The next night I met Carl Greenmam at Gramercy Bistro. Carl was already seated at his table by the time I checked in with the hostess. As I was escorted to the table, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was Karen - Karen - sitting with Carl! I felt my heart pounding and my hands started to clam up. Carl and Karen stood up.
“David. Hi, I’m Carl Greenman, and this is my assistant Karen Gold,” Carl introduced himself.
I shook Carl’s hand and then turned my attention to Karen Gold. Gold! That was the name that had eluded me for the better part of a year. So simple, too. Gold.
“Karen Gold,” I strung out the last name for a second or two. “So that’s your last name.”
“Nice to see you again, David,” she said, as I shook her hand.
“I’ve been trying to find you for the last year. Boy, you are one, difficult lady to track down,” I couldn’t help myself.
“You two know each other?” Carl asked.
“We met at a New Year’s Eve party last year,” Karen said, smiling.
“Well, isn’t that funny. What a small world. Listen, David, I just have to tell you. We love your story. When Sandy brought it to me I was a bit hesitant at first, but, when I started reading it, I could not stop until I had finished it. It is something special, indeed,” Carl admitted.
“Thank you, Carl. I think it is something special, too,” I answered.
“We’re going to fast track it and have it ready for publication in our next issue that hits the newsstand next month. We really think it’s going to generate a lot of interest,” Carl said.
“I certainly hope so. I’m tired of living on my sister’s air mattress,” I said.
“You are very funny, David,” Carl laughed. “Certainly no mystery here. You were definitely the person who wrote that story.”
Carl complimented me all the way through dinner. Karen smiled a lot, and threw her own compliments in every now and again. Carl then excused himself to go to the bathroom. This was my only chance.
“I didn’t know you worked at The Manhattan,” I said to Karen.
“I didn’t when you met me. I just started here two weeks ago. It’s the first job I’ve had in nine months,” Karen said, beaming at me. She was prettier than I even remembered. And she looked younger than I remembered. Maybe I was just comparing her to Sandy. But, now that I was sitting here with Karen, I realized just how old Sandy was. Karen sort of looked like Sandy. She had the long legs, the nice boobs, the pretty face, the blond hair, but Karen was the younger, sexier version.
“Wow, I can’t believe this. I’ve been trying to find you for almost a year. I had a great time with you on New Year’s, but you left so soon! I didn’t get a chance to even say goodbye, let alone get any info about you.”
“I know, I’m sorry. My brother pulled me out of there. He had some other party to go to. And of course he couldn’t leave his baby sister by herself at a party,” Karen said.
“Am I wrong or did we have something special there that night. I just couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Karen took a sip of her water and then put her hand on mine, “I felt the same thing, too.”
“I propose we do something about it right here. I would like to take you out tomorrow night. Do you like music? Because I know a great piano bar where we could go.” I was babbling.
“I’d love to. But you have to promise me that you won’t tell Carl. I really like my job and I don’t want anything to blow it,” Karen said.
“You have my word.” I was psyched.
I had to lie to Sandy, telling her that I was working late doing inventory at the store, but I didn’t really care. This bitch was going to show Sandy who had the upper hand in this relationship. If she didn’t have to commit, neither did I. More to the point, I had a strong sense about Karen that told me that she had been worth the wait.
I met Karen at The Eighth Note at nine. I loved this place. It was a throwback to the old-school, piano bars where you could request any song. The kicker was, here, you could sing along karaoke-style and an entire big-band would back you up. I got there a few minutes early, found a table off to the side of the stage, and ordered myself a G&T.
I liked that this bar was set up like a cabaret. There were small little tables scattered everywhere, all directly facing the stage. The few times that I had ventured on the stage, singing, and backed up by that band, I felt like an actual performer, belting it out for my devoted fans.
“Karen, over here!” I yelled, when I saw her walk in. Her straight, blond hair flowed behind her as she strutted over to me. She was confident. I loved that.
Karen sat down, ordered herself a red wine, and then said, “I’m so glad we have a chance to continue our last conversation.” She looked me straight in the eye. “So, the last thing you were telling me was the man you subletted your apartment from wanted $2.50 for a shower curtain.”
