Appeal Denied

2015-NYC-04: Stay of Execution

June 11, 2015

"If he's acting contrary to your interests," Paul, partner and my boss, told our client, "then we can take action."

Allowing my gaze to wander the restaurant, I attempted to listen in, but honestly, this was the most boring client dinner ever. A month ago I had moved from junior associate to associate, and that meant I was able to go to client dinners occasionally. But if this was any indication, I wasn't sure I wanted to attend any more. Thank goodness we were at least at a place with good food. Tao Downtown always delivers amazing Japanese food. While I can't stand sushi, they also have delicious Peking Duck (which I wasn't allowed to order since it's served for two, and neither Paul nor our client wanted it). So I had settled for dragon tail spare ribs which were so tender as to actually fall off the bone with a simple turn of the fork.

When I saw him heading to the hallway where the restrooms were located, my fork paused on the way to my mouth. He was like a favorite forgotten movie from your childhood that you sometimes catch on late night television and fall back into the same juvenile feelings you'd previously experienced. It was just a glimpse, yet I knew him by heart, and my insides jumped. The latest craze are those trampoline parks, and I'm confident my stomach was taking a ride through one of them, breaking all the rules about double bouncing.

I tried telling myself it couldn't be him. I would have heard if he were in town. But the truth was that I had quit following One Direction two or three months ago. My two-night stand with Harry had been magnificent, but we both had our own lives. There were a few times early on that I missed him, but honestly how does one miss someone that you don't really know? We'd shared a few lawyer jokes, swapped spit, and bumped uglies. But we really weren't anything to each other.

So seeing him shouldn't have felt like a kick in the gut. Yet it did.

His bright red shirt made him stand out from the crowd, and his hair had grown longer in the last six months. The curls were still there, though, as twirly as ever.

I attempted to forget about his presence, finishing my ribs with abandon, as though they weren't going to cost me an extra 20 minutes on the treadmill tomorrow morning. His ghost lingered in the back of my mind, and I found myself relieved that he hadn't seen me. I don't know that it would have made a difference if he had. But I'd spent the last several months putting his presence behind me, moving on, and I didn't need him to rear his beautiful curly head again.

By the time the client (a big-name Italian actor) ordered the fruit plate for dessert, I was beyond ready to get home to my own bed. Knowing I still had to walk a ways to the A line and then connect to the Q, my feet were already itching to be put up on the sofa. I contemplated treating myself to a cab ride home. It was Thursday night, so I could dress down the next day, and I was looking forward to sleeping in on the weekend.

Once the check had been paid, we stood, and I attempted to not appear as bored as I was while the client and Paul gabbed some more. Holding my white clutch close to my body, I rocked side to side in my silver open-toed heels, the ones that were so comfortable when I'd put them on that morning. After a full day of work plus the walk to the restaurant, my poor feet were wiped out. Neither man noticed my discomfort. Typical.

Finally, they shook hands, and the client headed for the back of the restaurant to sneak out. That's when it happened.

"Paul!" a voice boomed, and we turned towards the sound in unison.

"David!" Paul grinned at the sight of one of the senior partners at MPP. "Didn't know you were here tonight."

"Just meeting with a client. Paul, have you met Jeff Azoff and Harry Styles?"