Chapter 8

Ben embraced Molly as they stood outside the TSA checkpoint at the entrance to his gate's concourse. He kissed her lips. "I'm really sorry you're not coming with me," he said.

"I am, too -- but duty calls."

He kissed her lips again. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too."

"I'll text you with my room number when I get to the hotel," he said. "Just in case you need to be in touch with me."

"You'll have your Treo -- right?"

"Right; and my laptop so you can send me email."

"I don't know when I'll have time. These partners meetings keep me hopping."

"Maybe next year's conference will come at a more convenient time for you." He kissed her again. "I'll call you on Thursday before boarding my flight so you'll know what time to expect me. I left a copy of my itinerary on the kitchen table. I think it's scheduled to get in at six in the evening."

"Then, I'll come here straight from work."

He caressed her cheek. "I will miss seeing your pretty face in the morning."

She smiled. "Have a good trip, Ben. And, have a good conference."

He turned and headed for the screening line; then looked back at her and waved. He passed through the metal detector, picked up his carry-on and headed down the concourse to wait for his boarding call.

His was a window seat over the wing. He buckled himself in, scanned the emergency procedures card and waited for the pushback and the taxi to the line. The pilots opened the throttles and he felt himself pushed back into his seat from the acceleration. Once air born, Ben closed his eyes, leaned against the inside of the fuselage and attempted to put himself into suspended animation as the flight droned on toward the West Coast.

The aircraft touched down at SFO. Ben deplaned, picked up his luggage and made the hike to the BART station attached to the airport. He bought a ten-dollar BART ticket, slid it through the turnstile and awaited the train. After a forty-five minute ride he was at the Embarcadero station, riding the long escalator to the surface.

He checked into his room at the Hyatt, texted the room number to Molly and headed to one of the ballrooms for conference pre-registration. A review of the agenda showed him that his first meeting was at nine the next morning, following a welcome breakfast.

Ben carried his laptop to the ground floor lounge, flipped it open, logged into the hotel WIFI and began reviewing his email.

A cocktail waitress approached him. "May I bring you something?"

He looked out the window toward the cable-car terminus outside as he thought. Some cable-car crew were pushing the car from the outbound to the inbound tracks. "A martini," he replied.

"How would you like that made?"

"There is only one way to make a martini," Ben replied. "Gin and dry vermouth, stirred and with an olive."

"Very good..."

"Oh -- if possible I'd like it made with Hendricks's gin."

"I'll see if the bar stocks it, sir."

Ben returned to his laptop. His attention was interrupted by a woman's voice. "Ben -- Ben Moore!"

He looked up. "Natalie. How are you? I assume you're here for the conference."

"I certainly am. May I join you?"

"Please." She sat in a chair opposite him at a low table. "Can I buy you a drink, Natalie?"

"I've quit."

"You've quit drinking?"

"I'm in AA. I discovered I have a problem with alcohol. Alcohol and I don't hang any more."

"Can I get you a soda or an orange juice, then?"

"Maybe a Coke -- no, make it a Sprite."

"Diet or regular?"

"Regular."

The cocktail waitress returned with Ben's martini. "A regular Sprite for the lady," he said to her.

"Yes, sir."

"So," Natalie said. "What has it been? Three years?"

"Yeah -- it was about three years ago that we had our little assignation," he replied. "I haven't seen you at these since."

"I've been getting my life back on track. Three years ago was about when I hit rock-bottom."

"Hmmm ... It really gets me in the old ego to think our one-night-stand was your nadir."

"Oh, Ben -- I didn't mean it that way. You'll probably remember I was pretty drunk that night."

"Well -- I was, also."

"For me it was my normal state of being."

"How long have you been sober?" he asked.

"Two and a half years," she replied. "It took an intervention by my family to get me turned around. I'm so glad they did -- not only has my work improved, I discovered I had an extra thirty-five hours a week. I'm using the time to work on my first novel."

Ben nodded. "I've got a novel in the works, also. I can't quite find the right traction with it."

"Are you still with Wendy?" she asked.

Ben shook his head. "We've been split for two years. That little letter of yours was the beginning of the end."

