To You and Back

Chapter 6: Dinner With Michael, Dessert With Charlie

Three ice cubes melted and clicked gently in the glass of whiskey, slipping down with a slight slosh into the deep amber liquid. Peter, head tilted, watched though the glass as the ice settled on the bottom, before picking it up and swirling the drink around, rattling the cubes once more. He sat in an old fashioned piano bar, done in dark wood and amber lighting. A long bar curved to the right, with lights under the counter on the outside, glass body lamp on top, and high chairs with low backs along the sides. Behind the bar, mirror backed shelves lined the walls, filled with bottles, glasses and decanters. To the left, behind a glass and metal partition, floating stair led to the second level with glass walls that looked down on the bar, and further back, white brick arches led to the unseen piano.

It was a favorite place of Peter's, small and quiet, out of the spotlight of tourism, a place he could call all his own. He glanced at his Rolex; half past seven. Evening mass would have let out at six thirty, and it would take about an hour to finish up duties, go home, maybe shower, certainly change, then come uptown. Which meant he should be arriving any minute n—

A hand clapped Peter on the shoulder and a warm voice spoke from behind. "Been waiting long?"

Turning, Peter looked up into the soft blue eyes and handsome smiling face of his best friend, dressed casually in a dark knitted sweater and jeans, his blond hair feathering over his forehead. Peter smiled. "All my life."

Michael laughed. "That's good," he said, as Peter stood, and the two men exchanged a warm, friendly embrace. "I almost believe you."

"I must be slipping then."

Michael laughed.

"Are we eating?" Peter asked as they broke apart.

"I could eat."

They got a table—which Peter had actually reserved in advance, but didn't say—on the upper level, overlooking the end of the bar, and ordered two steaks and a bottle of red wine.

"How's work?" Michael asked, once the waiter had left with their menus and orders.

"Good. I spoke with Takahashi today and he confirmed that I was on the short list for senior VP of acquisitions. If all goes well, this time next year I could be working out of HQ in Paris."

"Well, that's great!" Michael said. "That's been your dream job since you joined the company. I would of course hate to lose you to Paris, but..."

"I'll be back enough to make you sick of me."

"I'll hold you to that," Michael said, holding out his glass.

Peter clinked it lightly with his own.

"Didn't you go on a trip this weekend?" Michael asked, refilling his glass and then Peter's.

"I did. I just got back from Verona."

"And by just, you mean..."

"A few hours ago."

"Of course," Michael said, sighing. "You work too hard."

"Are you my mother?"

"I swear you're just as bad as my brother."

"You just committed two transgressions: swearing and cruelty."

Michael rolled his eyes. "I meant, any sign of concern and I immediately get called a mother hen. I'm allowed to care, as a brother and a friend, so shut up and take it."

"Hmm, getting a little rough there, Father."

"Seriously," Michael said, pointing his glass at Peter, "you're too alike."