Late Night at Lucky's ii

This is the 2nd part of an ongoing series. Click here for the 1st.

“You going to get another beer?” my new found friend, Kevin, asked. He obviously didn’t know who he was dealing with. “Hell yes I’m going to get another beer,” I said as I reached in to my pocket. I love paying for drinks with cash. You pull out a big wad of bills, flick through ‘em, and toss a few on the bar like they mean nothing, like you’re a big shooter and you’re anteing up for another round. Your cards are shit and the stakes high, but you can’t fold, not as long as there’s a chance.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” I told Kevin, “will you order me a PBR?” When I got back there was a cute girl in my seat – real cute – and she was talking to Kevin. If it was anyone else, I would’ve booted their ass out of there, but I couldn’t do that to Kevin. I couldn’t ruin his chances. So I walked over to the edge of the bar and waited for my chance at a beer. He was so busy buying a drink for the cute girl, he forgot to buy mine. That’s OK. I understand priorities.

The girl was trashed. She wasn’t quite slurring, but she had that carefree, reckless manner that comes once the booze has knocked down all the defenses. Her name was Abigail and she proceeded to tell us that she doesn’t like to dress nice or wear make-up. No shit. She didn’t need to. As my dad would say, she was a “natural.”

After she got her hands on that shot of whiskey and pint of beer – both compliments of Kevin, she slid back to the seat next to her friend. Kevin watched her slide away with a not all too surprised look on his face. He had been had and he knew it. Ah well, she was out of his league anyway.

I returned to my seat – the seat next to Abigail. “I saw you earlier over at the Black Forest,” I said. “Noooo,” she replied playfully, “I don’t know the place. Never been there in my life.” Did I say she was cute? She was cute. After while she confessed that she bartends there. Then she went back to talking to her friend. Her priorities were obviously getting drunk and talking to friends - not getting picked-up by strange guys. And with looks like hers I couldn’t blame her. She could do that any day of the week. I went back to talking to Kevin.

Later her and her friend went out for a smoke. Knowing that I smoke and not falling victim to that nasty habit himself, Kevin urged me to go out there and strike up a conversation. “I’ll see what I can do,” I told him.

I walked out into the cool night air and lit-up. Abigail and her friend were pretty involved in some deep conversation about something and there was no way for me to jump in without looking like a clumsy, overbearing idiot. So I dropped it. You have to do that sometimes - be willing to let things go. And if you’re lucky, when you let one thing go, another appears in its place.

There’s this girl I’ve been seeing around town and every time I see her, everything else fades. It’s not just her looks, it’s the way she dresses, the way she moves, the way she is. There’s something about her that takes my breath away. And now here she was standing outside of Lucky’s smoking a cigarette. I wasn’t going to blow this opportunity. “I saw you at the bike shop the other day,” I said.
“I remember,” she replied.
“And I saw you earlier at the library.”
“Oh yes, the library,” she said like someone speaking of a far off place full of fond memories. “My name’s Laura,” she said and held out her hand. “My name’s John,” I said and shook it.
“What’s your name?” I asked her friend.
“Erin.”
“Erin?”
“Eric,” he said.
“Oh, sorry. Eric.”
“Do you work at the bike shop,” Laura asked.
“No I just volunteer, building bikes.”
“Cool.”
“I love bikes.”
“Me too”
“There’s something about them. They’re just so…so,” I searched for the word, “sexy.”
“Yeah.” she agreed.
And then at some point, right of the blue, for no reason, she said, “You better be careful, I might bite you.”
What? I know what I heard, but part of me is saying, she couldn’t have said that, and another part is saying, but she did. It’s not that I don’t think a beautiful girl like that could be interested in me, it’s just that I’m 39 and here she is at an age that I’m surprised she’s even able to be at a bar, and is she flirting with me? I shook it off, still not knowing what to say, so I kind of just growled like a cat – “REEEERRR.”

With our cigarettes burnt away and the first bout of conversation extinguished, she said, “Let’s get a beer Eric.”
“OK, let’s get a beer,” he said.
“Let’s get a beer John,” she added and my heart skipped with glee.

Continued in part iii.