“Why are you out here?” she says. “Please don’t tell me I missed the taping!”

I introduce Bruce to Trudy. Then explain, “The TV host wasn’t expecting a guest. He needed an hour to do some research on me before the taping. Have you eaten anything yet?”

“Not really.”

I point to the restaurant across the street. “How about that one?”

We enter, get seated, place our order (coffee for Bruce and me, iced tea for Trudy, who suddenly appears unhappy).

When Bruce excuses himself to use the bathroom, I ask what’s wrong.

“I didn’t want to say this in front of Mr. Luce, but I think you should make an effort to be friendlier to people.”

“Which people?”

“All people, Gideon. Starting with our waitress. You were very rude just now.”

“What are you talking about? She asked for my drink order, and I gave it.”

“What’s her name?”

“Who, our waitress? How the hell should I know? More importantly, why would I care?”

“Because I used to be a waitress, Gideon, and she’s a person. She wants to be liked and appreciated.”

“I came here to eat. Not make friends.”

Trudy frowns. “Every encounter’s an opportunity to make a new friend.”

“Where’d you get that advice? From a fortune cookie?”

She gives me a warning look. “Treat me sweet, Gideon.”

“Okay. Sorry. But can I point out she didn’t ask me what my name was?”

“That would have been rude. But she started to tell you hers, and you cut her off.”

I sigh. It’ll take time to indoctrinate small-town Trudy into the Manhattan lifestyle. In the meantime I’d like to develop an intimate relationship with her pussy, so I say, “You’re right. I was rude. How should I have handled it?”

She smiles. “I always try to pick out something nice about a person. Like her hair, or nails; or maybe even her smile. Something I’m sincere about. Then I give her a compliment.”

“I can do that.”

“Good boy. Here she comes. Watch what I do; then you try it.”

“Okay.”

The waitress sets a small tray on the stand next to our table, removes our drinks, places them in front of us.

Trudy says, “I meant to tell you earlier, my name’s Trudy, and I just love your nails!”

“Why, thank you, Trudy! I’m Irma.”

“Nice to meet you, Irma!”

Trudy flashes a friendly smile and nods at me to indicate it’s my turn.

I say, “Hi Irma. I’m Dr. Box.”

Trudy nudges me lightly with her foot under the table, so I add, “But please, call me Gideon.”

“Hi Gideon,” Irma says.