"It's Claire,” she said.
"Claire…" He pressed for a last name.
She smiled."Just Claire."
He nodded and turned his attention back to the piano.Claire took the opportunity to study him more closely.His brown hair was combed to one side, long on the top but shorter on the sides.His beard and mustache were neatly trimmed, with just a hint of gray.His clothes were casual but expensive, as evidenced by small but well-known designer logos.He wore no jewelry, aside from a watch on his right wrist.He’s a lefty, like me.On his feet, a pair of canvas and leather sneakers she knew cost at least six bills.She tried to judge his height and guessed he was somewhere in the six-foot range.
“I didn’t get your name,” she spoke up.
He looked back at her.“Oh, sorry.I’m Jay—Plain Ol’ Jay.”
Her estimate was confirmed when he stood and leaned across his table, hand extended.Claire shook his hand and he resumed his seat.She couldn’t lie—the skin-to-skin contact felt electric.Her heart raced as it had earlier that day, when she found herself inches from a jellyfish in waist-deep waves.Was this another internal alarm of caution?If so, she didn’t heed it, and spent the next half hour talking, laughing, and playing ‘Name That Tune’ with this Jay guy and the piano player.The server reappeared, but Claire dared not risk another round, now approaching full-on buzz mode.
“How do you know all these old songs?You’re way too young to know so many,” the pianist asked.
Claire grinned."Well, I don't know about that.I guess I have my father to thank.Or blame, depending on how you look at it.He made sure I had a well-rounded education.Music, classic movies, sports.”
“What are you?Golfer?Tennis player?”the piano man asked.
“Not much of a player.More of a follower.We’re rabid college basketball fans.”
“Don’t remind me.”Jay shook his head.“I lost a small fortune during March Madness.”
“You’re not the only one.”Claire laughed.“My bracket was busted after the first round.”
Claire espoused her takes on the former tournament, her face lit up with passion for her love of the sport.Two minutes later, she stopped cold with the realization she’d been talking ninety-to-nothing and a touch too loud.She lowered her tone and spoke more slowly.
She palmed her face.“I’m so sorry.I get a little carried away sometimes.Like I said, we’re rabid fans and enjoy most sports.”
Jay stared at her with a look that said something.Dumbfounded, maybe?Halfway between shocked and delighted?She wasn’t sure but decided a break was needed.
“Speaking of my father, I, uh, promised to give him a call.Would you excuse me for a few minutes?”She pulled her cell phone from her purse and slipped off the barstool.
"Of course."Jay tried to stand, losing his balance slightly.He steadied himself against the edge of the table.
"What on earth happened to you?"she asked, noticing for the first time the presence of his knee brace.
Jay laughed."A small accident.Let's call it a misjudgment.I went toe-to-toe with a Gucci garment bag and lost."
"Death by luggage?"she questioned.
"Almost.I was traveling on business and trying to make a connecting flight.I turned a corner at full speed and found myself face-to-face with a menacing-looking woman and her fleet of bags.I couldn't stop and slowing down wasn't even an option.So, I channeled my inner track star and tried my hand at hurdles… and my knee paid the price."
Claire laughed again."What on earth possessed you to do such a thing?"
"The one thing that possesses all men to engage in ridiculous activities born from conceit and aimed at self-promotion."
"And what exactly might that be?"she asked.
"Pride," he answered with a grin.
"Oh, I'm so sorry.When did this happen?"
"About two weeks ago."
"Yet here you are, brace and all."
"Brace and all," he repeated.
