I never knew that eating a lobster could be so entertaining. It sure seems like that when the guy in front of me has been battling his for the past fifteen minutes. His plate looks like a battlefield and the napkin tucked on his chest is covered in grease. I told him not to go for the lobster, but he insisted; it’s his first time at La Bernadin, and he wanted to try their famous lobster.

“What the mayor has been trying to say is that this is no way to proceed,” I start, and the lobster-warrior, Hatfield, raises his beady eyes from the plate. He places the lobster down and then, sighing, looks from the Mayor to me.

“Look, if the city doesn’t acknowledge the situation the teachers are in right now, we’ll have no option but to go on strike.”

Crap, there he goes again, mentioning that strike. If the teacher’s union hits with a strike right now, and with the elections coming up so soon, we’re going to have some dark times ahead. And if Mayor Anders loses the elections, I might find myself out of a job too.

I look from one end of the table to the other, eyeing each member of the teacher’s union as I try to find the right words. The Mayor, sitting by my side, is looking at me expectantly; there’s bad blood between him and Hatfield, the union’s representative, so I’m his voice in this negotiation.

“Look, the Mayor and I have been devising a plan that will ensure a continued improvement of --”

“HOLY SHIT, HE DID IT!” A loud shout erupts in the room, breaking our quiet conversation like a boulder thrown into a pond. Everyone at our table turns back to see what’s happening, and our attention goes straight to a table at the far end of the dining room.

There, five young guys are clapping and whistling as one of them throws a bottle of wine into the air and catches it behind his back. I can’t make out who these assholes are, but I already hate of them—rich spoiled kids with too much time and money in their hands, that’s who they are.

I’m trying to cut a deal that will prevent New York’s educational system from being paralyzed for weeks, and these guys are really ruining my mojo.

“Mr. Hatfield,” I call the union’s representative, and he turns back to me. Wiping his finger on the napkin, he grabs his glass and takes a sip out of the expensive Pinot Noir the city’s taxpayers are paying. “Look, your concerns are valid, of course, but the legislative changes are --”

“ANOTHER!” One of the young guys bellows, waving an empty bottle of wine at the bartender.

“Jesus, this is unacceptable,” Hatfield shakes his head, looking back at the noisy table. “There’s no way we’ll conduct any business with conditions like these. I can’t believe that a place such as this allows for a crowd like that. That’s the problem with this city, Mayor,” he turns his small eyes to the Mayor, lowering his voice. “Money buys everything, and those on the losing end are left to fend for themselves.”

“Mr. Hatfield,” I start again, trying to divert his focus from the Mayor. He always hated it that the Mayor came from money, and that he had to fight tooth and nail just to become a union representative. And these assholes at the far end of the room are reminding him of all that. “Please, I beg of you that --”

“YOU’RE CRAZY; NO WAY SHE FELL FOR THAT AFRICA DONATION STORY!” Another loud voice says, and the whole table of assholes erupts in laughter. What the hell, do they have to be so loud? Is just a little bit of respect too much to ask?

“You’re insane, Cody!” I hear another voice, this time quieter, but still loud enough for me to hear. My heart feels like it has stopped; is Cody one of the guys at the end of the dining room? I look over Hatfield’s shoulders, and the guy that has his back turned to me seems oddly familiar… And then, when he turns to speak to the waiter, my heart falls at my feet: it really is Cody.

Oh, Christ.

And then everything takes a turn for the worse: Cody sees me, and his face brightens up at once. With a gigantic smile on his face, he gets up from his chair and walks across the dining room with that confident gait of his.

Oh, no, please; just turn around and go back to your seat, Cody.

“What a coincidence, ‘sis,” he says in a loud voice, standing just behind Hatfield. Everyone at the table is looking at me, and the Mayor has a frown on his face. Oh, Cody, I could kill you right now.

“You know this guy?” the Mayor whispers to me, and the tone in his voice doesn’t leave any room as to what he’s truly saying: fix this, Kimberly.

“Of course not!” I find myself saying, and Cody’s smile vanishes from his lips in a heartbeat. There’s confusion in his eyes, but now I can’t stop. There’s a lot at stake here. “Gentleman,” I proclaim, standing up and trying to ignore Cody as I look at Hatfield. “The mayor will pick up the tab, of course, but I think it’s time we change venues. If everyone agrees, we can just leave and keep discussing the new legislation away from… Certain people.”

Oh, I’m so sorry, Cody.

Everyone at my table just starts nodding and whispering their consent. As they start standing up and grabbing their jackets, my eyes meet Cody. He looks hurt, and my heart tightens up so much inside my chest that I can’t even feel it pulse.

“I’m sorry,” he says out loud. “I thought you were someone else. I’m sorry we’ve disturbed your dinner, gentlemen. As an apology, I’ll be the one picking up the tab.”

With that, he turns on his heels without even glancing at me and goes back to his table. I remain standing up, frozen in place as I watch him grab his jacket and leave the restaurant, leaving all his friends looking at one another with a confused look on their faces.

Oh, crap.