Monkey Business

layla gets bubbly

7:45 p.m.

“You look marvelous, darling,” Ronnie, my little sister, says, patting down my hair.

I’m sitting at my vanity table in my room in Manhattan, enjoying the space, lining my eyes. “Thanks.”

In the mirror she looks like a miniature version of me. A few years younger, her facial structure is daintier, her eyes smaller, her hair shorter. She graduated from Brown last May and is now at Teacher’s College. I tried to talk her out of it. With so many options available to her, why does she want to be just a teacher? But she ignored me. She sets her glass of champagne on my night table.

“That better be on a coaster,” I say. The apartment is not quite in the condition I left it in. I’ve noticed numerous scratches on the coffee table.

“We’re going to head over to Mack’s tonight,” she says. “So you can be aloooooone with Bradley.”

Mack is Ronnie’s long-haired boyfriend who isn’t good enough for her.

“Have you spoken to Mom?” I ask. “Is she in the city?”

Ronnie rolls her eyes. “Who knows? I haven’t heard from her in months.”

“Don’t be rude,” I say, and pick up the phone. “Let’s call her now.”

Her voice mail picks up. I leave a message.

“I’m shocked,” Ronnie mutters, and walks away.

“She’ll call us back later,” I call after her.

“Whatever.”

At five to eight, the doorman calls up. “Bradley is here.”

“Thank you, send him up.”

When the buzzer sounds, I’m balancing myself on the arm of the couch, holding a glass of champagne. I can’t believe this is happening. Bradley Green is picking me up on the eve of Valentine’s Day. The hockey game is blaring in the background from the flat-screen TV. Ronnie opens the door.

Bradley is wearing a black suit, and is holding a bouquet of roses. A dozen long-stemmed red roses. How perfect! He tugs one out of the bouquet and hands it to Ronnie. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says.

“How sweet!” my sister shrieks.

I approach the door, and he plants a kiss on my cheek. My entire face tingles.

“For you,” he says, handing me the bouquet.

Aw. “Thank you.”

As I find a vase to put the roses in, I hear him discussing the hockey game with Mack. Seems like he knows just what to say to everyone.

By the time we leave, both Mack and Ronnie are swooning. When Brad’s not looking, Ronnie mouths, “Wow.” I believe they are impressed.

In the elevator, I wonder if we’re going to walk to the restaurant or flag a cab. But a black sedan outside the door answers the question. Is that his car? Did he hire it for the night? I’m feeling mildly light-headed. I’m unclear if it’s from the champagne or the roses/suit/car combination.

He takes me to La Grenouille, and does everything right. He knows his wines, listens while I talk, asks all kinds of questions. After dinner, he drops a platinum American Express card on the table, and asks, “Would you like to go to Plush?”

Plush is the new VIP hot spot on Forty-second Street. This is turning into the best Valentine’s weekend ever.