The evening had not been the triumphant celebration of my friend Alexi's book deal that I'd hoped. Or rather, it had, but somewhere along the way the party left me behind. Alex usually relished her role of "wingman," almost to a fault. But tonight, understandably, she was too busy basking in the accolades to worry about whether I was going home alone tonight. And from all the attention she was getting, it looked like she was going to be too busy later for there to be any chance of our consoling one another, as occasionally happened.
I was at the "one beer too many" stage when I saw Alex from halfway across the room. She pushed the corners of her lips up with her fingers in the universal "smile!" gesture. Then stuck her tongue out at me. I had to laugh at that, but all the same it made me think the best thing for me to do was to wade through the room one more time, congratulate Alex, kiss her on the cheek, and go home to see what was on Cinemax later.
I was almost there, and waiting in line behind some blowhard talking about how Alex should have negotiated harder, when a tall, thin woman in a silk dress put her hand on my arm. It startled me a little, and I turned her way.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but aren't you a professor at George Mason?" she asked.
"Uh, sorry, no..." I could see the blowhard running out of air, especially since Alex was taking it out of him at every turn. People wonder why I don't go for more than just friendship with a hottie like Alex - the truth is she scares the hell out of me.
The woman turned to leave. "Sorry to bother you, then." I got a bit better look at her, and as I did this a short woman who shouldn't have been wearing anything strapless snuck in behind the blowhard to talk to Alex. The woman who thought I was at George Mason, on the other hand, was trim, curvy, and wearing a green dress that matched her eyes and set off her curly blonde hair. Wearing glasses, like about 90 percent of us in the room, but hers were expensive-looking ones that set off those lovely green eyes.
"Sorry, didn't mean it like that." I said. "I don't teach at George Mason, but I used to teach at Loyola. I gave it all up and started writing full-time a few years ago. Maybe you've seen me at book events?" She was beginning to look familiar to me too.
"Maybe..." she said doubtfully.
"Hang on," I said, putting my hand on her arm. "I'm trying to speak to Alex here. She's a friend of mine. Would you like me to introduce you?"
"Sure."
Mercifully, the short woman's fawning didn't last long, and I was able to get Alex's attention. I used this excuse to take the woman by the hand. "This is Alexi Morgan, a friend and writing buddy of mine who, I'm proud to say, has just signed the book deal of the century," I said, kissing Alex on the cheek.
"Hi," the woman said. I was hoping she would say her name at this point, since I obviously didn't have a clue, but she didn't. "Good luck with your book!"
"Thank you!" Alex said. "Does your friend have a name?" she asked me in a stage whisper.
"Well, we just met. Or rather, we're both trying to place each other." I said to the woman: "Sorry, help me out here."
"It's Tabitha. Tabitha Wilson. My friends call me Tabby."
"Meoww," Alex said. She may have had one too many of those fruity drinks that kept circling by. "Well, has my memory-impaired friend introduced himself, at least?"
"We were working on some theories just now," Tabitha said, "but nothing's clicking."
"Sorry. I'm Gordon Wainwright."
"That's it. I've placed you now."
"Really?"
"Commissioner Gordon. Hangs around with Batman."
"Oh-key," Alex said, and disappeared.
"Ha ha. No," I said, wishing I had gotten to talk with Alex a bit more, and trying not to roll my eyes. "Wait - did you ever go to the library at Loyola? I worked there some when I was teaching."
"No, I pretty much stuck to the one at George Mason. Ours was better."
"Thanks."
"Well, for my subjects."
"Okay, Tabitha, we've gotten as far as our names, anyway. Want to go somewhere and figure out where we might know each other from? It's too noisy in here to think." Which was a line, but had the added virtue of being true.
"Have you had dinner?"
We left the art gallery which was hosting the party and walked down a few blocks towards a Lebanese place I knew. "Do you live around here?" I asked.
"Just a few blocks west," she said.
"Me too. Maybe I've seen you in the neighborhood?"
"Doubt it. I'm always gone, and I bet I haven't taken two walks in the neighborhood since I got here."
"Oh." I said this rather flatly, because not only was that another dead end, but I had caught sight of the large numbers of people waiting outside the restaurant as we walked up.
