I'd lost my mood for eating, and instead I sat numbly through the appetizer and the entrée, listening to her go on about what had transpired in her previous ten years.

Indeed, she was unsure of her occupational calling, so she flitted along through university, as she described it, searching for her passion. This search evidently led her to this fellow she'd met last year. Apparently, everything happened last year. She found her calling in graphic arts, she'd met her undeclared boyfriend, and she'd been introduced into a fine society of friends that she simply still could not get enough of.

He didn't go to the university, but rather dealt with some mystical business in the evening hours.

Her exact words.

Sounded juvenile, I thought.

I hid my reaction to the incredulity of her statement, something I was quite skilled at. She chattered on about the allure of his colleagues, then suddenly stopped and looked at me with a peculiar gleam in her eye.

"I think I know just the thing," she smiled.

I caught her drift before she said it, and I shook my head. "Thanks Brooke, but really, I'm not interested. I'm not in any position to be gallivanting around—"

"I swear you'll forget all your problems; I'm not kidding at all! I can barely remember life before I met this guy! If I wasn't all eyes for Gabriel, I mean, geez, Charlie, you have to see his friends, please, you have to!"

"It just doesn't feel right," I argued. This was going to be harder than I thought. I didn't come up here to get recruited to some weirdo soothsayers or whatever business Brooke's boyfriend practiced. Finding a boyfriend was the last thing on my mind. "Maybe in the future, but I can't. Not for a while, anyway."

Uncanny, really, because that was the precise moment her cell phone buzzed on the table between us. My heart stuck in my throat even before Brooke glanced down and suddenly became a giddy five-year-old. I knew who that had to be. And here I was, absolutely helpless. I just wanted some rest!

"Yes dah-ling?" She purred into the phone.

Funny how people change when they're on the phone. I folded my arms and leaned back in my chair, both out of courtesy (not that the couple four tables away from us couldn't hear her) and out of my typical passive sense of expression. Please let him tell her "not tonight." Please, oh please.

"Are you really?" She giggled.

I huffed. She was comfortable indulging in herself with me, and that'd made me feel comfortable enough with her. Almost as if we were old friends. But we were never this close. Maybe she'd gotten lonely. But I wasn't so lonely to willingly accompany her to watch her gush over her boyfriend. God only knew what kind of "stud" he was. That, and I was dead tired. It was nearly ten, and I wouldn't want anything more than to crawl under some blankets and curl into the fetal position until the sun forced its way up again. Only twelve hours ago, I'd been fighting off tears while trying to see clearly on the northbound Turnpike.

So much for time off.

"I would have never guessed it! Billy was always—"

Seems like he enjoys talking just as much as her, I thought to myself as I stared off beyond her to the rows of empty wine bottles on the far wall. This seafood restaurant was quaint, rustic, cozy, warm for a cool September night. I'd purposefully neglected the white zinfandel because I'd probably have ended up dozing onto the table from the day's journey.

"Gabe honey, remember what I told you today?"

My torso stiffened, anticipating what she was hinting at. My thoughts went blank, besides the incessant "no, please, no, say no..." repeating itself in my head. I watched her facial expression from the corner of my eye. Listening... a slight tension of focus... a nearly invisible flare of conceit... excitement... damn it.

"Could we? Oh, but hold on!" She pulled her phone down from her face, leaning forward to me with a widest smile. "Charlie!" She whispered. Now only the couple two tables away could hear her. "Eleven's not too late, is it?"

I pursed my lips and gave two stiff nods. It damn well certainly is too late.

She made her best impression of a sad puppy face.

I wasn't having it. "I just got here! Seriously, I'm tired!" I seethed as quietly as possible, hoping mister Gabe honey wouldn't hear me.

"I won't bother you for the rest of the week!"

"Look at this!" I said to myself, unable to contain my annoyance.

"Come on, it's only Wednesday! I won't bother you till Sunday!"

I looked at her helplessly, sighing and putting my head in my hands.

"She says yes!"

I shot her a quick look and she was back to her big smiles, entirely oblivious to the world. I hadn't acquiesced, how could she!

