Tales From Our Near Future Page 2

  After a brief scan of the room with those serious dark eyes, Patty spotted Freddy at the bar, smiled, waved, and made her way to him. Freddy stood and extended his hand, which she took while delivering a peck on both cheeks. ‘Hmm,’ thought Freddy, ‘very European. Did I miss something?’

  “Hi,” she said, taking the bar stool beside Freddy’s. “It’s good to see you.”

  ‘No European accent here,’ thought Freddy. But somehow, her manner and style was as much an import as the sports cars Freddy liked best.

  They launched into conversation.

  “This is my first time here,” said Freddy.

  “So how do you like it?” asked Patty.

  “Not bad, but let me ask you something,” started Freddy as he held up his wine glass.

  Before Freddy could ask, Patty said, “What’s up with the water glasses for wine?”

  ‘Very sharp,’ thought Freddy. “Yes,” he said. “What’s up with that?”

  Patty smiled, “I have no idea. I think someone thought it was chic. What are you drinking there?”

  Freddy, a bit flustered by not having asked Patty first if she would like something to drink, responded, “I’m sorry. What would you like? This is a Pinot Grigio. It’s not bad.”

  “Sounds fine,” Patty responded.

  Freddy caught the bartender’s attention and ordered a second glass for Patty.

  “So, what do you think of the wine bar?” asked Patty.

  “I like the dispenser,” Freddy said as he looked at the centerpiece feature of the bar. He knew that it was from a company in Minnesota that has been making them since 2005. He even knew the patent number. Instead, he said simply, “I haven’t seen that before,” and, in real life, that was true.

  The bartender brought Patty her wine. She took a sip and said, “Mmm. Nice.”

  “I’m really starting to like Pinot Grigio. It’s become popular,” said Freddy.

  “Really?” replied Patty.

  “Not hard to guess the most popular type,” stated Freddy.

  “Ah… I’d guess Chardonnay,” said Patty.

  “Correctomundo,” said Freddy. “But Pinot Grigio is now number two,” said Freddy.

  “Freddy,” Patty said as though she was analyzing the name. “How is it you are Freddy? Is that what your mother called you?”

  “Full name on the driver’s license is Friedrich.”

  “Friedrich?”

  “Yep, Friedrich. Not Frederick,” grimaced Freddy.

  “Are you German?”

  “No.”

  “So…?”

  “Mom was something of a hippie and would-be philosopher. She liked Friedrich Nietzsche.”

  Patty squinted. “Your mom sounds intense.”

  “Yeah,” responded Freddy, openly embarrassed.

  “So are you Man or Superman?” asked Patty.

  “That’s Shaw,” said Freddy.

  “Yes,” responded Patty, “but based on Nietzche’s Übermensch.”

  “Oh, touché,” smiled Freddy. Patty might keep him on his toes, but he wanted to steer the conversation away from an intellectual discussion.

  “Say,” began Freddy moving to a more typical DC subject, “did we talk about what we did for a living?”

  “Nope, we haven’t touched on that. You first.”

  “I’m a business analyst. I survey what a business needs and write it down in a way that a computer programmer can turn into code,” said Freddy. “Now you.”

  “I work for the State Department,” said Patty.

  ‘Hmm,’ Freddy thought, ‘The State Department’s telephone listings are in the public domain. I don’t see her there.’ So he said, “Oh really?”

  “Yep.”

  “In the foreign service?”

  “No, I’m in the administrative branch here in DC.”

  “So, no overseas postings?”

  “Well, I’ve traveled.”

  Patty’s evasive answer at once intrigued Freddy and frustrated him. He had become accustomed to finding out most everything about everyone and, while he was able to nail all the basic information about Patty right off the bat, there was a depth of information about her that escaped him.

  “So, have you lived in DC long?” Patty asked.

  “About five years. How about you?”

  “I’m one of those rare birds born here.”

  “Really? Mom and Dad in the government?”

  “Dad is. Mom is a lawyer.”

  Freddy saw hits on Patty’s last name, Savino, for an attorney named Susan. That may be Mom. But he saw no hits for any man in DC with Patty’s last name. What was with the unlisted Savinos of DC?

