Thrown Together

Molly tapped her pen to her lips, lost in thought, Biz Markie playing through her earphones as she surveyed the dog park. Since she didn't have a puppy of her own, she liked coming here when she could. And considering it was just around the corner from the restaurant, it was a convenient escape during the afternoon lulls.

A cute white lab mix of some kind trotted over and laid its head in her lap. "Friendly guy, aren't you?" she purred as she removed her headphones. Molly scratched the puppy behind its ears, its mouth widening into a satisfied doggy smile.

"Woodstock, no!"

"Really, it's fine," she cooed while giving the animal an indulgent smile. "He's quite sweet, actually." A shadow fell over her. Molly looked up to the dog's owner and her stomach flipped. She couldn't help but laugh. "Really, Tom, I should stop being surprised to see you at this point. Would you like to sit?"

"Um, sure." Molly moved her things off the bench, patting the seat next to her once it was clear. "So where's your dog?" he asked as he sat with a sigh.

She paused to pat Woodstock some more before replying, watching as he curled up at her feet in contentment. "I don't really ... have one." The look on his face made her chuckle. "I mean, I'm so busy with the restaurant and all, I just don't feel like I would be able to care for one properly."

"Speaking of which, I've eaten there a few times now."

"Oh yeah?"

"It's fucking brilliant."

"Mmm," she mumbled, taking pen to paper as an idea struck her, Tom staying quiet beside her. It seemed that he didn't need to fill the silence with mindless chatter, something she was quite appreciative of. Molly took a sip of her coffee, sneaking a glance at her companion as she did. Something fluttered in her stomach.

"So how did you come up with the name Rogue?"

"Honestly, I wanted to name it Pirogue, but I couldn't get my backers on board. So I shortened it to Rogue and finally got their approval."

"And what exactly is a pirogue?" The word was awkward on his British tongue. It was kind of cute.

"It's a Cajun boat. They still use them in Louisiana to navigate swamps and marshes. Well, sometimes."

"Is that where you're from?"

Molly nodded. "Born and raised."

"What brought you to LA?"

"The band. We shared a shitty little two bedroom for a year or two while we tried to 'make it.'"

"So how did you get into food?"

"When I realized that I was having more fun feeding the band than singing with them." Molly chuckled at the memories of 3am cooking sessions and their 'dinner parties,' which were more like free-for-alls and less like the civilized scene one thinks of with the words dinner party. "What about you? How did you find yourself in LA?"

"Work."

"That's all you're going to give me?"

Tom laughed, shaking his head. "I don't want you judging me. It's cliché."

"More cliché than moving here to make it in music?"

"I'm an actor."

Well that explained the good looks, Molly thought. "And where do you wait tables?"

"Ha, ha." His voice was serious, making her feel bad for her terrible joke.

"I couldn't resist, I'm sorry." Tom nodded in acknowledgement, leaning over to pet Woodstock as he lounged at their feet. "Seriously, I'm an asshole."

"No, definitely not."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, Molly scribbling her notebook. Her phone signaled an incoming text. "Sorry, I need to get back," she apologized, mentally cursing her sous chef Tanner for not being able to handle the situation that had apparently arisen.

"You ever think we should meet on purpose, sometime?" His question was quiet, almost shy.

A million times, yes. Molly chided herself silently at the thought. Her life was exactly where she wanted it to be. A man would only complicate things. "Probably not the best idea. I barely have time for the friendships I do have, much less ... something else."

"How about another friendship, then?"

This was going in a bad direction, and fast. But she couldn't stop herself from saying "maybe" before writing her number on a scrap piece of paper in her notebook and handing it to Tom. "No promises on time, though."

His responding smile was brilliant. "No promises necessary."