Nocturnal by Nathan Field Page A

this is the famous Sam Carney.”
    When Maxine stood up and offered her hand in greeting, I suddenly realized how out of practice I was. Staring down at her naked fingers, I wasn’t sure if I should shake her hand or kiss it. Both gestures seemed inappropriate – one too business-like, the other overly familiar. I eventually decided on the handshake, which must’ve been the right choice because the table let out a collective sigh of relief.
    I was seated on Maxine’s right – presumably so she wouldn’t have to look at my scars through dinner – and after everyone had commented on the great choice of restaurant and the enduring popularity of Chinatown and the mild weather, the spotlight turned on me.
    “So Sam, I hear you’re a writer,” Maxine said in a velvety purr. She dressed and sounded much older than she looked, and I felt strangely juvenile in her presence.
    “I’m more of an editor than a writer. I edit screenplays, write jokes for stand-ups, that sort of thing.”
    “Sam’s the best gag-man in San Francisco,” Bruno said.
    “He’s written all of Bruno’s best material,” Chloe chipped in. “I know it’s hard to believe, but Sam’s a comic genius.”
    My eyes narrowed. “Why’s that so hard to believe?”
    Chloe’s mouth dropped. A flush crept up her throat, like a pair of clawing hands. “Sam, it was just a turn of phrase,” she said. “I was trying to say how funny you are, even though you always look so serious.”
    And suddenly I felt terrible. Chloe hadn’t meant anything by her comment – she wasn’t a malicious person. She only ever had nice things to say about me.
    The table had fallen silent, everyone sharing in the embarrassment. “Jesus Chloe, I was only playing with you,” I said, forcing a hollow laugh. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
    “Don’t do that to me,” Chloe scolded, bringing her hands to her cheeks. “You’ve turned me bright red.”
    “That’s Sam, always kidding around,” Bruno laughed, reaching for the wine. He gave me a sharp look as he refreshed the girls’ glasses. He could tell I was out of sorts.
    Despite the uncomfortable start, dinner wasn’t the teeth-pulling exercise I’d been dreading. The food was delicious, the service faultless, and Maxine turned out to be pretty decent company, all things considered. For a marketing executive at Oracle, a job she thankfully didn’t describe in detail, she seemed remarkably down to earth. It helped that we were into a lot of the same things: the Giants, Japanese food and Louis C.K. to name but a few. She was even intrigued by the whole comedy writing process, and judging by her knowledge of the local stand-up scene, I sensed her interest was genuine.
    Bruno and Chloe participated less in our conversation as the dinner progressed, talking softly amongst themselves. I could almost hear Chloe humming with pleasure over how smoothly the double date was going.
    It wasn’t until after our plates were cleared that the evening turned sour. As we waited for our fortune cookies, I became aware of drunken laughter coming from over my shoulder. I turned around to find a pair of businessmen staring at me from a booth table. I suspected they’d been looking at me and laughing for some time. One of them immediately averted his eyes, sniggering with embarrassment, but the other businessman was unrepentant, insisting on his right to stare. He had a short neck and bullish shoulders. The sort of guy who chugged protein shakes and measured his biceps.
    I looked away first. The silent exchange had only taken a second, and nobody at my table even noticed my head was turned. But when I tried to rejoin the light conversation, my attention kept diverting to the two men behind me. They were carrying on like overgrown frat boys, and I was certain the jokes were at my expense.
    When Bruno got up to visit the bathroom, one of the businessmen started singing. It sounded like a cheesy show tune. When I recognized the chorus, I