"I'm so sorry for that, Ben. I was pretty under the weather when I wrote that. Once I realized what I had done, it was too late. If I could've recalled it from the post office -- I would have."

"Well -- at the time Wendy was handling my business affairs. That letter arrived and looked like business correspondence, so she opened it. There was no way I could explain my way out of it."

"Oh, Ben -- I'm really, really sorry."

"It was for the best. We were headed that way anyway. It just hastened the demise. In a way, it was a kindness. It made the breakup more stressful, but a lot shorter. So, actually you did me a favor."

"You're too generous, Ben."

"I know I am," he replied. "Especially when it comes to the ladies. It's a fault of mine."

The waitress brought Natalie her soda. "Anything else, sir? Mam?" she asked.

"Just the check."

She put the slip onto the table and Ben picked it up. "Nine bucks for a martini and three for a soda..." He took out his wallet and retrieved a credit card.

"How is your business?" Natalie asked. "Are you still doing memoirs for B-list and C-list celebs?"

"I'm doing my share. Actually, I just landed my first A-list client."

Her eyes grew wide. "Really? Who?"

"I can't say."

"Give me a hint."

"Okay ... She's..."

"A she. That eliminates half the possibles."

Ben smiled. "She was a hot property about fifteen years ago ... had a bunch of affairs ... her own trouble with intoxicants, legal and otherwise ... spent some time riding the horse..."

"Heroin? Really?"

"Yep -- she was fond of the vein candy. She's clean, now. She had a number of high-profile lovers and now she's writing a tell-all."

"Sounds juicy. I'm sure I'll recognize your tender touch once it hits the streets."

"She got a million-dollar advance for it," Ben remarked.

Natalie let out a low whistle. "Ben -- with your cut..."

"Yeah -- my first really big client."

"So -- you're doing all right. I, on the other hand, am keeping my day job."

"There has to be more than enough work out there for you," he replied. "It seems every time I turn on the morning news shows, they're interviewing yet another personality who's written a children's book -- folks I would never imagine."

"There's not an awful lot of prose to fix in a kids' book," she replied. "I can usually knock one off in an evening. Also -- the numbers are a lot lower."

"Why not branch out?" he asked.

She chortled. "I think I've killed so many brain cells, my creativity operates only on the level of a seven-year-old." She shrugged. "It's what I like to do, and it leaves me time to work on my novel." She regarded him. "So, how's your love life, Ben?"

"How's yours?"

She shook her head. "I'm on the prowl. I tell you, it can be tough, especially when you're cut off from the drinking crowd."

"Well, I have a new partner," Ben said.

"How long?"

He looked upward. "Three months and three weeks, now -- almost four months."

"What's she like?"

"Young, professional gal ... maybe four years younger than I am ... five-foot-five. Think Scarlett Johansson but with a rounder face, fuller cheeks, pale skin, a little upturned button nose, crystal-clear blue eyes and shoulder-length raven hair."

"Do you have a photo?"

"Shit, no I don't. Maybe I can..." He pulled out his Treo and punched in a number. "She has a camera on her cell. Maybe I can convince her to take a snap of herself..." He listened to his phone. "Rats -- voice mail." He cancelled the call.

"That's okay, Ben. You did a pretty good job of painting a picture for my mind's eye. She sounds like a looker. What's her name?"

"Molly."

"Molly ... Are you happy together?"

"Wonderfully happy, Natalie. We're true soul mates. I do believe she's the one."

"The one ... I'm delighted for you, Ben. You're a lucky guy."

"I know I am."

"Say -- are you doing anything for dinner?"

"No plans yet," he replied.

"I was going to take a cable car up into Chinatown."

Ben shook his head. "I think Chinatown has become a bit trite. The cable cars are fun, but along the lines it's like one giant, outdoor shopping mall. I like to go a few blocks beyond the cable cars and experience the real San Francisco."

"Like what?" she asked.

"Well ... for example, take one of the streetcars that run along Market Street -- get off at Larkin and walk up to Little Saigon for some Vietnamese or Thai."