  “Where are your parents?” asked Patty.

  “Dad lives in Cincinnati. Mom still lives in the house I grew up in.”

  “And that’s in…?”

  “Charlotte, North Carolina.”

  “I thought I heard a bit of a drawl,” smiled Patty.

  “Yeah, you wouldn’t confuse me with someone from New York. When we talked on the phone, I thought I heard a round O in ‘about’ and ‘house’ from you. It almost sounds Canadian.”

  “Well actually, Cockneys settled parts of Canada as well as the North Carolina outer banks and Norfolk. Some say that’s where the round O comes from,” responded Patty. My folks came from Norfolk, so I speak like them.”

  “That was all in the 1500’s,” said Freddy.

  “Well, actually, the 1600’s in Canada,” corrected Patty.

  “I thought those Cockneys came from London’s East End. Same place as where they are today,” rejoined Freddy.

  “Yes. They’re the ones born within earshot of the Bow Bells.”

  Patty and Freddy both stopped short of going on. It was if they were engaged in a Wikipedia duel. Freddy knew where his side of this discourse came from, but what about Patty?

  “Well, that was interesting,” said Patty slowly.

  “Ah, yes,” said Freddy, raising an eyebrow. After a pause, he continued, “So, isn’t this the point where one of us asks ‘Seen any good plays lately?’”

  “Well, as a matter of fact, I just saw Jumpers,” responded Patty.

  “Stoppard,” said Freddy.

  “Yep.”

  “Where at?” asked Freddy. (He knew it was at the Studio just down the street.)

  “The Studio Theatre,” responded Patty.

  “What’s it about?” asked Freddy. (The reviews he just retrieved said it’s about a professor getting ready for a debate about the existence of God.)

  “It’s an opportunity for Stoppard to do what he does best: Really funny, imaginative word-play,” said Patty.

  ‘Hmm. The critic didn’t put it that way,’ thought Freddy. ‘Independent thought. Nice.’

  Patty smiled in seeing that Freddy knew Stoppard’s work, if only one other. “Yes,” she responded. “Did you see that one?”

  “I saw the movie,” answered Freddy. (Released in 1990. Directed by Stoppard himself. Starred Gary Oldman, Tim Roth, and Richard Dreyfus.)

  “You know, I think that was the only film Stoppard directed himself,” responded Patty.

  “Really?” responded Freddy. (Database shows nothing else directed.) “But his stuff was in other films.”

  “Sure,” said Patty. “Shakespeare in Love, for one. I loved that film,” said Patty.

  The evening continued on in like fashion. At each turn, Freddy was no longer the smartest person in the room. Banter was lively, and few of the answers Patty gave were canned. Her observations were fresh. Freddy could not see others like them. He had to work overtime just to stay in the game as he searched for more and more information on topics they discussed. He was getting a rush and a headache. They drank wine, but these feelings were more than alcohol-induced.

  CHAPTER 4

  THE PARTY

  “A party?” Freddy asked. He was pleased Patty had called, and double-pleased that she was asking for another date.

  “Yep,” Patty said.
“It’s a girlfriend of mine. Her birthday. We’re going over to her place to celebrate tomorrow night.”

  Freddy wanted to see Patty again, but he was giving a request for a second date a little breathing room. The delay was partly not to seem too eager, but it was also to recover from the rush he’d felt that night. Nevertheless, he was pleased that Patty was taking the initiative. It didn’t surprise him.

  “Sure,” said Freddy. “Sounds like fun. Shall I pick you up?”

  “Her place isn’t far from mine,” said Patty. “We can walk it. The party starts at seven, so if you stop by here around then, we can be there in a few minutes and be fashionably late.”

  “Sounds fine,” said Freddy.

  “Great, see you then,” purred Patty. (OK, ‘Purred’ was the only way Freddy could describe her tone. It was definitely a drawn-out, playful departure. Freddy found it full of promise for things to come.)

  The next night, Freddy took the Metro just a couple of stops to Patty’s Columbia Heights condo. The building was just a few years old. Freddy could see the date the building opened, who built it, and other minutia—including unit prices. The cost of the least expensive unit was well above what Freddy could afford. ‘Just what is that job at the State Department?’ Freddy thought.

