"Just a glass of Merlot, please." "Always been a Bud man myself." "Yeah?" "Yeah." "I'm not really a beer fan." "Well, I guess not everyone has to be. You don't even have a cold one at the game?" "Game?" "Yeah. Y'know, baseball?" "Uh, no. M'a basketball fan, myself." "Huh. Okay. Never really got into basketball, but I guess that's alright. Played shortstop in college." "Cool." "So, um, besides basketball, what else do you like?" "I, um, like...going to the movies." "Yeah? Me too. What kind?" "Thrillers. You?" "Sci-fi. Gimme a good, old-fashioned alien flick any day. Must've seen "Them" about a million times. I could quote it front to back." "That's…um. Wow." "Don't worry. I wasn't planning on doing it." "Okay." "So, what's your favorite movie?" "Vertigo." "Hitchcock, right?" "Yep." "Never got into him." "Not everyone does." "True. So...uh, guess movies are out. What about books?" "Like, what, the last book I read?" "Yeah." "Drop Shot." "Wow. Harlan Coben." "Yeah. You've heard of him?" "He's, like, my favorite author." "Me, too." "Yeah? Very cool. Want another glass?" "Alright, sure. Why not?" * * * "Mom, Mom...stop shrieking. Mom. Please...?" "I can't help it, honey. I'm so excited for you." "Why're you excited? The date was a total disaster." "Oh, stop. You said he bought dinner, right?" "Yeah, he did...Mom, stop moving. You're breaking up." "Sorry. Just needed to try on these flats. Now, where were we?" "He bought dinner." "Right. Which is good. And he asked for your number?" "Yeah. But I'm sure he was just being polite." "Nonsense. You're my daughter. Of course you made a wonderful impression." "Doesn't matter. I have nothing in common with him." "That's not true. You said you both had a love of mysteries in common." "Great, Mom. What're we gonna do, read to each other?" "Now you're just being difficult." "No, I'm being realistic." "Your realism isn't going to help you find a man." "Well, at least I'll always have Harlan." "Who's that, dear?" "Never mind, Mom. Never mind."
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