The Weekday One Hundred

The calls went to voice mail. The texts, unanswered. Unfortunately, not an infrequent occurrence.

Sheila sipped her chilled martini and scanned the downtown hotspot. With a hip and young crowd jockeying for position around the bar, she just knew the hostess had already given away their reservation.

Another missed experience because of her best friend’s tardiness. She had promised, too.

Suddenly, her phone. The call was both short and humiliating. Shiela downed her drink and slid from the stool.

Not only the wrong place, but also the wrong date.

And now her best friend would never let her forget it.