"Brooke!" I whined through grit teeth.

"The usual, okay! Yes! I'll see you soon—" And a series of air kisses that made my stomach turn.

I noticed the waitress awaiting a polite approach to our table, but Brooke got to her first.

"Espresso, if you have? Two?"

The waitress nodded and retreated.

"Eleven o'clock? Are you kidding me?" No, I wasn't letting her get away with this.

"Trust me," she leaned over the table, placing her phone down again beside the centerpiece. "He told me Jamie''s going to be there tonight, I think you two would make an amazing pair!"

I didn't hide my disgust at this.

But it hardly fazed her, and she tsked and waved her hand at me. "Trust me. Before you know it, it'll be six in the morning and you'll wonder where the time went!"

The laugh couldn't be suppressed. I'm no more "normal" than the next guy, but this was ridiculous! "Are we going to a party or something? What is this?"

"No, they're just taking the night off. I mean they'll do their business, too, but it'll be pretty informal. He doesn't have any meetings or anything like that, so it'll be laid back. Trust me-ee," she grabbed my arm and shook me.

My eyes rolled as she shook, another long and aggravating exhale escaping my passiveness. "I really don't – if there's a couch there or something, I'll be passed out on it," I gave her the eye. "And the rest of the week no more. You promise me."

"Deal," she grinned. "No harsh feelings?"

"Ah," I shook my head in wonderment of her childishness. And the inconsiderate request. "No, if there isn't any on your end, there isn't any on mine." But I am so fucking tired.

The espressos came and went. A second round of caffeine came and went, though I couldn't finish the last one to the last drop. We made a restroom detour before leaving the restaurant. Even when we got in the car, she was still primping and spritzing and giggling before zooming off.

I'm surprised she didn't get a speeding ticket. Did I mention that I hate being driven around? Especially when I have no bearings of my location? I discreetly searched for the names and numbers of local cabbies, should I need it. No need for discretion, I frowned as I glanced over at her. The music was loud and she was in a rush. And she was still oblivious to the world, which struck me as odd. Almost like she were in a trance.

"When's the last time you hung out with him?" I yelled over the din.

I had to repeat myself before she yelled back that Monday night was the last. Sad. Sure, I understand missing someone you're obsessed over, but how long does that obsession last? Maybe she did find her true love. Though I had my doubts. Many of them.

Only when she turned down a ritzy neighborhood where the houses had automatic gates and quarter mile circular driveways did some of those doubts start to disappear into thin air.

Well, why should I be surprised? Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against rich folk. In fact, I love the aesthetics. But not so much the arrogance that more often than not came along with it, I just excused them for being ignorant. But Brooke was wealthy, so why not? Maybe this was one of her father's friends, and, thus, true love.

When the gates electronically opened for us with a quiet whir, I was in a state of wonder as I sat back in her Audi, feeling wholly out of place, my physical exhaustion temporarily forgotten.

This sort of upper class, I've never been to. Look at me in my disheveled black hair with a linty black pea coat and thin blue scarf. My thirty-dollar pair of boots and four dollar leggings underneath the long grey sweater I'd gotten on clearance six months ago. What an insult to the high society, I chuckled to myself. We were nearly up to the main entrance now.

There were a few top-of-the-line vehicles parked around the bend that hugged a rather conservative entrance. Nevermind that it was a covered terrace of smooth limestone. Where was the valet, I thought sarcastically to no one. She pulled over behind a black Mercedes, put the car in park, and looked over to me.

"You ready?"

What was I, meeting the President? "As ready as I'll ever be. But listen!" I touched her arm before she could bolt out of the car. She forcefully stopped herself mid-reach for her door handle. "I'm really not in the mood. Please don't push anybody on me, at least not tonight." I had to satiate her match-making desires somehow. "Please?"

She made a half-frown in pseudo disappointment. "Okay. But if someone does come on to you, it wasn't me."

What the hell was I walking into?

As I opened the door, her door had already slammed shut. I looked up at the manse, my heart beginning to pound in my chest. This didn't feel right at all. Not at all.