Chapter 16 #2
As we continue to walk, I play what just happened in my mind over and over again as if on film.
It was no more than two people sharing a doughnut.
Two friends sharing a doughnut. Friends who have taken years to get to this point and are not going to fuck it up again…
especially when one friend is in a relationship, or a situationship, or whatever it is when someone tells you to come over because they’re soaked.
“Hey, are you hungry?” Adam asks. It’s a funny question considering we just ate a doughnut.
“You know what…” I look at my phone and see it’s just past noon. “Starving.”
We end up at this brunch spot in Williamsburg that I’ve never been to before.
On the outside it looks like a hole-in-the-wall, but there’s a line that would say quite the opposite.
Based on the crowd of people, it’ll probably take a while before I have something in my stomach.
I’m hungry enough that I debate asking Adam if we should just grab bagels instead.
But he doesn’t get in line. Instead, he waits by the front door and pulls out his phone to text someone.
“I’m starving,” he says, looking atme.
“Yeah, same—should we get in line?” I ask, but then I see a familiar face inside walking toward us. “Wait, is that—”
“Hey, man!” The guy approaching gives Adam a big hug and a hearty pat on the back.
“Hey, you remember June?” Adam gestures towardme.
“Hey, Robby.” I smile, taking in his arms and hands, which are now almost completely covered with tattoos, and his mustache—which not a lot of people can pull off, but it is working for him.
“No fucking way,” he says, then steps back for a second and looks at Adam wide-eyed. “June, how are you?!” He pulls me in for a hug.
“I can’t complain.” I laugh. It’s really nice to see Robby again. “How are you ?!”
“Oh, you know, hanging in there.” He laughs, looking at the line behind us.
“But, okay, let’s get you two a table.” He walks over to the hostess stand and steps behind it.
For a few seconds, he and the woman, who’s wearing red overalls and a striped blue knit top underneath, are pointing at the seating charts.
She gives him a nod and he grabs two menus.
“Follow me,” he says, and he guides us inside.
It’s absolutely packed. The walls are a forest green shiplap and the food is served on mismatched china.
Similar to Alden, but there’s something more raw and messy about this place, in the best way possible.
There are old boxing-match posters on top of your grandma’s favorite flowered wallpaper and four or five different chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.
“Here you go.” He guides us to a corner table.
“Thanks, man,” Adam says, and Robby gives him another pat on the back.
“I’ll be back,” he says, giving us a wink, and then heads to the kitchen.
I wait until Robby is out of sight before I kick Adam under the table. “Um, is this his restaurant?”
“He and two other guys opened it last year.”
“I’m obsessed with the vibe.” I look around.
“It’s great. He has his dad’s apple pie recipe on here too—it’s delicious. And he still gets to cook and be in the nitty-gritty of it all, you know?”
“Why Alden?” I ask. The Adam I know would thrive in this environment. He never even wanted to eat at a Michelin-star restaurant, let alone own one. “Why not a place like this?”
“I don’t know,” he says, and frowns like nobody’s ever asked him this before. “One thing kind of led to another…I’m grateful, but if I could go back, maybe I’d do things differently.”
“I can’t believe you have your own restaurant, Adam.” I look at him sincerely. “ You did it .”
He gives me a weak smile and then leans back. “I’m not the one who’s a big film and TV star.”
“I’m not either,” I say, rolling my eyes. The idea of Adam following my career all these years makes me a little self-conscious.
“You were in a Brad Pitt movie,” he says.
“I had one line and he wasn’t even in the scene,” I say with a laugh.
“Still.” He shrugs. “It’s pretty awesome.”
But it doesn’t feel awesome. When you’re working in Hollywood, it never feels like booking a role is enough.
People are working toward status, how many followers they have, how big a name they can be.
Since leaving New York, the biggest acting role I’ve had is pretending that I’m happy with the choices I’ve made.
“Okay.” Robby comes up to our table rubbing his hands. “What can I get you two?”
“I’ll have the Mediterranean bowl.” Adam hands his menu to Robby.
“And I’ll have the short rib beef burger, please,” I say wide-eyed and hand my menu over.
“Make that burger good,” Adam warns.
“Yes, sir.” Robby playfully salutes him.
“And fuck it,” Adam says. “Add on the baklava banana bread too.”
“I got you,” Robby says, nodding. “So how are things? I’ve got to plan a basketball night or something.”
“Same old,” Adam says, and I sit straighter, enjoying this back-and-forth.
“Alden is no joke. Are you still opening another location?”
Adam looks at me for a second and rubs the side of his face. “Yeah, we’re talking about it.”
“Man.” Robby shakes his head and looks at me. “Can you believe this guy? He doesn’t stop.”
“I don’t have a line of people waiting around Alden right now,” Adam says.
“Yeah, that’s because your reservations are booked until January.”
“You’re only doing this to yourself by not accepting reservations.” Adam gestures to the people standing outside the window.
“It adds to the appeal.” Robby laughs. “All right—well, let me ring this in.” He taps the table twice before disappearing.
“Baklava banana bread?” I raise an eyebrow at Adam.
“Don’t tell me you’re on some LA diet.”
“Oh, hell no.” I scrunch my face. “I was going to say, if you’re lucky, I’ll let you have a piece.”
He nudges my foot under the table, and for a good ten seconds, I don’t move and neither doeshe.
I’m absolutely stuffed after brunch, and it’s at times like this that I’m thankful New York allows me to get my stepsin.
“That was amazing,” I say as we walk back through the streets of Brooklyn.
“Where to next?” Adam says.
I’m not ready to go back to the house. Ahead of me is a man pushing a baby stroller while simultaneously walking his dog.
There’s a woman wearing running shoes with her polished pantsuit, and two older men playing chess by a park with steaming cups of coffee at their side.
I’ve missed this, and as cliché as it sounds, I want to do all the things New York has to offer.
“When’s the last time you’ve been to Central Park?” I ask, and turn to him.
“For fun?” Adam raises an eyebrow. “You know, I can’t say when.”
“Would you want to go?” I ask in my most enticing voice.
“An autumn walk in Central Park,” Adam says. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a tourist,” he says, walking toward the subway.
“And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re taking New York for granted.” I hurry to keep up with him.