Albie's birthday was a perfect disaster. At the last minute - the very last minute - the birthday boy, Meg's best friend, decided he wasn't in the mood for fondue.
"What do you mean you're not in the mood for fondue?" Meg asked as she drove her car in the direction of The Melting Pot.
"What's he saying?" Emma, seated beside Meg in the front seat, asked.
Meg waved Emma's question away with her hand as she strained to hear Albie's answer over the background noise from the bar he was at with his new girlfriend, Denise.
"I'm...we're...not really feeling the whole fondue thing tonight," Albie said, loudly. "I mean, it is my birthday, right? I get to choose?"
Meg swung her car off the ramp she'd been on headed toward Station Square and the restaurant.
"Of course you get to choose but damn, Albie, we're like two seconds away from there."
Albie effectively ignored Meg's irritation and suggested a little restaurant a few blocks away.
"The food there is great," he promised, "and they usually have some kind of band. I'm just not in the mood for the whole song and dance at the fondue place."
Meg sighed and then turned her car around. "Fine, we'll be there in ten minutes."
"Give me a little longer," Albie said, "I'm not as close as you are."
Meg disconnected the call and tossed her phone into a drink holder.
"Where are we going?" Emma asked. "You completely overshot The Melting Pot."
"No kidding," Meg said, sarcastically. "Prince Albert has changed his mind. We're going to some place called Seven now."
"We always have to do what Albie wants...go where he wants to go. I swear, he has no consideration," Emma fumed.
"Well," Meg began, "it is his birthday so I guess he's entitled to choose the place. But I guarantee you - this is what Denise wants," Meg said, unnecessarily stressing Denise's name. "Albie loves fondue. She's the one who doesn't want to go there."
"Did he say that?" Emma asked, as she checked her lipstick on her visor mirror.
"He started to say he wasn't in the mood for Melting Pot and then he changed it to 'we'."
"Yeah," Denise rolled her eyes, "it was her. Glad to see she's already in charge."
"You know how Albie is," Meg said, "he's always about the girl in the beginning but then he gets bored real fast. Denise is like all the rest - the sun will rise and set around her for a few weeks and then 'bam'...crash and burn."
Emma shook her head. "And to think I was once interested in him. Thank God I didn't go down that road."
Meg laughed. "But he does make quite a friend, doesn't he? I mean, we get all the good and none of the relationship drama. Win-win."
The two girls laughed at their spot-on assessment of Albie Barton.
*
Meg and Emma pulled into the crowded parking lot of Seven.
"God, this place is packed," Emma noted, straightening her dress as she stepped out of the car.
Meg looked around the parking lot and spotted a few women exiting a limo that had pulled up in front of the door.
"There must be some sort of bachelorette party going on, too."
They filed inside and instantly spotted their friend Tom who was surveying the crowd. He greeted both girls with a kiss.
"I thought I'd be the last one here," he said, "Albie called when I was on my way to the other place."
"I know," Meg said, "nothing like a last-minute change."
They approached the hostess and asked if there was any possibility of them getting a table. The hostess appeared doubtful but she studied the seating chart and reservation book anyway.
"I think I can squeeze you into a booth. We usually put four there but you can fit five if you'd like to try."
Meg looked at Tom and then Emma who were both in agreement. "That would be fine," she said, "whatever you have."
The three of them followed the hostess through the crowd and to their seat.
Moments later, Albie arrived with Denise.
"How'd you manage to get a table so fast?" he asked as he stepped aside to allow Denise to slide into the booth first. Tom, Meg and Emma sat quite scrunched across from them.
"This was the best they could offer," Tom said, a bit irritated. "I think you need a reservation in a place like this...especially during the weekend."
Albie shrugged. "Well, it all worked out and here we are. Everyone, this is Denise," he said, finally introducing his date. "Denise, this is Emma, Tom and Meg. My personal entourage."
Emma rolled her eyes. "At least that's what he thinks. Nice to meet you, Denise."
They all made their acquaintances and proceeded to look over the menus that were delivered by their server.
"The first round is on me," Albie said as he ordered two dirty martinis - one for himself and one for Denise.
"Oh my God, Albie," Meg said, "since when do you drink dirty martinis? You hate green olives."
Albie gave her a dirty look. "You must have me confused with someone else. I love green olives and all that...all that olive juice they add."
Meg stared at him and stifled the urge to shake her head.
"It's one of a million things we have in common," Denise said, leaning forward as if prepared to offer the group brand new insight on Albie. "The first time we went out for drinks I ordered a dirty martini and it was the craziest thing - Albie told me that was his favorite drink, too and I was like, karma."
