LITMIR.BIZ

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a man on a mission. He would drop off the groceries at his place and then catch a cab to the Upper East Side. He wanted Thai and he wanted it in a restaurant, and he wanted to get there by cab.

      Four days of doing squat also turned out to be just enough time to drive home the fact that he hadn’t had sex in months. A new and very uncomfortable record.

      A survey of his contacts had showed him how tragically out of the loop he was. He’d started with Bev, his most reliable friend with benefits. She’d informed him that she was engaged and pointed out that if he’d ever once called her back or checked her Facebook or in any way remembered she was alive, he’d have known that.

      The phone calls had gone downhill from there.

      It disappointed him in a way that was new. He’d lost friends before. No one got to thirty and didn’t, but he’d never let relationships die without meaning to. Some of these people he’d known since college. It was naive of him to think he could pick up right where he’d left off.

      A cab pulled over and Max got in and gave the driver the address. After they merged into traffic, his cell phone rang, raising his hopes that one of his ex-friends had forgiven him. Then he saw the unfamiliar name on his caller ID. “Hello?”

      “Max?”

      “Yes.”

      “I’m Natalie. From the trading-card group.”

      Jesus. How had he forgotten the trading-card thing? His cousin Paula had pitched him the idea over a month ago, and he hadn’t wasted a second signing on the dotted line. Thank God. “Right. Okay, hi, Natalie.”

      “You do know what I’m talking about, right?”

      “Yes, of course.”

      “Good.” She sounded nervous. “Because I picked your card.”

      “I’m flattered you chose me.”

      “Well, who wouldn’t?”

      Max laughed. “Lots of people.”

      “I can’t imagine...” She cleared her throat. “I don’t have much time because I’m in between appointments, but I thought I’d call you now because...well, because if I waited any longer I’d probably chicken out.”

      “You’re doing great so far.” Interesting that she’d told the truth. Equally interesting was the smile that had been on his face from the moment she introduced herself. Although that could be a result of having spent over an hour hearing that he was a persona non grata.

      “A woman my age shouldn’t have this much trouble asking for a date, though I’m new at this trading-card thing,” she said, “but, anyway, I was thinking about dinner.”

      “Tonight?”

      “No. Tomorrow night. If you want. Because tonight I have a class thing.”

      “Ah. Okay, tomorrow night would be great.”

      “Oh,” she said, as if she’d expected him to object. “Where would you like to go?”

      “Tell you what. You choose and I’ll meet you there. Wherever you’d like, anywhere in the city.”

      “Seriously?” Her voice rose half an octave.

      “Yes.”

      “What if I said Masa?”

      He laughed. “That might be a problem.” Max let that hang for a second before adding, “Getting a reservation there on a Friday night is difficult.”

      She chuckled, low and slightly breathy. “You’re quick,” she said. “I like it.”

      “I’m definitely intrigued. I’m also tempted to ask you some questions, but I think I’d rather wait until dinner. Keep the mystery going a little longer.”

      “Oh, good. No pressure at all.”

      “I hope not. It seems like an excellent way to meet. My expectation is to have a nice meal with pleasant conversation. If anything more happens, that’s a bonus.”

      “I can work with that,” she said. “How about seven o’clock at Lviv? That’s in the Bowery, if that’s all right?”

      He’d heard of it, but never been. He lived near several eastern European restaurants, although they weren’t very high on his list. “Sounds great. You’ll have to find me, because I have no idea what you look like.”

      “And that doesn’t make you nervous?”

      “Nope. Excited.”

      “You’re very brave.”

      “Only sometimes. Tell me, what really made you pick my card?”

      She didn’t say anything for a moment, and then it all came out in a rush. “I liked what you had to say. What you’re looking for. But I really have to go now, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

      “I look forward to it.”

      “Aside from being scared out of my wits, me, too,” she said. Then she was gone.

      Who was this woman? He could tell she was shy, which was appealingly uncommon for the girls he dated. He’d never actually been on a blind date, which this essentially was. Not once. He’d only lied a little bit when he told her his expectations. Especially given her last, rushed explanation for choosing him, he fully expected to end the evening back at her place. Hell, even if they didn’t particularly click, it was only for one night. Whoever had thought up the trading-card idea deserved a Nobel Prize. Prevetted men with all their cards on the table, pun most definitely intended. Natalie would be the first of many, he assumed, a veritable feast of women who also wanted no-strings-attached one-night stands.

      He settled back in the taxi, feeling a hell of a lot better than when he’d left his loft.

      * * *

      “WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

      Fred gave Natalie a long, slow assessment from the ground up. “You can do better.”

      Her mouth dropped open as she stared at herself in her full-length mirror. “What’s wrong with it?”

      “Nothing’s wrong. I just prefer your red dress.”

      “Why?” She knew it sounded as if she didn’t trust him. He was never anything less than completely honest with her, even when a white lie wouldn’t have hurt anyone.

      “It makes your boobs look bigger.”

      Turning all the way to face him, she gave him her WTF stare. “This date isn’t about my boobs. We’re getting to know each other. That’s all.”

      “It’s always about boobs. Look, if you want better advice, I suggest you find someone who cares more about fashion. I have work to do. Aside from the boob issue, you look gorgeous. Like always. But if you want to make him swoon, go with the red dress and your black heels. And don’t forget to put on the lip gloss, not just the lipstick.” He shook his head. “We’ve been living in the same house too long. Why do I even know what lip gloss does for you? Where’s Denise? I thought she was going to bring wine and you two were going to giggle and speculate until it was time for your date.”

      “She’s at her cousin’s bridal shower. In California. On vacation. And we don’t giggle.”

      “I was being polite. Your friend sounds like an asthmatic horse when she laughs.”

      “She does not.”

      He sighed. “She doesn’t in the same way that it’s not about boobs.” He stopped at Natalie’s bedroom door. “Now have fun. If nothing else, at least you don’t have to go to Oliver’s mother’s Shabbat dinner.”

      “She makes a great brisket.”

      He nodded. “That she does. But not good enough for you to stay with that schlub.”

      “Get

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