Page 67 of Songs of Summer

Following a boisterous round of applause, she continued:

“If you care to have a song played, check out our song list, write down your choice on your chopstick sheet, and turn it in. If you don’t, by all means we’re good with that too. Our playlist is fabulous, we love Beyoncé and all that, but we do want to play your faves, so write them down. As for booze down here, our magic water keeps you hydrated and is somewhat good for you. We also have beer and wine and champagne.”

“The magic water is sake,” Matt whispered to Maggie.

“I figured—I’m going to serve magic water too! The sushi place next door already has a license for it.”

Justine went on to explain that the four-course tasting menu was set by the chef, before turning things over to him.

“Hello, Tokyo Listening Room, if I can have your attention for one moment, please,” the chef bellowed over A TribeCalled Quest rapping their hit “Buggin’ Out.” It was quite appropriate because Maggie was most definitely bugging out. Matt could see her brain bouncing in ten different directions. She was wide awake now; that was for sure.

The chef placed a small white bowl in front of Matt and another in front of Maggie, while a waiter left the kitchen with a trayful of the same.

“Thank you for joining us to start off the weekend early,” the chef said. “This is a miso clam chowder topped with watercress and sliced thick bacon.”

They each took a sip. It was otherworldly.

Matt grabbed a tiny pencil from its holder and handed it to Maggie. “Write down one song from the list on your paper chopstick holder.”

Maggie perused the selection of songs, sorted by decades.

“Let’s not say what we picked—and then guess when the song comes on?” he suggested.

“Duh.” She smiled, psyched for the challenge.

She finally scribbled something down before folding the paper as many times as possible, as if Matt had X-ray vision. He laughed and took the pencil, writing down his choice. He toyed with putting down his usual, “Rock and Roll” by Led Zeppelin, but went with a not-so-subtle hint of his feelings for her—there were so many songs to choose from in that category. He doubted she would guess it was his, but maybe it would resonate with her all the same.

Justine brought over the first flight of sake and poured it to Madonna’s first hit, “Holiday.” Matt asked for a half pour. Even though it was hours away, he did have to drive back to the beach later.

“This one is fruity and floral, it’s called Southern Beauty, and it’s from Oshu, Japan.”

“Ahh, like Shotime,” Matt interjected, touting the famed young Japanese baseball player who had signed with the Dodgers. He turned, intending to explain his comment to Maggie, who retorted with, “I bet you hoped he’d be a Yankee.”

He looked at her in awe. There was no way this girl could know about both musicandbaseball.

She smiled her beautiful smile at him. “This is amazing,” she said.

You are amazing, he thought.

Salt-N-Pepa started singing “Whatta Man.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Matt joked.

“As if,” Maggie laughed.

The chef served the next course, hamachi sashimi over arugula salad sprinkled with jalapeño, toasted shallots, and crushed black and white sesame seeds. It was paired with a mash-up from DJ Godfather and a delicious dry sake made locally in Sunset Park, Brooklyn.

“I wish I could show you around Brooklyn,” Matt commented.

“Next time,” Maggie said, clearly meaning it. Her words made his heart swell until it hurt, like an ache.

That’s it. He would not fall for this unavailable woman. He toyed with asking for his song choice back. Maybe she would pick a bad song and he’d be turned off. He once broke up with a girl because she picked Toto’s “Africa” for karaoke.

As if on cue, Maggie’s song came on.

He knew it in an instant by its perfection and obscurity.If she had picked “New York State of Mind,” or something equally on the nose, he would have been disappointed. “New York City” from John and Yoko’s 1972 studio album with the Plastic Ono Band blasted from the speakers, and Maggie casually bopped along to the beat, trying to play it cool. As the bridge faded and the last stanza played, she broke.

“This is my song!”

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