That Guy

The post-show meeting had run well past the time his stomach clock normally kicked him into getting lunch, but when their meals arrived, Charlie’s appetite vanished.

“What’s up with you?” Liza asked. “Too many donuts on the set?”

Charlie poked at a California roll and glanced out the window of the small Japanese restaurant that faced Eighth Avenue. He didn’t know if it was a conspiracy or a coincidence, but the streets of Manhattan seemed inordinately packed with happy couples that afternoon. Clinging together as they moved briskly through the January chill, they seemed to underscore his current undercurrent of angst. “I don’t want to be that guy.”

She looked up from her miso soup. “What guy?”

“You know. That guy. The guy in the movie. He’s sitting in the coffee shop like a schmuck when the love of his life runs off to meet Mr. Wonderful at the top of the Empire State Building.”

“Well, for one, he’d have to be a schmuck to leave you behind in a coffee shop…”

“Thank you.”

“And two…aren’t we being a little dramatic?”

He sniffed. “Says the girl who cried at the end of Gone with the Wind.”

“I cried because I was bored to tears and wanted it to be over. Frankly, I didn’t give a damn.”

“Philistine.” He grinned and gave her leg a light tap under the table with his foot.

“So where’s this coming from?” Liza set down her spoon and nabbed a slice of avocado from his plate.

Charlie shrugged. “Just a feeling. Things have been a little…quiet lately on the romantic front. And odd.”

“Define odd.”

He sank back into his chair and absent-mindedly drummed his fingers against the tablecloth. “If someone gave you the keys to a candy store after you’d been held prisoner for, say, almost twenty years, what would you do?”

“Dig in and find a good dentist?”

“Funny.”

“What, you think The Congressman’s taking his, um, business elsewhere?”

“It’s crossed my mind. Who stays with their first—” He realized what he’d said a second before her eyes registered it. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“I get it.” The small, dark cloud dissipated from her face and she lowered her voice. “You were a nice first. Still, I think he’d be a schmuck. And if he hurts you, I might just have to kill him.”

“You’re sweet.” Then he pulled out his phone. “So, this is what confuses me. Zero contact for three days, and right before I left for work….”

He scrolled to the message and pushed the cell toward her.

Her brows flew up, brown eyes widening, and when she smiled, so did he. “Expect big news usual time?”

“It’s code,” Charlie said. “We do code. It’s kinda cute.”

“Adorable.” She slid the phone back. “I wish my guy sent me fortune cookies.”

Charlie stared at the screen, reconfiguring the pixels into a more positive line of thought. “Last time we talked, he said the divorce is almost final. You think…?”

“That he wants to take your relationship up a notch?” Liza’s eyes glowed. Actually, her whole face glowed. It wasn’t just a Hollywood myth. “Will I finally get to meet him?”

“I don’t want to jinx it,” he said.

She made a face at him. “How does meeting me jinx it?”

“Oh, god, I don’t know. I’m sorry. It’s just that…” He remembered how his insides had twisted up when he’d looked into Joshua’s eyes for the first time. Their gazes meeting over the man’s askew tie knot. Knowing, somehow, that something more profound than a flash of lust had passed between them. “He could be the lid to my pot. Like Mom said. And I don’t want to screw it up.”

As she pressed a hand over his, Liza’s phone warbled with Adam’s ring tone. “Speaking of pots, there’s my lid.”

Charlie gestured that she should take it.

“Hi, hon.” He heard his brother’s voice. “Uh-huh. Sure. No, I don’t mind. I won’t be too late. Oh, and please don’t forget to clean the litter box. No, really. The doctor said I shouldn’t touch it.” She laughed. “No, he’s not just making that up to get you to do more stuff around the house.”

Whether a result of the pregnancy or the couples counseling, it warmed Charlie to hear his brother and Liza getting along a little better. He excused himself to the men’s room to give them some privacy. After he’d lingered long enough over washing his hands, he paused at the mirror, molding a few strands of dark blond hair back into his careful coif. Glancing around quickly to make sure no one was watching, he practiced a few surprised faces. Stop it, he thought. It’s too soon. Even if the divorce is final, cut the guy some slack. Expect big news usual time. Maybe that is his big news. The papers have been signed, so one day we might…

Lifting his blue-green eyes to his reflection once more, he gaped at how tired he appeared. Maybe if he could sneak away from the studio early, he’d have time for a nap before Mr. Big News landed. Right. Like he could sleep.