Kathleen O'Reilly - New York Nights - Shaken and Stirred

Charlie shrugged what had once been extrawide shoulders. “When you’re my age, you don’t need a tie for much.”

Lloyd sniffed. “A man should always have appropriate attire.”

Tessa slapped her rag in his general direction. “Charlie’s a free spirit.”

EC nudged Charlie in the ribs. “That’s her, isn’t it?”

Sure enough, walking through the door were two young ladies—way too young for Charlie. But his eyes lit up. “That’s her, but where’s her grandmother?”

For a good ten minutes the men sat debating the wisdom of whether Charlie should talk to the granddaughter or not, and finally Tessa got miffed at all of them. No balls. Not a one.

Taking matters in hand, she approached the table where the two girls were sitting. “Can I get you something?” she asked, placing two bar napkins in front of them.

“Margarita on the rocks, no salt,” said the first one.

“Appletini,” said the second, and Tessa recognized her as the girl who wore the yellow sundress, although today she was in navy shorts and a classy tank top. “You’ve been in here before, right?”

“Yeah, I work down the street.”

“Weren’t you here with an older woman?” Tessa looked at the other girl. “No offense, of course, but I knew you were way too young.”

“That’s my great-aunt. She’s visiting from Kansas and she swore that she remembered being in this place a long time ago, but they called it something else. She made us stop that day.”

Tessa nodded, adopting her friendly tour-guide face. “That’s possible. Prime was O’Sullivan’s a lot of years ago. In fact, it was a speakeasy back during Prohibition. Your aunt has got a great memory. What’s her name?”

“Irene Langford. I’m Kristine Langford.”

Tessa leaned in low. “Listen, you see the group of old guys at the bar?” Kristine nodded. “One of them swears he knows your great-aunt. Maybe you could bring her in here sometime this week?”

“Really?” Kristine looked at the matched set of gray heads that were all turned in her direction. “That’s so sweet. But she’s not here anymore. She went back home.”

Tessa tried to look perky for Charlie, but inside she felt something tear. When you got to be Charlie’s age, opportunities were few and far between. “You expect her to visit again?”

“Doubt it. She’s terrified of flying. The doctor had to slip her a Valium to get her on the plane in the first place. But can I tell her his name?”

Tessa thought for a minute, looked at Charlie’s eager eyes, and nodded. “Charlie. Charlie Atwood.”

“Charlie?”

“Uh-huh, the one in the tie—but don’t hold it against him. I’ll buy him another one,” promised Tessa. “Let me get your drinks.”

Tessa went back behind the bar and was immediately bombarded with eighty million questions.

“What’s the woman’s name?”

“Irene Langford.”

“Langford? That doesn’t sound right.”

“Charlie, it’s been a long time. I bet she’s not who you think she is.”

He frowned. “That’s the problem. I can’t remember who I think she is. I only remember the face. And there was a song.”

“She’s in Kansas now.”

Charlie still didn’t get it. “She’ll be coming back?”

Tessa shook her head, hating to let the old guy down. He deserved better. “I don’t think so.”

Charlie stared into his mug until Lloyd tapped his glass to Charlie’s. “To lost loves, lost nights and lost chances. But may you never lose your beer.”

ON SUNDAY NIGHT GABE took out Marisa, just as Tessa wanted. He took her to 11 Madison for dinner and then some play that he didn’t really understand, but she’d been all fired up to go, and, fine, Gabe wasn’t up to disagreeing.

Marisa was nice enough, pretty enough, but man, the woman knew exactly what she wanted. When it came time to kiss her good-night or—God help him—something more serious, Gabe found himself dreading the whole ordeal.

This was one of the main reasons that he didn’t date. Trying to understand what women expected, what they didn’t expect, what they were saying, what they weren’t saying. Did they expect to have sex on the first date? Would they think he was a creep if he wanted to have sex with them after one date? These were questions that could boggle and confuse a man’s mind.

Still, he was going to do this. He was going to do this. Marisa looked up at him, smiled coyly, and he laid into her mouth.

Immediately she pulled back. “Okay, that was not good.”

Under other circumstances, Gabe would have been insulted, but he liked Marisa’s uncomfortable face because it proved that he’d been right and Tessa was wrong. And next time he saw her he was going to tell her that she shouldn’t be fixing him up with other women—even if they were nice.

“Sorry,” he said, noticing her confused expression. “My mind’s elsewhere.”

“Mine, too,” she admitted. “You want to come up?” she asked.

“I should go home,” he said, trying to figure out if “come up” was code for sex or not. And after that kiss there was no freaking way he was going near her for sex.

“I don’t mean to come up,” she said, adding suggestive emphasis. “I just thought you might want to talk for a few minutes.”

Gabe checked his watch. It was too early to show up at the apartment with his pride still intact. A man didn’t take getting dumped lightly, and who knew what Tessa’s reasons were, but the fact was Tessa had dumped him.

Gabe nodded because a man needed his pride. “Sure.”

They killed two hours discussing movies and arguing about whether chick flicks were a good thing or a bad thing. Marisa liked the Hamptons. Gabe liked the Jersey shore. Both agreed that subway fares were crazy expensive and the smoking ban in bars turned out to be all right after all.

They passed the time without incident when Gabe’s cell rang, and he looked down to see his brother’s cell number. He clicked the button. “Daniel?”

“Hello? Who’s this?” asked a voice that wasn’t Daniel’s.

“This is Gabe. Who is this?” Gabe asked.

“This is Vincent, the bartender at Champs. Listen, I think your brother needs some help getting home. I tried to call a cab for him, but he wouldn’t listen, and I’m not sure he knows where he’s going.”

“Daniel?” asked Gabe and then checked his watch. May twenty-fifth.

Damn .

While he’d been busy walking that tightwire that was Tessa, he’d forgotten about Daniel and Michelle’s anniversary.

“Where’s he at?” Gabe asked.

“We’re in Westchester.”

“Westchester? How’d he get up there?”

“Beats me. But he’s been knocking back double scotches for the last three hours.”

“He’s alone?”

“Deep in his cups.”

“I’m on my way.”

Gabe hung up and looked at Marisa. “Sorry. I’ve got a brother to rescue.”

“He’s in Westchester?”

“Yeah. He’s pretty smashed.”

“You need a ride?” she asked, and he gave her high marks for seeing the problem right off.

“You have a car?”

“Of course,” Marisa answered as if it was completely normal to keep a car in the city.

True, he didn’t want to have sex with her, but she was thoughtful and capable. Tessa had good taste in friends. “Are you sure you don’t mind? This won’t be pretty.”

“That’s all right, I don’t mind.”

And they ended up on the FDR, cruising out onto the Deegan, until she wheeled onto the exit for Scarsdale.

Marisa had a sweet little convertible and a heavy accelerator foot, but Gabe was happy for the rush. Daniel didn’t do this often, but when he did, Gabe was always there to bail him out.