The first hint of spring in downtown Bethesda brought out the crowds. Couples walked hand in hand, searching for an outside table at the American Tap Room. Throngs of teenagers ambled toward the Bethesda Row Theater. And a jazz trio played a New Orleans blues tune in front of Barnes and Noble.
Across the street, Cameron Talbot pulled her Honda up to the Valet sign where the attendant opened her door. “Welcome to Mon Ami Gabi,” he said as he helped her out of the car.
“There must be a thousand people out here tonight,” Melanie said, sliding out of the passenger seat.
And a thousand reasons I should be working my lab and not out on the town, Cammy thought. The sidewalks had a mini Mardi Gras atmosphere, but it was hard for her to mask her somber mood. Her day had been a series of struggles. Raj had come in to help with her calculations, and she had suggested they pool their resources and develop an integrated budget strategy so she could get Bollinger off her back. Raj hadn’t agreed. He just said he’d think about it and wanted to focus all his time on Q-3. And then when they tried a new simulation with Ben, it went completely off track, and all Ben said was that he “wanted another Mulligan.” At least the kid had kept his upbeat attitude.
Even though she was out with a friend, she couldn’t shake her sense of unease, as if an ill wind were blowing instead of this pleasant night air.
They pushed through the heavy glass door and headed to the maître d’ of the popular French bistro. They were ushered to a small table in the back room near a wall of windows that looked out at a side walkway. The rest of the room was encased in dark wood panels flanking honey colored walls. In that area, the din had lowered to a dull roar. “At least we’ll be able to hear ourselves talk back here,” Cammy said, reaching for her menu.
“And we have a lot to talk about!” Melanie replied while she scrutinized the wine list. “You want to share a bottle?”
“Huh?” Cammy said. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll drink more than a glass.”
“You know, one of these days, I’m going to get you to loosen up a bit.”
“Sorry. Guess I’ve been pretty pre-occupied.”
“Pre-occupied? I know things are tough right now. It’s just that I wish I could get you to relax once in a while. You’re always so serious,” Mel said.
“And you always say that. But think about it. It isn’t as if we work at Toys R Us. Although sometimes I have to admit it feels like our toys are broken half the time.”
Melanie chuckled “Oh, c’mon. Lighten up. Just this once. We’re out on the town and, come to think of it, I’m amazed you suggested it.”
Cammy sighed. “I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate your taking in a roommate.”
Mel adopted a serious expression. “It’s only until they catch the burglar. Then we’ll get back to normal.”
“ If they ever catch him, you mean,” Cammy said with a frown. She looked over Melanie’s shoulder and saw a skinny olive-skinned man staring at her through one of the windows. She glanced away. “Here comes the waiter. What do you think we should have? You’re the chef. What wine goes with Jell-O?”
“You must be looking at the children’s menu,” Mel said with her trademark smile. Then she turned and pointed to a small serving cart by the next table. “See that? It’s their wine-by-the-glass cart. You can sample different bottles ‘till you decide what you want. But I’m going to order a glass of their Cote du Rhone.”
“That sounds okay. What about the steaks?” Cammy asked.
“My favorite is the Steak Bordelaise. It comes with caramelized onions and mushrooms in a red wine sauce and a whole plate of pomme frites that are to die for,” she gushed.
“Guess that kills the no-carb thing for tonight.”
“Tonight I’m going to blow it all off and really enjoy myself.”
“You don’t need to lose weight, you know,” Cammy said.
“I’d like to drop five or ten pounds. Then I could be like Cassius.”
“Cassius?”
“Sure,” she said. “The guy with the lean and hungry look.”
“Speaking of a hungry look, some weirdo has been watching us.” She inclined her head toward the windows.
“Where?” Mel asked, twisting in her chair.
“Don’t look. You’ll just encourage him. No wait. I think he’s leaving.”
“What did he look like?”
“Strange. Middle-Eastern type.”
“Oh, they’re all over the place. Ever notice how they oogle women and party when they’re in this country? Stuff they wouldn’t dare to do back in Saudi or Syria or wherever they should be. Talk about hypocrisy.”
The waiter served the wine and took their orders. Melanie took a sip and continued. “There are an awful lot of those Moslem types back home in Paris. My parents say that thirty percent of all the babies born in Europe now are Moslem. They’re gonna take over one of these days.”
Cammy nodded glumly.
“But on a happier note, in France people have less heart trouble than we do here. And they say it’s because everybody drinks red wine.” Mel raised her glass. “So drink up.”
Cammy pondered the idea. “I’m not so sure.”
“Not so sure about what?”
“How about this?” Cammy said. “People who drink red wine get more headaches, and so they take more aspirin. And aspirin wards off heart attacks.”
“Oh geez! There you go,” Mel said.
“What do you mean, ‘there I go’?”
“You do that all the time.”
“Do what?”
“Figure out some back-door way to analyze something.”
“I do?”
“Sure. Guess that’s why you’re the scientist, and I’m the PR Department. And on that subject, remember, as soon as you nail the simulations, I’ve got some press releases ready to go . . .”
“I know.”
“And I’m working up a feature story with a great lead about ‘young scientist has major breakthrough.’ Then the committee will take notice and . . .”
“. . . We’ll get our R&D money,” Cammy finished the sentence. “I don’t know, Mel. I’ve never been into personal publicity. I remember something my Dad used to say about that.”
“Yeah? What?”
“He said, ‘I’d always rather have people ask me why my statue was not in the town square than why it was.”
Mel eyed her friend. “Well, let’s see how it goes. Maybe I can get Scientific American to publish a piece about ‘How to love a kinetic warhead’ or maybe ‘The story of lonely drones’.”