We met on a sweltering August afternoon. The city itself seemed to be sweating. The myriad of taxi cabs that clogged the city streets screeched and wailed as they sped to and fro on the hot pavement. Pedestrians of every age, shape, and background trudged down the crowded sidewalks, eager to arrive at their respective destinations, where air conditioning would offer them comfort from the unbearable heat. Few chose to patronize the outdoor café, my humble place of employment.

Oh, and the work! It was grueling and thankless. I relied heavily on the generosity of tips, and even a transient New Yorker, such as me, recognized that generosity was seldom seen or heard in this bustling metropolis. Nonetheless, waiting tables paid the rent and most of the bills, and I refused to lose hope that someday a successful audition or call-back would come my way and change the course of my future.

You were alone. I remember that you jiggled your foot impatiently under the table while you waited. I always hated it when customers did that. However, that day you seemed perfect, unflawed, and altogether out of my reach. Here I was, a struggling actress, if I even merited the title without a single role yet on my résumé, and you, you were a vision, with your powerful build and piercing blue eyes.

Those eyes distracted me. How embarrassed I was when you had to remind me twice for an ice water refill! Yet, it was impossible to avoid your gaze, even when I knew that my face must have blushed the color of ripe tomatoes.

When you had finished your meal, I remember that I longed to reach out to you, just to ask you a question or start a conversation. Unfortunately, though, the shyness that had crippled my personal life (and perhaps my professional one as well) prevented me from even wishing you a nice afternoon.

As good fortune would have it, not fifteen minutes had passed before I realized that perhaps fate was turning in my favor. You had left your Blackberry on the patio table. Innocent though my intentions were, I could not help but look through the pictures stored on your phone. Judging by your pictures, you seemed to be involved in at least half a dozen affairs with beautiful blondes, scantily clad, all sporting winning smiles. I thought to myself that I, too, would grin with glee to be an accessory to such a handsome arm.

What was a bashful brunette of a waitress to do in a situation such as this? The thought alone of those icy blue eyes sent shivers down my spine. I could not let this opportunity go. After all, love at first sight never happens twice in Broadway shows. Surely, real life could not be more forgiving. My boat had finally arrived at the dock, and my temptation led me aboard.

Thus was how you came to reacquire your cell phone. All I acquired was nine months of embarrassment, a small mouth to feed, and one blissful night of passion. Well, that’s show business.

About the Author

Malea Grubb

Though a proud native of Texas, Malea Grubb has traveled throughout the United States and Europe as a professional ballet dancer. Upon her high school graduation in 2007, Malea relocated to Vienna, Austria to dance with the Vienna State Opera Ballet School, one of the most prestigious ballet training academies in the world. She currently resides in Raleigh, NC, where she dances with the Carolina Ballet. Known fondly as the ballet company bookworm, Malea is a voracious reader who has been known to devour several books a day. Her favorite pastimes include spending time with friends and family, watching classic films, and playing with her Chihuahua puppy.