Chapter 5 I Don't Need Bars

• Pyotr
• About an hour ago I got a call from Willian McAdams, a writer we had been trying to contact for an interview for some time. He had the afternoon off and would agree to meet with me to define some terms of the interview and dissemination of his new Novel.
• That left me with a little over fifty minutes to meet him at the restaurant he indicated.
• I looked for Mary and I couldn't find her.
• Shouldn't she be back from lunch by now?
• That's when I remembered that lunch would be with her parents. I had forgotten about it, and she could spend the rest of the day away.
• Well, he told me to treat you like an ordinary employee, didn't he?
• I picked up my phone while I was typing a message for Mary, hoping she'd respond. I went down to the garage and I was about to call her when she called me.
• "Where are you? "I asked when answering
• "I'm sorry, my mother came and was in a hurry," Marianne shot to say, "I forgot to tell you I was leaving.
• "It doesn't matter, where are you? "I got in the car, getting ready to leave.
• "Now? At Le Bernie.”
• "I'll pick you up in ten minutes. Wait for me at the Entree” I muttered by turning off next.
• Luckily she's close.
• I drove as fast as I could to the restaurant, meeting the young lady as agreed waiting for me at the entrance. She did not hesitate to board the car as soon as I stopped.
• "Where are we going, Peter? "Mary questioned as soon as she got in the car.
• "Willian McAdams called," I threw a quick glance at him with the corner of his eyes, "we're going to find him."
• "Really?" she returned excitedly.
• Marianne had been trying to set up this meeting for some time.
• "Yes," I smiled as I noticed the glow in his gaze.
• We arrived at the restaurant a few minutes before the man. It took us about two hours to sort out everything we needed before we closed that meeting. As soon as we left the restaurant, Mary was elated.
• "We finally got rid of that Asshole, Peter," she celebrated as we got in the car.
• "Do not offend the author” I rebuked her, though I find grace of her animation.
• "You cannot deny that he is Asshole. We have to celebrate” She ignored my rebuke “Let's go to a bar.”
• "No bars, Marianne” I denied, going to the company, before I remembered the conversation before with Omar Navruz “but if you want, I can leave you at home.”
• "Come on Peter," she pleaded, "A drink, it's on me. And call me Mary.”
• "I'm going to drop you at home, Marianne ," I changed my direction, heading to the Upper East Side “You just need to tell me your address.”
• "You're as unbearable as McAdams, Rozanov," she complained, crossing her arms making me laugh, "You can go back to the publisher. I'll take Halley to celebrate with me.”
• "Are you sure? "I questioned feeling curiosity burn in me to know how she intended to celebrate that little conquest.
• "Since you don't want to celebrate, I drink with Halley," she muttered, "Come on, Pietro.”
• "Come on, this is not even Russian” I offered her a half smile, taking the pleasure of watching her struggle to hold on to the laugh and stay serious.
• I drove to the publishing Company, Mary gave up inviting me to her celebration. We climbed silently to our floor, I left her at the reception talking to her friend as I headed to my office.
• I opened my e-mail one last time before I went home, finding there the notice of a meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Navruz in the morning.
• That information surprised me. I wonder what happened.
• I picked up the envelope Mary had separated this morning, deciding to work on it at home. she was still talking to Miss Dawson.
• "Hey Peter, are you sure you don't want to join us?” my assistant smiled leaning against the receptionist's desk “last chance.”
• "Have fun, Mary," I said goodbye while waiting for the elevator, though I felt a small wave of regret strike me “Until tomorrow, Miss Dawson.”
• Maybe I should have a little more fun.
• "Until tomorrow Mr. Rozanov" she smiled as I entered the elevator.
• I went to my apartment in Greenwich Village. That was a good place to live, and despite being a little far from my job, I had everything I needed at an accessible distance. I parked in my spot in the building and climbed up to the fifth floor, already listening to libby's little fingernails scratch on the floor of my living room.
• I opened the door, being greeted with the small Welsh Corgi of caramel colors, barking and jumping on my legs until I held her in my lap. She hated spending the day alone, and I felt guilty about leaving her there, but I really had no other solution.
• Libby originally belonged to an ex-girlfriend from the time of college. She ended up staying with me when we broke up our relationship and Chloe moved to Argentina. At first I was a little lost, the dog didn't even seem to like me, but over time we got our routine.
• I carried her to the bowl of food crouching me to fill it, watching Libby eat for a while. I stroked her head while she ate before I got up. Maybe I should take a walk with her before anything else.
• Yes.
• That sounds like a good plan. She distracts me enough, I don't need to spend nights in bars to have fun.