“I can’t believe you remember that,” I said smiling, as I took another sip of my drink.
“I remembered everything about that night. I still can’t believe Sara - that’s her name right? - pulled you away like that,” Karen picked up my drink, “You don’t mind if I have a sip do you? I’m so thirsty.”
Someone was singing. It wasn’t that bad. But, how could anything sound that bad with an orchestra behind you? And, it was an orchestra, with ten musicians on the stage. The musicians were dressed in tuxedos, and before each, stood a blue podium with two giant letters on them: E and N. It was a professional set-up, the likes of which would have made any singer proud.
The cocktail waitress walked over with Karen’s wine.
“Anyway, I’m glad we finally had a chance to get together,” Karen said.
“I was thinking the same thing,” I said. “Nine months is a long time to look for someone.”
“You should have looked harder,” Karen laughed.
After a few more drinks, and a funny lecture on the finer points of trying to locate someone that you’re interested in, I built up the courage to sing. “Do you like to sing?” I asked Karen.
“If you’re asking me to duet with you, I’m game,” she said. “Do you like old standards?” Karen said flipping through the karaoke songbook that was sitting on each table. The songbook listed songs that people could choose from to perform.
“Pick whatever you want,’” I said. “I’ll give it a whirl.”
Karen was on her third glass of wine by this time. She ran up to the piano man and requested our song. Before we knew it, he called our names.
“David and Karen! Come on up, it’s time for you two to croon,’” he called, before launching into a salsa-rhythm introduction. The band followed along.
Karen sauntered up to the stage, stumbling a bit. A few drops of wine spilled from her glass as she tottered up to the stage. I followed the crumbs, er, wine-drip, footpath Gretel left for me, and met her on the stage. Karen took the microphone out of the stand and began the first verse. Then I joined in, our voices colliding, resulting in an utter disaster.
Karen is an absolutely horrible singer. I think she’s awesome and hot, but the girl can’t sing. At least she was trying. It was kind of endearing. On the other hand, I can kind of sing on key. It’s the high pitched, nasally, singing voice that’s my downfall. Otherwise, I would have been a rock star by now.
I moved my hips a little, in a feeble attempt at dancing. I’m terrible - at least I know it.
“Whoops,” Karen said, laughing and stumbling, as her wine flew out of her glass into the crowd. I guess she was dancing, too.
“You got wine on me, bitch!” someone screamed from off-stage.
Hey, pal. Don’t fuck with the talent.
Karen provided the big finish. Totally trashed, she accidentally threw her wine glass across the stage when she flailed her arms Broadway style, attempting to hold the last note of the song forever. She was giving the crowd all she had.
“Goodnight, everybody!” I yelled as we finished.
I hugged Karen, “That was great,” then threw the microphone down on the floor like the rock star I was.
“We rocked,” Karen hugged back.
I leaned in and went for the kiss. Our lips met, and we kissed for what seemed like hours right off to stage left. It was great.
The audience applauded, but I think they were applauding the kiss. There was no way they were clapping for our horrendous singing.
We had a few more drinks, got to know each other a little better, before I took Karen home in a taxi. I walked her to her apartment building’s door.
“You know, you are really talented,” Karen slurred, “Your story is really great. Thank you so much for taking me out. I had a wonderful time”.
“Thanks. I had a great time too. You’re a lot of fun,” I said, going in for another kiss. “You know we’re going to have a lot of time to work on our duets. I intend to ask you out pretty much every day.”
“Well, if that’s the case we should have our act down in a couple of months,” she said.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said, walking away.
“If I don’t call you first,” she said, and she closed the door to her building.
I saw Karen every night after that for a week. I even slept over at Karen’s apartment one night. Things were going great. What was I doing with someone who looked at me like another toy, when Karen seemed to actually care about me?
There were a few things that I was conveniently leaving out of my conversations with Karen. Namely, I was basically Sandy’s bitch, and living in the apartment that she bought for me. I would eventually have to come clean, but for now, I figured, why spoil all the fun? I still thought that I could somehow end my relationship with Sandy gracefully, and just pick up with Karen. But, of course, it is common knowledge that things don’t always go as smoothly as planned.