Truth. Justice. Minesweeper.

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

I chewed Ron a new hole for giving my number to Erin. His excuse?

"I thought you still liked her!"

"Ron, do you not listen to anything I say?"

"You get this look in your eyes when you talk about her . . ."

As if.

Anyway, I met her for coffee at Queequeg's, and it wasn't too bad. She looked the same; same arrow-straight hair, same pointy chin. We talked for a while about where various people had gone since graduation, and that was fine. She had her new boyfriend with her, a big blocky dark-haired guy named John. John didn't say much, which was okay, since Erin has never had a problem keeping up her end of the conversation.

Then we talked about what we're doing now.

"I do miscellaneous admin stuff for a little building management company," I said. It was starting to roll off my tongue more easily now.

"Is it interesting?"

"It's not bad. How about you?"

"High finance, baby! I'm an intern at Laslin Dufresne Cathcart. That's where I met John."

John smiled, but he didn't look like he meant it.

"You like it?"

"It's the best! I work for Mr. Laslin's assistant. I'm learning so much." A pager went off, and John touched Erin's elbow. "Listen. I've got to go. This was great! We'll have to keep in touch!"

I was pretty sure I would, in fact, have to. Aah, it wouldn't be so bad. It's not like there's actually anything unpleasant about Erin.

As they left, a couple of other guys got up from a table beside the door and followed them out. One of them made eye contact with John on his way out. Well, that's weird. Bodyguards?

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