I picked Mistou up at 8:30. She looked incredible. Her dress was some sort of drapey, Grecian-looking number in sky blue silk and she’d styled her soft, natural hair into two thick braids on each side wrapping into a low bun at the nape of her neck. Creamy make-up and simple jewelry completed the look. I was wearing tan pants and a white broadcloth dress shirt with thin, blue stripes. We definitely looked like a couple.
“Wow,” I said as I twirled her around. It was a dorky move, but I wanted to see her from all angles. “You are so beautiful. Your hair looks great.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “Anali did it for me.”
“She got back from her date?” I asked, as I gently steered her towards a cab.
“Yeah, she rolled in at a little after six. She says she’s in loooooove,” Mistou said with a short laugh.
We entered the cab and I gave the address to Bobo.
“So, listen,” I said. “I wanted to give you a little background about this dinner.”
“Oh, good. I’ve been waiting for you to let me know what this is all about,” she replied.
“Well, that’s the thing. I’m not really sure myself. You know my friend, Mundo- he’s kind of all over the place. And now that he has me on the hook to work with him down in Panama, he decided I could stand in for him for a bunch of get-togethers he’s throwing in New York.”
Mistou looked confused.
“It’s really not that deep,” I tried to reassure her. “It’s just a bunch of rich business people and decision makers that Mundo’s trying to impress. This dinner in particular may be a little dry, but I’m expecting it to be relatively painless.”
“Okaaaaay,” she said, hesitantly. “And what’s my role?”
“Your role is to have a good time, enjoy some good food and champagne and chill with me. We’ll just float through the night, and when it’s done, I can take you out for a drink, if you’d like.”
“So, basically go with the flow. Just be,” she said.
“Exactly. Just be,” I agreed. Then I grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
Bobo was a French-inspired restaurant tucked discreetly in a 19th Century townhouse. The dining room was filled with candle light and tastefully arranged bouquets of summer flowers. I glanced around and easily confirmed that Mistou was the most stunning woman in the room.
The hostess led us to a large, round table set for twelve. Even though we were five minutes early, Mistou and I were the last to arrive. Oh well.
Doe’s friend, Skip, stood up to greet us.
“Pierre, so good to see you again!” he boomed. “I saved you a seat!” Mistou and I seated ourselves and intros were made all around. Once again, the google snooping that Hopeton and I had done was correct- this was a dinner for a select group of managing directors of private investment banks and their wives, plus Skip, myself and our dates.
The dinner was fine. Nothing much worth describing happened, really. If I had to sum it up, I’d say that Mistou and I drank Champagne, ate monkfish in saffron beurre blanc and roasted squab with braised endive and made pleasant conversation with rich people.
All that night out really did was prove to me that Mundo was having me take care of errands for him, albeit ones that were well-paid and didn’t run the risk of getting me five to seven in the Federal Penitentiary.
Once the bill was settled, Mistou and I were the first to say good-night. We hit Fourteenth Street and decided to walk a few blocks to gain our equilibrium after that random, slightly surreal dinner.
We walked arm in arm, laughing like teenagers fleeing a parent-mandated family gathering.
“That’s what you dragged me to New York for?” Mistou asked.
“If I told you I had no idea why I had to go to this dinner and actually didn’t know who was gonna be there, would you have said yes?” I parried back.
“Well, at least now I believe you meant it when you said you didn’t have anyone in New York to ask,” she teased, lightly.
I grabbed her and gave her a long, deep kiss. Right there in the middle of the sidewalk.