  Freddy walked into the glass-enclosed lobby of the building, found Patty’s apartment number on the directory and the code to dial (some things, like this dial-an-apartment code, are easier to look up like everyone else than to search for it in the cloud).

  After reaching Patty to announce his arrival, Freddy walked out onto the sidewalk to wait. He passed the time by scanning the neighborhood and creating his own mental guidebook of the place. Long ago, Columbia Heights was a distressed part of town. With the opening of the Metro here, things really turned around. When Target opened in 2008, urban hipsters knew that their neighborhood had arrived.

  Just as Freddy moved on to do a mental review of a local restaurant, Patty opened the door and joined him on the street.

  “Hi,” said Patty. “What’re you doing?”

  “Oh, hi,” said Freddy. He had been lost in his little guidebook game and had not noticed Patty stepping up beside him. “Just looking around.”

  Patty wore a dress not unlike the one on their first date. This one was short-skirted, displaying once again those long, lovely legs; but the neckline took a deeper plunge, showing off a nice cleavage. This little number was fire-engine red. Freddy liked to think this was all for him, but he knew they were going to a party with her friends and that she was dressing for them. OK, maybe a little bit for him.

  Freddy was dressed in khaki pants and a light green linen shirt with the tail out. He thought this was the right thing to wear to a summer party, but Patty seemed way more sophisticated.

  “Wow,” Freddy said. “You look great.”

  “Thank you,” said Patty as she smiled and did a small fashion dip with her arms extended, turning around once. “You like?”

  “Yes, I like very much.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Shall we go?” asked Freddy.

  “Sure,” replied Patty. “This way.”

  Had Patty supplied an address, Freddy would know exactly where they were going, but since his power fell short of mind-reading, he was in Patty’s hands.

  “So tell me about your friend,” said Freddy.

  “Her name is Lisa, Lisa Harrington,” said Patty.

  Lisa Harrington, ‘Yep,’ thought Freddy. (There is a Lisa Harrington that lives in this part of town. Do not see a photo though.)

  “How do you know her?”

  “She and I went to school together,” replied Patty.

  “To Catholic?” asked Freddy.

  “No,” said Patty giving Freddy a curious look, “GW University Law. How do you know that I went to Catholic?”

  Freddy had to think quickly. “It’s on your Facebook page,” Freddy said after a quick review to be sure that it was.

  “Hmm, checking up on me, are you?” asked Patty with a sly smile.

  “Gee, I thought you might want to friend me,” teased Freddy.

  Patty grabbed his arm with both hands and moved close for a squeeze. “Of course I’ll be your friend,” she said with a smile.

  Freddy liked the close contact.

  They soon arrived at Lisa’s building. It too, was a new modern glass structure that matched the style of the one they had just left. (They were built within two years of each other.) Patty rang up Lisa’s apartment and they could hear a lively mix of voices in the background when Lisa answered. Lisa buzzed them in.

  As soon as they stepped off the elevator, Freddy could tell which apartment was Lisa’s without a web search. There was a hum of muffled conversation and music coming from that direction. The door was left slightly ajar, so Patty pushed it open and Freddy followed her in.

  There were 15 or so people standing and clustered in small groups talking to each other. Everyone was around Freddy’s age with some demographics outliners present: A middle-aged man stood over there; a stately woman lingered in another spot. Freddy noted an elderly woman sitting on a couch in the corner, smiling pleasantly. She seemed to be listening to the conversation nearest her.

  Tall, blond, and enthusiastic, Lisa quickly came up to Patty wearing a big smile. “Patty!” she said, giving Patty a hug and air kiss. “So glad you came.”

  “Thanks! Happy birthday!” said Patty. “Lisa, this is Freddy.”

  Lisa turned to Freddy and took his hand firmly. “Freddy!” she said, “It’s good to meet you.”

  (Lisa Harrington. More information filtered in: Works for the World Wildlife Federation as a public outreach specialist, whatever that might be. Seems her name is attached to a number of published wildlife articles.)

