I was was done with the delivery, about to leave, just had to get a signature. The guy was sitting by the pool with some people.
“Hey, why don’t you stick around,” he said, “There is going to be a party later on. People aren’t coming in yet.”
“Oh yeah?” I said.
“Yeah, you should stick around. I think it’s your kind of scene. I think you’d like what some of these people have to say. You an actor?”
“Me? No, I’m just a delivery guy.”
“I know that, but is that all you are? No offense.”
“I’m not an actor.”
“There’s gonna be all kinds of people,” he said.
“What kinds of people are there?” I asked.
“Producers,” he said, “Actors, artitsts, painters, photographers, real estate people.”
“Japanese businessmen,” a girl chimed in, “hookers, homemakers, junkies, plumbers, drug dealers, elves, gnomes, Klingons.”
“That’s enough, Cherry,” said the guy, “Why don’t you get yourself another drink?”
“I should really get going,” I said.
“Hey, there’s this guy gonna be here, his name’s Vince. He’s an art dealer. His girlfriend is like twelve. And I mean literally. Well, maybe she’s fourteen. And she’s already a coke fiend.”
“I better be going.”
“Hey man. Hey, delivery man,” he shouted when I was already by the door, ready to make my way through the house, “You shouldn’t be missing opportunities like this.”
Not the kind of opportunity I am looking for, I said to myself as I got behind the wheel.