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Chapter 7
BRIDGET
Past
“Is that Bridget?”
Hearing the familiar voice, I turn around and look past the pedestrians walking along Telegraph Avenue to see Felipe, the bartender at Darren’s club, waving at me. Accustomed to seeing him in a white button-up shirt and stylish vest, I almost don’t recognize him in his knit beanie and puffed jacket.
“Hey, you,” he says.
I walk over. “Hey, yourself.”
He glances at the dark, handsome man beside him, whom I recognize as a guest from the club and whom I helped set Felipe up with. “You remember Bryan?”
“Yeah,” I answer and shake the man’s hand.
“Bryan, this is Bridget. Without her, I would have thought you were straight.”
Bryan grimaces. “Really?”
“It looked like you were on a date with a woman.”
“Oh, you mean Maureen, one of my clients.”
Felipe turns to me. “Bryan’s a stockbroker.”
“I remember,” I reply. “Watcha guys doing in Berkeley?”
“Visiting my favorite used records store. There are, like, no used music stores anymore. But this one in Berkeley even carries LPs. Bryan loves Sinatra, and I think it would be cool to listen to Frank the old fashioned way. After that, we were going to grab an early dinner. You got any recommendations?”
“For Berkeley? Where do I start? Or if you want, you can come over to my place. I have a big batch of breaded chicken I was going to fry up.”
Bryan’s eyes light up. “I love fried chicken. Haven’t had any since I visited extended family in Georgia a few years back.”
“I don’t make them as good as my Aunt Coretta did, but my roommates gobble them up.”
I go with Felipe and Bryan into the used records store, and we go through records of old favorites like Nat King Cole, Ella Fitzgerald, Bing Crosby and Judy Garland. It’s fun hanging out with them, but I also have an ulterior motive.
Back at my apartment, my roommates and Kat have been eager for me to start the chicken.
“The beer’s cold and waiting,” Simone tells me after I introduce everyone to each other.
The five of us fall into easy conversation while I heat up the oil. Felipe and Bryan admire the mural Simone painted on the living room wall. There’s the obligatory conversation about what Simone, Kat and I are studying at Berkeley. Kat asks about Bryan’s career because she’s looking to go to business school and possibly go into investment banking as well. Nothing gets too serious, however, with the beer flowing freely and everyone in a lighthearted mood.
At one point, Simone leans over the table, asking Felipe, “So your boss have any other cousins who can give us an all-expenses-paid trip to Thailand?”
“My boss has never taken me on an all-expenses-paid trip to Thailand,” Felipe replies.
Simone looks over at me as I pull a drumstick out of the pot with a pair of tongs. “Told you you were special.”
I shake my head. “I doubt I’m the only woman he’s taken on vacation.”
Simone turns back to Felipe, who answer, “Bridget’s right, I’m afraid. But out of all the women I’ve seen Darren with, Bridget’s the one I’m rooting for. I’m even getting used to that ugly taupe sweater of hers.”
“I know the one you’re talking about. It is damn ugly, isn’t it?” Simone asks in jest.
“Thanks,” I respond to her. “No fried chicken for you.”
