Part VIII:
It didn’t take long for Jiggle to realize that his prayers were answered. This was of course before the modern smartphone era, although the majority of New Yorkers had been carrying flip phones for several years. After deliberately staring at Jiggle while he poured the second glass of whiskey, Lesley grabbed the glass and wheeled around towards the center of the room. Spotting an empty seat at one of the tables, she walked over and plopped herself down.
As Jiggle came to realize, underneath the first, now empty, glass, Lesley had placed a small slip of paper. At first, he thought is was only a small piece of a bar napkin and nearly tossed it in the garbage can, to be lost forever. Almost haphazardly, his eyes were drawn to the small lip imprint located below the text, “Call me at 212-555-1212.”
The youthful feeling that overcame Jiggle threw him for quite a loop. It was like he was back in grade school passing notes with Missy Perkins, his first crush. He neatly folded the slip of paper and placed it in his shirt pocket. He could feel the blood coursing through his veins, rushing emphatically toward his cheeks, where it pooled and began to nearly glow.
To be continued…
