Milkrun

“Jackie who?” Okay this woman obviously wants a piece of my Jonathan. Maybe she’s already had a piece of him. Maybe that’s where he was last night.

“Hello?” she asks somewhat impatiently.

“Norris. He knows who I am. He called me. I’m calling him back.”

“One second please.”

I’m on hold. What type of date will he propose? You can tell a lot about a guy from the type of date he suggests. Dinner means he’s not afraid to jump right into it.

“Jackie?” he says in his foxy, sexy voice.

Coffee means he’s a coward. “Jonathan! Hi.”

“Great to hear from you.”

On the other hand, it could mean he’s sensitive. “Great to hear from you.”

He laughs. “I told you I’d call.”

“I know.” Drinks would be best. So trendy.

“How was the rest of your weekend?” he asks.

“Good, thanks. Yours?”

“Great.”

Great? Why great? What made it great exactly?

“What are you doing Thursday night?”

“Nothing, why?” Why? I can’t believe I asked him why. Sometimes the stupidity that comes out of my mouth even amazes me.

“I was hoping you’d come see The Apartment with me.”

This I am not expecting. Tickets to The Apartment are a gazillion dollars apiece, never mind completely sold out.

“I’d love to.”

“Perfect. The show starts at eight. I’ll pick you up around six-thirty and we’ll grab a bite somewhere, okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I’ll call you on Wednesday to finalize everything.”

“Okay.”

“Great. Have a good week.”

“You, too.”

I stare at the dead receiver in my hand and place it down gently in its cradle. I remove my shoes and leave them near the door so that Sam won’t find out that I wore them into the house.

Yay!

I’m pretty sure taking me to a play symbolizes more commitment than drinks do.

Omigod. I’m practically engaged.

“I think it’s a little sketchy,” Wendy says. “He bought the tickets before he asked you?”