  A slim dark-haired woman with fair skin, green eyes, and a cutting gaze turned from the group nearest them and took a couple of steps over to Patty. “Patty,” she said with a vague accent, “So good to see you.” She hugged Patty and then turned to Freddy. “So who is this handsome man you have here?”

  “Alisha,” Patty said, “This is my friend Freddy. Freddy, this is Alisha Myers.” (Alisha Myers: Lives two blocks over on 16th Street. Works at The World Bank.)

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Freddy,” said Alisha taking Freddy’s hand. “How did you two meet?”

  “Mutual friend,” Freddy and Patty said at the same time, laughing at the duality.

  Patty and Alisha had attended Catholic University together. — Alisha in the Political Science program, but Freddy already knew that. He volunteered that he’d attended University of North Carolina for computer science and was now working for a beltway bandit.

  “So, a very smart fellow you have here,” said Alisha to Patty, smiling slyly at Freddy.

  “Yeah, he’s not so bad,” replied Patty with a smile of appreciation.

  Alisha took Freddy by the arm, squeezing herself between him and Patty. “Let me introduce you around.”

  Freddy was a little uncomfortable to part from his date and be the object of special attention from an exotic woman, but glancing at Patty over Alisha’s head, she didn’t seem to mind.

  They approached a guy not much older than Freddy and Patty. He was tall, dark-eyed with a thick head of brown hair streaked prematurely with grey. He was talking to a woman who could have been his sister.

  “Freddy, this is Nicholas and Virginia Wade,” said Alisha. “Patty, I believe that you know Nick and Ginny.”

  (Nick and Ginny Wade are from Norfolk, Virginia. Nick is a political aid to the House Rep from the Norfolk area. Ginny is actually his wife. She works on the Hill, too, but it is not clear where. They were profiled in the Norfolk Pilot as a rising political couple on the Hill.)

  Nick, a gin and tonic in one hand, firmly shook Freddy’s hand and then nodded towards Patty. Smiling broadly, Ginny took Freddy’s hand with a vigorous shake.

  Not pausing, Alisha steered Freddy to the next guests with Patty tagging a
long.

  There were two men in the next group talking to a man and woman. The two men appeared to be a couple — one rolling his eyes at something the other was saying only as someone who’s heard the same story too many times. One of the men looked a bit like a beatnik with a Van Dyke beard. His partner was prematurely balding and sported a yellow bow tie and tweed blazer, giving him an academic vibe.

  The men were having an animated conversation with the other man and woman. The other man was casually dressed with a black tee and gray pants. He was fair, blond, blue eyed and gesticulated with his beer as he talked. The woman, a bottled blonde, listened intently to the conversation.

  As Alisha walked Freddy to the group, they stopped their conversation and turned towards them. Alisha began introducing Freddy, first to Howard Prince, the Van Dyke-bearded man, who’d just been making a serious point. Annoyed to have been interrupted at a critical moment, Howard slowly shifted gears and offered a lukewarm smile and handshake. Howard’s partner, Louis Drake, in a noticeable counterpoint to his partner, gave Freddy a big, open smile, and a vigorous handshake, then enveloped Patty into a friendly bear-hug.

  (Howard Prince: Leading gay-rights advocate in DC according to The Blade, which has published a number of his blistering editorials. Louis Drake: A frequent status updater on social media. Louis is an associate professor of biology at George Washington University, popular, thanks to his “showmanship behind the lectern,” according to one of his students.)

  “And this is Hans Neilson, and his date, Olivia Newsom,” Alisha said, gesturing to the blond couple.

  (Hans Neilson and Olivia Newsom both work for the World Bank. Hans is a native of Norway. Olivia is American. Freddy would know more about Hans if he understood Norwegian. Olivia works in the IT department on international communications links. She is gregarious, for a geek.)

  Just then, a man came up to Alisha from behind and tapped her shoulder. Alisha turned. “Jacob!” she exclaimed, releasing Freddy’s arm. “I didn’t know you were in town!” She hugged Jacob. “Just got in,” he said. “Forgive me,” Alisha said to Freddy. “This fellow and I have some catching up to do.”