I appeared at Madonna's hotel suite promptly at 8pm and rang the buzzer.
The maid that came with the suite opened the door.
"Mr. Freddie," she asked.
"Yes."
"Come in," she said taking a step back while holding the door wide open for my entrance.
"Madam is expecting you and will be with you in a moment. May I offer you a drink?"
"Yes, single malt scotch with just a splash of water."
She reappeared with my drink on a serving tray and disappeared somewhere in the suite. I stood and stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked Commonwealth Avenue, the Public Gardens, the Boston Commons in the distance, and the Esplanade and the Charles River in the opposite direction.
I wondered who Madonna had set me up with and who wanted to meet me. I hoped it wasn't a guy. I'm straight as an arrow. I don't do men.
I didn't have to wait very long to find out. I saw her reflection through the glass and recognized her immediately. It was Geena Davis. Much better looking in person, I've always admired her work and her beauty. She was tall, nearly as tall as me with her heels. Had I not known her age, I never would have thought this woman was over 50. She looked 40.
"Hi," she said flashing me a smile that made me melt, "you must be Freddie. Louise has told me so much about you."
"Louise?"
"Oh, sorry, Madonna. Her real name is Louise Cicconi. No one calls her Madonna, we all call her Lou." There, she gave me that typical Geena Davis laugh. She is the same way in real life as she is in the movies, a bit goofy but I like it in an endearing sort of way.