The Blue Bistro
“It was ten minutes to six on Thursday night, 101 covers on the book, and Thatcher actually had the gall to knock on the door of the ladies’ room where Adrienne was brushing her teeth and deciding whether or not to quit.
“Come on out,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”
Adrienne shut off the water, tapped her toothbrush angrily against the side of the sink, and flung open the door.
“You have some nerve,” she said.
He held up a wine key. “I’m going to show you how to use this. Now. We’ve waited to...o long.”
How did he manage to look better than ever on the one night (possibly of many) Adrienne had arrived at work prepared to hate him? It looked like he had gotten some sun—his face had that healthy golden glow. Did you go to the beach? Adrienne wanted to ask. But no, she wouldn’t. Just as she wouldn’t ask him, How was your dinner? (though she had practiced the exact tone of sarcasm and contempt).
How did he have the presence of mind to stand before her holding up the wine key as innocuously as a door-to-door salesman?MoreLess
“Come on out,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”
Adrienne shut off the water, tapped her toothbrush angrily against the side of the sink, and flung open the door.
“You have some nerve,” she said.
He held up a wine key. “I’m going to show you how to use this. Now. We’ve waited to...o long.”
How did he manage to look better than ever on the one night (possibly of many) Adrienne had arrived at work prepared to hate him? It looked like he had gotten some sun—his face had that healthy golden glow. Did you go to the beach? Adrienne wanted to ask. But no, she wouldn’t. Just as she wouldn’t ask him, How was your dinner? (though she had practiced the exact tone of sarcasm and contempt).
How did he have the presence of mind to stand before her holding up the wine key as innocuously as a door-to-door salesman?MoreLess
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