"Natch?"
"Naturally. Obviously." I try not to roll my eyes.
"Right, naturally. So …"
I can't tell if she wants to be recognized or not. I've got to play this right. Time to double down.
"I saw her on Broadway first, and then know she went on to television. I don't really follow her career or anything. I don't watch much telly." It's the truth. "I spend half my year here in the city and the other half upstate. I work for a seasonal family business up there, and it doesn't leave much time for recreation."
"So are you in the off-season now?"
"It's ending. We're starting to head into the season. We're discussing casting, and auditions will start next week. There's always something to do on the business end down here in the city."
Immediately, she perks up. I see the veneer go down. "Auditions? Auditions for what?"
Time to cast the reel.
"I'm the managing director of a small, award-winning theatre. It's about ninety miles north of here, in a little town called Hicklam."
"Ninety miles? That's so far."
I'm surprised that's what grabs her focus. Even though she's warming up, and I have to admit I'm starting to enjoy myself, I'm really no further along on my mission.
"Only if you're walking it. It's about two hours on the train or by car. Not too bad at all. The worst part is getting in and out of the city. Once you hit Westchester County, you're in the clear."
"Man, in LA it can take you two hours to go five miles."
"That sounds terrible. Why would you want to live there?"
"Because the weather is beautiful every single day." She laughs. "I never have to worry about getting hypothermia from stepping in a puddle."
"This is true. But the fires and mudslides can prolly be a bit problematic, no?"
"That and the earthquakes, and when Trader Joe's is out of my favorite organic popcorn."
The waitress deposits another round at our table. I lift my coldie in salute, chuckling. "Here's to first world problems."
Tabitha tilts her champagne flute back at me. "To first world problems. May your feet be dry and warm, and your traffic be light."
"And may your popcorn be in stock."
And with that, this is no longer a chore.
Not in the least.
All too soon, we're done with dinner and our third round of drinks. I still haven't laid the pitch for The Edison. I need to stall and buy more time.
Plus, I want to get her to open up about her career so I can get her to sing for me. We've been duped by the whole "of course she can sing" line before.
I don't care if she was in a marginally popular group that had a hit record once. It was probably auto-tuned within an inch of its life. Until I hear her pipes, I will proceed with extreme caution.
Grayson will thank me later.
A large crowd at the table next to us lets out a rowdy cheer of "Opa!" It's then that the brilliant idea crashes on me like a tidal wave. "You up for something fun? One of the true gems of New York City?"
I stand up and offer her my hand. She looks from my hand to me and then back again. "I guess?" She takes my hand gingerly, as if she's afraid.
"I've got a fun place for us to go to. It's only about five blocks away. Can you manage it in those shoes?" I really don't want to pay for a cab. It's not like The Edison has the cash flow for unnecessary expenses.
