ah…forget.”
“I’ve moved back, Jen.”
“No, no, you haven’t,” she countered, her surprise laced with confusion.
Returning didn’t make sense at all. “Playwrights live in New York. We tried once, and it didn’t work. I’m sorry, Doug, but I’ve moved on. She turned toward her friends. “It’s time to leave. We’re all starving.”
Not yet. Not without him. He held out both hands, palms up. “Eight million people in New York,” he said, slightly bouncing his left hand. “And one Henny-Penny here.” He lifted his right arm high. “No contest.”
She shrugged. “You didn’t think so back then. You’re very good with words, images and make-believe. While I, in case you’ve forgotten, deal with real people.”
“I know.”
She stepped toward him, her purse falling to the ground, her friends closing ranks behind her. “Real people, Collins, like the Delaney family. Not your ordinary kind of family. Just a bunch of kids trying to survive.”
Good. Talk to me. Keep on talking. Communication is everything.
Before he could say a word, she turned to her friends again. A girl handed her the purse. “Sorry for the drama,” Jen said. “It’s the way he makes his living.
He’s good at it.”
“Him? What about you?” a guy said. “A new side of the mysterious Jennifer Delaney.”
So, he’d gotten to her, past her defenses. He wanted to cheer. The men were merely co-workers. If they thought of her as mysterious, she’d kept her private life private. Which meant no boyfriends. Regardless of what she’d said earlier,
she hadn’t moved on.
Which gave him hope.
Now all he needed was a little chutzpah to make his next move and be accepted by Jen’s friends. “I remember a great club near here,” he said, deliberately placing himself in the middle of the group. “Lots of eats, lots of music, and a karaoke bar.”
Jen had turned away, but he saw her stiffen. Tapping her on the shoulder, he said,
“You know we’ll have fun. At least a song or two. Come on, Jen…I dare you.”
##
Dare her? Like in the old days, except those were happy times with music and a microphone. Right now, she wanted the privacy of her own apartment. She needed to regain her equilibrium, to brace herself for whatever came next. But if she left, Doug would accuse her of running away. Again.
Pasting a smile on her face, Jen said, “All that goofing around in college? Nah. I don’t do that anymore.”
She threw a speaking glance at her girlfriends. They loved to kick back at the sing-along karaoke bars. Jen had the real voice, but they all had fun. Now, however, she knew her pals would cover for her.
“Then prove it,” said Doug.
“What?”
He was shaking his head. “You always enjoyed being on a cozy stage. I can’t believe you’ve changed that much. And you’re good! Let’s go to a club, Jen. For old times’ sake. After all, I am new in town….”
“Oh, pu-leeze,” she shot back. “You know this city like a native.”
“It’s been a few years.”
She turned to the others. “I’m sorry about all this. Do you mind if we skip the pubs and go right to Maguire’s? Real food for the starving plus live music, and
then I’ll go home. I’ve got an early choir rehearsal tomorrow anyway.”
“I don’t like this situation,” said Evan, a quiet type who missed nothing. “Just say the word, Jen, and we’ll get rid of…”
Oh, no! She patted the man’s arm. “I’m fine, Evan. Really. He’s not dangerous, except with a pen!” She smiled at him. “But thanks.”
Five years building a life, and in five minutes, Doug Collins could tear it down.
She couldn’t chance another disappointment. Why had he come back after all this time? Glancing at her watch, she sighed. One hour or so was all she’d have to endure.
##
The Irish bar was filling up, but they managed to get a booth for six immediately.
Jen sighed again, happy with their good luck, happy to keep to her one-hour plan.
Almost as immediately, Doug seemed comfortable with the group and made her friends feel comfortable with him. Not surprising. He had always been the proverbial “people person.” She’d credit his many psychology courses.
Evan’s quiet voice, however, managed to interrupt the general conversation about the menu and music. “So, Collins, what brings you back to Boston?”
A curious silence descended, and for the first time, Doug seemed to search for words. Jen’s ears perked up.
“Let’s say,” he began slowly, “a couple of new projects and one item of unfinished business. Very important unfinished business.” From diagonally across the table, he shifted toward Jen, his eyes capturing hers.
She sat straighter. “If you mean me, you’re mistaken,” she said, leaning forward, arms on the table. “Our ‘business,’ as you call it, is over. Nothing personal—
though I guess you’d think it was—but I’m not looking for a relationship with you or anyone else. Just not my thing.” Not anymore.
The quality of the following silence morphed from curious to deafening. She realized that in all her years with the company, she’d revealed more about herself
just then than ever before. And now to prevent speculation—and gossip—she’d have to explain.
She glanced around the table, finding sympathy laced with curiosity in her friends’ expressions. Okay. She could handle that. Her message, however, was meant for Doug. She returned her gaze to him.
“In my world,” she began, “people leave. First my parents—and you have no idea what that was like—and then you, and I wasn’t sure about Mike and Lisa staying together either. I know you have to accept what’s out of your control, like a car accident on an icy road. But I’m not going to volunteer for more heartache and grief. My life is great as it is. Your being in Boston is totally immaterial to me.”
“Then it seems,” he said softly, “that I have a lot of work to do.”
The waitress approached, and conversation turned to food and drink. “Just a cup of chicken soup,” said Jen. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Maybe him tagging along wasn’t a good idea,” said Evan, nodding toward Doug. “You’ve managed to upset Jen, who’s a very cool woman. So, let’s get the whole picture. Why else are you here? What kind of projects?”
Jen looked at her co-worker. Who would have thought that this quiet guy would speak up now? Still waters….?
