Short Order
It was 6:58 p.m. Claire sat in front of her computer, her leg shaking as she chewed on her index finger. Two minutes to go before she found out where she’d meet her soul mate. Maybe.
She had signed up herself and her two best friends, Amy and Katy, to go on a blind group date in Manhattan. It was an up-and-coming fad in cities like L.A, Chicago and San Fran.
Why not New York City? Why not give it a try?
Truth be told, for a city known for its abundance of good-looking, intelligent, cool men, Claire, Amy and Katy had done a pretty shitty job procuring ‘Sex and The City’ with said men. Perhaps letting the Internet choose the strangers they’d meet might change the cards they so regularly dealt themselves.
“Tonight’s the night. It’s gonna be alright.” belted out of her iHome speaker. Yeah right. This is NYC. Take your chances. Smiling, she thought how remote that possibility was. Here she was, about to find out where her and her posse would be meeting their dates and whether she’d meet The Man – tall, handsome, smart, funny, maybe a little rich and please, dear Jesus, one that uses less hair gel that she does.
7:01. A message popped up in her Gmail inbox and said the rendezvous will be at 8 p.m. The bar was in Tribeca. Good and bad. They could be rich. Or posers. Worse still, they could be both.
Most of the men Claire, Amy and Katy met were the wannabe Wallstreeters of New York City. The kind of men who don’t give two shits about anyone’s interests but their own, who come off as if they have a corner office on the 68th floor of a high rise, but who really have a corner cubicle in the mail room. Very rarely do these men ask the ladies they bring home about their lives and their careers. All Claire and her friends ever wanted was to meet a man who cared about their hopes and dreams.
Friday flew by for all the girls. Claire, an assistant at a Public Relations firm in midtown kept herself busy with filing and phone calls. Amy, a merchandising assistant spent the day buried in a gigantic closet of men’s blazers and slacks. And then . Ah Katy, the sexiest of the lot and as is the way, didn’t even know it. A dog walker by day and cafe server by night, she was perfectly content with doing both for the duration of her life.
The three met at Claire’s loft after work to get ready. The drill was always the same – Claire and Amy took about two hours to get themselves presentable. Katy never took more than 30 minutes.
“Guys, do you think food will be included on this date?” Katy asked as she searched the refrigerator for something to munch on.
“How in the hell could you be thinking about food at a time like this, Katy?” Claire squeaked as she traced her eyes with black eyeliner in the bathroom. “We are about to meet our soon-to-be husbands and all you can think about is if they’ll buy us food?”
“Yup,” Katy replied without any hesitation.
Amy appeared from the bedroom in a short red dress and black Manolo Blanick stilettos, her jet black hair lay straight as a board and hung a few inches below her DD boobs.
“I can’t decided if I want to wear panties or not,” she whined.
Claire and Katy stood unfazed by Amy’s question. Within seconds, the three busted out in laughter.
This night was gonna be good.
After a 45-minute subway ride, the girls made it to TriBeCa. The bar was classy with its rustic brick walls and big black marble-esque bar. They looked around and didn’t see a group of three guys nervously and impatiently waiting for them. It was 8:15 p.m.
“If these guys stand us up, I’m fucking the first guy I meet at this bar,” Amy said.
No, no, no. This is not happening, Claire thought to herself. “Rod said this was going to be THE night, therefore they will be here. I know it,” she told her friends.
“OK, weirdo,” Katy said. “Let’s get some tequila shots.”
Just as the girls headed toward to the bartender, they glanced out the windows in the front of the bar and saw a neon orange Lamborghini pull up to the curb.
“We’ve got to go and see who that it is,” Amy said grabbing Katy and Claire and B-lining for the door.
The girls stood on the sidewalk and watched the driver, passenger and driver’s doors of the neon orange Lamborghini raise toward the heavens. In the shadow of the black leather interior, the driver’s aquamarine eyes caught Claire’s. He had the face of a scruffy HarryStyles, a smile that made her knees weak and a head of hair that had no traces of gel.
“I’m mildly positive the driver of this fine automobile is not metrosexual,” Claire whispered to the girls as their eyes stayed locked on the men in the Lambo. “If these are our dates, dibs on the driver.”
The driver put both feet on the pavement. The passenger and back doors slammed as well, signaling that the two others had emerged from the car.
They rounded the hood of the car just as the driver stood up.
Claire finally saw him, in all of his 5-foot-4-inch glory. His two buddies stood next to him, not much taller.
“This is a joke right,” Amy said both to herself and to Katy and Claire.
The three men, dressed in blazers and khakis and looking not much older than 23 , walked toward them.
“Is one of you beautiful ladies Claire?” the driver asked, his eyes meeting Claire’s bust not because he was a pervert but because they were directly in his line of sight.
Claire bent his knees a bit to make the situation less awkward.
“Yep, that’s me. Are you guy’s here for the group date?”
“Yeah, that’s us.” the three guys said succinctly. “Ready to go get down?”
By this point, Katy was trying so hard to hold her laughter in that her eyes began to water. She wasn’t trying to be mean. But she knew her friends’ expectations and couldn’t help but see the hilarity in the situation.
“Can you guys give us a second,” Amy said. “We’ll meet you inside.”
The guys walked inside. Katy exploded with laughter while Amy and Claire stood perplexed.
“On the bright side, they seriously just rolled up in a Lamborghini and one slightly resembles Harry Styles,” Claire said. “Height aside, we can make this work. We’ll just take off our heels and go barefoot for the night.
“These Manolos are staying on my feet, missy,” Amy replied. “Whatever, maybe after a few whiskey Cokes, they’ll look taller.”
And with that, the girls walked back inside. The three guys stood posted up at the bar. Six shots, six limes and a salt shaker sat in front of them on the counter.
“Cheers to the first round of many,” said the driver.
They all clinked their glasses and threw back the tequila.
Katy and the driver locked eyes as they both slammed their glasses down on the bar.
“So tell me about yourself,” he asked her in an endearing tone she wasn’t too familiar with.
She gave the driver a short answer, waiting for him to revert the conversation back to himself.
“That sounds pretty neat,” he replied. “So if you could do anything in the world, would that really be it?”
It took Claire a second to answer. His genuine interest in her life was befuddling.
Amy and Katy walked over and excused Claire as they pulled her aside.
“OK, what’s the verdict? Are we staying with the shorties or are we ditching?” Amy asked bluntly.
“Let’s stay,” Claire replied as she glanced over at the driver.
Suddenly, his height seemed irrelevant.
Maybe the tequila was talking. Maybe she really wanted to stay. Either way, the there was hope!
