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“Please, take a seat,” I find myself replying, surprised at myself for consenting. Really? Why did I say yes? I take just one more quick look and he appears to be very impressive, wearing a light-colored, designer jacket over a gray t-shirt, jeans and sunglasses. But despite his meticulous look and fashionable clothing, brand names from head to toe, there’s something else about him, something utterly authentic.
“Hello,” he flashes a pearly white set of teeth and a perfect smile.
I’m smitten. I guess I missed the smiles. I think to myself, the only time Matthew would bare his teeth to me was when he growled at me.
“I’m Avi,” he says and reaches out to shake my hand. He sits down in the chair and leans back, comfortably. “I’m here with a friend of mine,” and lifts his head in the direction of his friend.
I reluctantly glance to where he’s indicating and then I see him: Michael! Michael Jones! The perfect singer and actor! Every woman’s wet dream.
“Is that... Michael?” I ask with embarrassment mixed with excitement.
“Yes,” he replies. “So, you know him. You saved me some unnecessary explanations. May I invite him over here to join us?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” I reply, “but...”
“But what?” he asks.
“What is he doing here? I can’t believe it! It’s so surreal!” I look into his eyes, half smirking. Today, of all days, I was ‘lucky’ enough to meet Michael Jones?
He gives me a dashing smile.
“You’re awfully cute,” he replies and lightly bites on his lower lip, “but please don’t say his name so loudly. We’re trying to be incognito for a bit, see?”
“Oh! I’m terribly sorry. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”
“We’ve been watching you for the past half hour, you know,” he goes on and I melt completely. Occasionally I glance at my own private Adonis.
“Really? Why?” I reply, struggling to understand what he’s getting at.
He smiles and his eyes shine brightly.
“The way you took care of that lost little boy really moved us. That, on top of the fact that I... he... seem to like you...” He slightly chews on his bottom lip again, making me tremble. “Listen,” he adds, “Michael isn’t usually the type to hit on women, he doesn’t really need to. In short, he asked me to test the waters for him to avoid a big commotion of photographers, rumors and other stuff. Well, you know... so, what do you say? Can I call him over to the table? Or perhaps it’s better if we took a walk?”
“That sounds perfect!” I reply, as excitement spreads throughout my body. It’s Michael Jones, after all. An international movie star, Oscar winning, perfect model in all the current campaigns and, lately, has also been writing and performing perfect, moving songs.
“But the truth is, I’m not really at my best,” I add bitterly.
‘Damn you, even when you have the chance to be happy for a bit, your emotions take over,’ I berate myself and, as I’m overcome by my sadness, I feel a fat tear running down my cheek. Now I am totally exposed in front of these two men, the depiction of my erotic fantasies.
Oh! How simple things can be when you have confidence and ‘joie de vivre’. I hate myself. How much more could I embarrass myself? This isn’t the time nor place! I try to collect myself, holding the tears back, but...
“What’s the matter, sweetie?” Avi asks as his right-hand thumb makes the uncontrollable tear running down my cheek disappear. “Please, don’t feel embarrassed on my account. I know you don’t know me, and I don’t know you. You probably want to be by yourself for a bit. You certainly don’t need to apologize to me.”
“Are you done with your drink?” he asks after a moment of silence.
“Yes,” I reply. “Sure.”
Avi signals to the waiter for the check and for Michael to come over. I take out a bill and place it on the table. I don’t wait around for the change, I just put the chair back. I grab my purse and put my cigarettes in. I thank him and walk a few steps outside the sitting area.
“Would you like to hang out for a bit? Are you sure you’re alright?” He gets up and lightly touches my shoulder.
Michael stands by his side looking puzzled, trying to figure out what happened to me. Shit! I hate it when people feel sorry for me.
“Yes!” I answer, “but also no. I’m fine, just a bit sensitive at the moment.” I lower my head in shame.
Avi grabs my chin and lifts it gently so that our eyes meet.
“You don’t owe anyone any explanations, and certainly not us. Everything is alright. What’s your name?” he tries to distract me.