"Karma?" Emma repeated not understanding her use of the term. "Don't you mean..."
Tom put his hands at his side and then reached over and lightly pinched both Emma and Meg on the leg, willing them to be on their best behavior and to silence Emma.
"Karma indeed," Tom said. "So what is it you do?"
"I'm a nail technician," she replied. "I work over at Vila Cera's in North Hills."
"Vila Cera's," Emma repeated, "I know that place. I used to go there, I don't know - about four years ago I guess. I stopped when I moved to the other end of the city."
"You should come back," Denise said, "I could fix up your nails for you - you'd love it."
Emma stared at her hands. "I just had them done..."
"So anyway," Meg interrupted as she turned her attentions to the menu. "What's good here?"
Albie sat up straight. "I've only been here once, with a client. I had the halibut and it was de-licious."
"Eww, yuck, babe," Denise said with a wrinkled nose as she sidled closer to Albie. "I don't eat fish."
"Yeah, me either, really," Albie lied. "The doctor I was with recommended it and I agreed to be nice. And to get him to buy my drugs," he laughed at his own joke referring to the prescription medication he sold to physicians.
Meg glared at her best friend, not quite recognizing the bumbling idiot he was channeling.
The server returned and they each ordered their entrees with the exception of Denise. She looped her arm through Albie's and told him she'd have whatever he was having. Meg knew Albie and she knew he loved seafood but she watched as he ordered two bacon-wrapped filets with baked potatoes on the side. Denise nudged him when she heard 'baked potatoes'.
"No baked potatoes?" Albie asked her.
She shook her head.
"Rice?" he suggested.
Meg gave Tom a sideways kick under the table and then made eye contact with Emma.
"Rice is good," Denise said, satisfied.
"Change that to rice," Albie told the server.
As soon as they'd finished ordering, Meg asked Albie if he'd go to the bar with her and help her choose another drink. She said she didn't like the one she ordered, which was a lie. In reality, she was looking for an excuse to have a word with him, alone.
"Wait until the guy comes back," Albie told her. "He'll get you something else."
Meg was losing her patience so she poked Albie's leg under the table with the toe of her pointy stiletto.
"Hey!" Denise cried out. "What was that?"
Meg sat up, looking and feeling mortified. "I'm sorry," she said, "I was just trying to cross my legs and I guess I stretched too far."
Denise leaned down and rubbed her leg dramatically. "That's okay," she said.
Meg couldn't understand how Denise's leg have been in the way but then she realized she must be practically sitting on top of Albie.
Meg looked over at Emma who started to laugh.
"I'm sorry," she lied, "I was just thinking of something that happened at work today."
"I'm going to the bar," Meg said, standing up.
"I'll come with you," Tom said, sliding out of the booth next.
Meg shot a look at Albie who finally picked up on what had happened. "I'll be right back," he told Denise.
"Yeah," Emma said, doing her best to appear pleasant, "all of you - hurry back."
Meg led the way through the crowd up to the bar. As soon as they reached it, she turned to Albie.
"Denise, huh," she said. "Really, Albie?"
Albie reached into his pocket to retrieve cash for her drink. "What do you mean?"
Meg looked at Tom for help.
"She's interesting," Tom said.
Albie sighed. "Meg, what do you want to drink?"
"Anything," she said, "nothing. I don't even want a drink. I wanted to talk to you without your appendage."
"Whatever," Albie said and then looked at Tom. "I suppose you don't like her, either."
Tom, who was always level-headed, always cool, shrugged. "Dude, I really don't care. Hey, do you guys think that girl over there with the nose tape is hot? In a weird, messed-up face kinda way?"
"Nice," Albie said, totally ignoring Tom's question, "you guys have known her what? All of five minutes and already you have her all figured out?"
Meg and Tom looked at each other and then nodded. "Yeah," Meg said, "that's usually the way it works."
"Well you're just going to have to suck it up and deal with it. She's a nice girl and I don't want you ruining anything for me."
Albie retrieved the glass of wine he'd ordered for Meg and proceeded to hand it to her. "Be nice," he warned.
"Or what?" Meg asked.
"Oh man," Tom said, "are you going to be sorry."
"I'm not the one who's going to be sorry," Meg huffed.
"No, no," Tom said, looking across the crowd, "not you. Albs," he said, "isn't that Alice over there?"
"What?" Albie said, turning around, "Where?"
"Over there," Tom subtly pointed. "Right. By. Our. Table."
Meg stretched her neck to get a look. And Tom was right.
Shocked, they watched from afar as Alice spotted Emma and proceeded to approach their booth.
Albie was gonna be in serious trouble.
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