Sixth Wheel

Chili Fries and ChitChat

During the third period they poked away at the chili fries, Esposito washing his down with Coke, Meredeth with a mix of tequila and Sprite. The rest of the conversations in the bar, even the game, seemed to fade into the background static as he listened to her talk. She had the most fascinating timbre to her voice, even if half of what she said was the vocal equivalent of honey coated barbed wire.    

"How could you possibly think anything after the ninth season has any merit? Everyone knows season eight was their best work."

"You just say that because you're a Johnny Cash fan. Season ten of The Simpsons was awesome. Though, truth be told it was the first full season with no Troy McClure."

"I suppose you think that The Godfather III was a crowning achievement too."

"Was that the one with Andy Garcia?"

Meredeth let her fork clatter comically to her plate. "What do you mean was that the one with Andy Garcia? Of course it was! He was the only redeeming thing in that shit-heap of a film. I don't even own a copy and I own over three hundred movies."

Esposito stuffed a fry in his mouth; that way it'd be harder to shoehorn his foot in. Clearly, Meredeth was not a girl to tango with when it came to the subject of films. "Have you seen that new Matt Damon flick out?"

"The Adjustment Bureau? Not yet. It wasn't on my cover list. I'm a media critic, of sorts," she explained off his look. "I write for an online site, so I mainly work from home, but twice a week, I'm forced to deal with the fuck-wit the powers that be call my editor."

"Poor you. We should check it out."

Meredeth smiled at him. He was charming, and he's had just as rough a night as her, if not worse.  And she could always get the skinny on him later from Cecil. "Sure, I suppose."

She pulled out an iPhone, tapped at the screen. "What's good for you? I'm pretty flexible."

"Is that an iPhone? Mind if I have a look?"

Meredeth considered only a moment saying no; Cecil knew the guy, he was a cop, but it didn't mean he wasn't a player. "Everyone complained when they first came out how un-user friendly they were, but I think most people just didn't have the patience and turned three hundred dollor pieces of technology into very expensive coasters."

"True say. My grandmother calls me up every time  her satellite connection goes down, thinking I know it all because I'm 'the boy'," Esposito explained with a requisite eye roll for his abuela, making Meredeth laugh. "God forbid she should be without her 'Hawks games." 

"You're from Chicago, then?"

"No, but she is and even after thirty-plus years in Spanish Harlem, she remains devoted." 

"Tell me about it. You can tell mine the Mets suck all you want, and she still has the day her season tickets are mailed out marked on her calendar like it's her birthday or something." 

 Esposito smiled at her. Once you got past that prickly exterior, he saw they had more in common than he'd guess. "So The Adjustment Bureau, you free on Saturday?"  

"I suppose so. It's just that..."

The bounce was gone from her voice, replaced with a weariness that made Esposito feel like a fool. Of course she wasn't single; why would he think someone like her would be on the market? She was about to give him the 'we can still be friends' brush off. And why, he thought with an oily slick of panic coating his stomach, was that making him feeling so squirmy inside? He's just met her not an hour and a half before. What she said next nearly had him fall off his chair.

"Why would you want to go on a date with me?" 

She was joking right? This had to be some kind of sick joke she was playing on him. But when he saw the sadness, the caution creep into her eyes, Esposito realized she wasn't joking, nor was she fishing for compliments. She was most likely coming off of a bad break-up, past the rebound stage but still wary. Instead, he nudge the plate towards her, let her finish the last of his preciously treasured chili fires. "Because you're awesome and I think it'd be fun."

The simple conviction of his words words had her smiling again. If her really knew her track record with relationships, he'd probably run screaming in the other direction. "Okay. But I'm apologizing in advance if I turn into Mount Saint Cuckoo and spew molten crazy n you. I've had some bad luck, I mean really shit luck with guys in the past, so first dates aren't so much romantic fairy tales to me as they are Geiger-counters of how screwed up things are or will get."

Not just a bad break-up, he realized, but severely burned. Fiancee ran off with her bridesmaid, he guessed, or one of his ushers. Letting it go for the time being, he took a sip of his drink and shook his head reassuringly. "I'm a murder cop, Mere. There's not a lot I haven't seen, heard or dealt with, and trust me, until you've dated a couple of the husband hunters from my grandmother's neighborhood, don't go thinking you've got the corner market on crazy."

"Don't be so sure. I once camped out for Phantom Menace tickets." 

"Oh well, then I take it back."

She laughed richly, making so of the tension disappear. Mere considered him as he glanced up to check the score of the game, bit her lip to hide the smile as she saw the inner little boy of him cheer as the Blackhawks scored to make it four-to-one with three minutes left in the period. She opened her mouth to offer her number to him when her cell being to merrily sing 'Telephone' by Lady Gaga.

"Of course." She grabbed it off the bar, saw it was her editor and rolled her eyes. He only called after hours if it was important, like the-Internet-is-about-to-die important. "I'm sorry, I have to take this."

Esposito watched her as she took the call, and slid into work mode just as easily he did when he got a call. Whoever it was on the other end of the line was getting properly reamed out, but made some kind of deal as Meredeth rolled her eyes in frustration, agreed to the midnight showing. When she hung up, she was equal parts irritated and apologetic.

 "I have to leave. My editor wants me to cover the midnight showing of Fire Walk. The girl who was supposed to do it had some kind of emergency. I'll see you later."

She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, as if it was an old habit of theirs, left the bar to catch the train back to her apartment to get her notes off her laptop. It wasn't until she was on the five train she looked at her phone and saw the little flag saying she had a new memo. A few quick taps and she was grinning like a fool. "Clever boy," she murmured aloud to herself.

    J.Esposito. 212-554-0679
    Let me know where to meet you on Saturday night.