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"Lucky bounce," she said.
"You don't get the bounce if you're not real close," he held his finger and thumb a half inch apart. "Hey, are we near Tommy's?"
"Yeah," T pointed. "It's a few blocks that way."
He would have preferred staying in, enjoying the warmth of her bed and body, but this was a great day. Joe enjoyed Tina being his personal tour guide. She loved her city and got excited telling Joe facts about the park system, and her urban developer hero, Robert Moses.
They walked blocks, and blocks, through more tiny parks, and into Rock and Soul Records to browse. Joe bought the new Robert Gordon rockabilly album. At Bryant Park, they shared a snack from a street vendor, a huge sugary pretzel. Tina handed Joe the nub.
"What the fuck?" he said, holding the last inch of pretzel. "You ate the whole thing."
"I did not."
"I had one corner, and now this." He held up the nub.
"Right," she smiled. "I didn't eat the whole thing."
It didn't matter what they were doing as long as he was doing it with her. After a long day linking her favorite spots, they took a short subway hop back to The West Village where they stopped at a market for groceries. Joe planned on cooking dinner and spending his last night at home. In the market, picking meat and produce, Joe imagined this as his future; with this woman, in this city, with this lifestyle.
Back a 3C, with no bandmates in sight, T watched Joe work in the kitchen thinly shaving fresh garlic. A pair of strip steaks sat on the cutting board. He reached under her sink, way in the back, and pulled out a cast iron skillet.
"Where did you get that?"
"I bought it at that second-hand shop. I just reseasoned it yesterday when you were at orientation."
"That's why the apartment smelled when I got home."
"My dad grills at home. We can't do that, but Pops taught me this; cast iron, butter, and garlic, very simple."
Joe sliced potatoes and onions to make a small casserole and had green beans in her steamer ready to go.
After they enjoyed their steak dinner, Joe was quite pleased with himself. He had impressed T with another home-cooked meal, the fourth he had prepared for her. She offered to do the dishes.
"I'll clean the cast iron," he said. "No soap can ever touch that pan."
"Okay. I'll leave that on the stove. I can't decide which dinner is best. Your meatballs were excellent, and I really liked the roasted chicken, but these steaks may have been number one."
"You didn't like the sausage and roasted veggies?"
"That was good, but not a contender."
"There's no need to choose if they're all good."
Tina hugged him, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. "Let me tidy up here and then change into my pajamas."
"Why bother? They're not staying on for long."
She moved a shopping bag she had set on a table by her phone. The light on her answering machine was flashing. They had missed it because it was obscured by the bag.
"Oh, I have messages."
Beep. "Tina, Joe... it's Tommy. Call the bar. Simon's in the hospital."
