over to the front entrance, and leaving poor Psychology student in complete wonderment.
I smiled as I walked away. Knowing exactly what look was presently on his face, and exactly what thoughts were running through his head. How’s that for mastering psychology? It’s hard not to have a little fun with people when you’re bored at a restaurant waiting for your friends to show up.
So, sue me.
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