About the Author: Edward Palumbo is a graduate of the University of Rhode Island (1982). His fiction, poems, shorts, and journalism have appeared in numerous periodicals, journals, e-journals and anthologies including Rough Places Plain, Flush Fiction, Tertulia Magazine, Epiphany, The Poet’s Page, Reader’s Digest, Baseball Bard and Dark Matter. Ed is a prize-winning poet and playwright. Ed’s literary credo is: if you fall off the horse, get right back on the bicycle.
On the Way to Dinner
Early Evening
Andrea waited while I visited the cash machine. I took out one hundred dollars, hoping that she wasn’t all that hungry. Andrea was a good eater, really good—she was a plus-sized young lady, if you will, better than a minus-sized young lady, you can lose one of those in your shirt pocket. We drove in silence. Andrea asked if she could turn on the radio. I shook my head, my car, my rules. I saw the sign off Hamilton Street, The Generally Contented Moose Steakhouse, our destination, the best ribs this side of The Rockies and I don’t worry about what’s on the other side of The Rockies.
“What’s the plan?” Andrea asked.
“You cozy up to the waiter, find out whatever you can.”
“What if it’s a waitress this, time?”
“Then you cozy up to her. Use your charm. The charm you used to land me.”
“Right, like you were a challenge,” she replied, “you practically begged me to go out with you. You are a good beggar.”
“I learned it from my dog.”