I stopped at the maitre d’ station. I wasn’t the only one dining alone.
Janelle was there. Rather, she wasn’t so much eating as drinking at the nearby bar, her seat positioned just right so she could keep an eye on Chelsea and Mr. Ronson. I hadn’t heard how her date had gone with Chelsea, but apparently my recommended strategy of making one of the suitors jealous worked, only in reverse. Mr. Ronson was the cool, collected one while Janelle obviously now stewed in her own juices. A well dressed, handsome stud offered to buy Janelle a drink and she told him to get lost, in no uncertain terms, and returned to her surveillance.
She must have followed us here, like a beautiful tigress on the prowl. But she hadn’t thought of me. I quietly slipped onto the barstool next to Janelle.
“They seem
