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She’s breathless and her cheeks are the sexiest pink. “Thank you so much. Thank you for hosting this. I think we really got the attention of our customers. I have Jewel handing out the flyers telling people who to write to, and a couple have even said they’ll help with legal stuff.”
Damn.
“Oh look,” she says, “there’s Bartlett Murray and his wife.”
The crowd parts for them, that’s how well-known they are. Or self-promoting. It’s hard to tell with them, the neighborhood ‘power couple.’ Bartlett smiles and shakes hands, giving a thumbs up to the people in the back he can’t reach.
Livvy starts to head in the opposite direction, but I catch her arm. “Where are you going? Don’t you want to say hi?”
She shakes her head hard. “His wife doesn’t like me and I don’t want to risk any support we might get from him. You go chat him up.”
“She doesn’t like you?” I repeat.
But Livvy brings a finger to her lips and gestures with her chin that Bartlett’s getting close.
Game on.
“Hey, Enzo,” he says, slapping me on the back a little harder than necessary, “you bring that grandmother of yours tonight?”
Nonna can be pretty memorable. If she decides you’re worth talking to.
“Not tonight, Bart. She’s out playing Bingo.”
He guffaws. “Better keep an eye on that old girl, she looks like a heartbreaker.”
“Oh, yeah. For sure,” I say.
His wife hugs his arm closer, like she doesn’t want him to get away, and looks around, if I’m not mistaken, with a certain amount of disdain.
That’s funny. She liked EastSide just fine last time she was here.
I wave over a server with a tray of champagne, and hand a glass to each of the Murrays.
“There sure are a lot of… animals in here,” she says, looking down like one might be nipping at her ankles. Or peeing on her shoe.
“Don’t worry Mrs. Murray, they’re all on leashes and are very well behaved. Livvy was careful with the invite list.” I lean closer to them and lower my voice. “We couldn’t have guests who don’t know how to behave, if you know what I mean.”
Mrs. Murray grimaces at the thought, and I try not to laugh.
“So, where is our lovely pet shop girl?” Bartlett asks, laughing again.
His wife throws him the stink eye, and I get a sense of what Livvy was referring to.
“She’s mingling, Bart. I’m sure she’ll be right over to say hi,” I lie. “But in the meantime, I wanted to talk to you about the developer looking at our property. I’m curious to know how you found out before we did? Even before our landlord did?”
“You know, Enzo, us folks on the city council are privy to all sorts of information. If someone wants to make a change in the neighborhood, we’re the first ones they come to!” he says with pride.
Not sure I buy that.
“Interesting. It seems like the businesses impacted would be the first to know.”
Is that even true? Who knows. I’m just fishing to see what else he knows, and with the ego he has, he’ll spill it all just so he can brag.
“Well, Enzo,” he says, releasing his wife and swinging an arm around my shoulder, “sometimes the little guy is the last to know.” He leans his head down the way you might talk to a kid who just struck out in Little League.
If that’s the way he wants to play it, I’m good with that.
I shake my head sadly. “You know, Bart, it’s hard. Really hard to run a restaurant, especially in a competitive place like New York. But we guys have done well. Really well. In fact, we were looking into expanding next door when we got the news about the developer.”
