Seventh and Liberty

Justin sighed in frustration when the light turned red while he was still at least six cars back from the intersection. He groaned in frustration when his cell phone rang, again. Taking what he hoped was a calming breath, he flipped it open. “Hey.”

“Where are you?” Brian asked in lieu of a greeting.

Justin felt like saying “The Bermuda Triangle,” but he gave a more truthful answer. “Seventh and Liberty.”

“That’s where you were twenty minutes ago. If you needed you dick sucked before dinner, I would have been happy to oblige.”

“I’m not getting my dick sucked,” Justin snapped. “The fucking GPS loses signal after this intersection, and by the time it resets, I’ve made a wrong turn. Then it routes me back here, over and over again.”

“Justin, you lived in the Pitts your entire fucking life. Are you telling me that after three years in New York, you need a GPS to get to dinner?”

“I lived in the suburbs and never had a car. If it wasn’t within walking distance of the diner, the loft or Debbie’s, I took the bus. I never even realized Liberty Avenue was so fucking long. There are straight bars on it for fuck’s sake. This isn’t exactly my old stomping ground.” And it wasn’t as if romantic dinners overlooking the rivers from Mt. Washington had never been on either of their agendas, but Justin was irritated not suicidal, so he kept that comment to himself.

“Your old stomping ground!” Brian snorted. “You’re twenty-six not ninety; you don’t have an old stomping ground. Forget the GPS and just get across the bridge. After that you can’t miss it.”

“Which bridge?”

“The yellow one.”

“They’re all fucking yellow.” Justin grounded his teeth together and resisted the urge to throw his phone out the window.

“Whatever,” Brian said dismissively. “Stop being such a drama princess and get your ass over here.”

“Maybe if you gave better directions than ‘Meet me at the new Italian restaurant that’s in the same building as the Greek place where the waiters are all named George and will blow you if you leave a decent tip,’ I would have been there by now. If it wasn’t for Michael and Google, I wouldn’t have made it this far.”

“I would have thought this place was a little pricey for Mikey’s taste.”

“It is,” Justin replied, thinking about the Google description. “But at least he knew what Greek place you were talking about, and could give a starting point. It’s a miracle he remembered it since it closed when you were in college. Which means I was in FUCKING GRADE SCHOOL and a little young to be impressed by cock sucking waiters.”

“Jesus Christ, stop bitching. I made it without any trouble.”

“You took a cab.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Brian said sarcastically. “Find a safe, I repeat safe, place to leave my car and get a cab.”

“Forget it. The light’s green, and I have to be out of wrong turns by now. Go fuck a waiter for old time’s sake, and if I’m not there in an hour just meet me at Seventh and Liberty.”

“You have ten minutes.”

Justin barely heard Brian as he was closing the phone. He pulled through the intersection and gave the GPS an encouraging pat. The fifth time was bound to be the charm.

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