and I finally close my mouth. The lady tells me, “Girl, lock that man down. Put a ring on his finger and yours, have his babies, and never let him go.” To her man, she adds, “It’s true.” He shakes his head but looks like he agrees.
“Oh.” I start, remembering that I’m supposed to be getting a beer. “Coors, right?” I ask, pointing at the guy who flagged me down. He nods kindly and even says ‘thanks’ when I set it in front of him.
After a couple of hours, the place slows down considerably, to my surprise. The Saturday with live music had been an absolute madhouse, but even the regular Saturdays were busier than this. I’m not complaining, though. It’s given me time to watch Bobby.
I guess I expected tonight to be a continuation of where we left off. Hot and heavy, in other words, but he’s been happily playing pool with a group of guys he seems vaguely familiar with. He’s still shooting sexy looks my way and keeping a close watch over me and the whole bar. I have no doubt he could tell you how many people are here, who’s tipsy, who’s looking to get laid, and who’s looking for an escape into the bottom of a glass. He also probably knows that today is wearing me out, my feet are tired, and my back is aching. I feel like he’s observant of things like that, the same way I am.
Actually, I’ve taken several pictures of him tonight with my phone. Thank God for digital zoom. Those photos are for me, though. To my blog, I posted a tub of lemons with a caption that read, “When life gives you lemons, chop them to bits and suck their insides out.” I’d thought it was funny, and it’s gotten several comments agreeing with me. Now, I take a shot of my shoes on the slick floor and rubber mats add, “Feet numb. Floor slippery. Bad combo for your girl. Pray for verticality.”
Having a few minutes, I make my way across the room toward the pool tables. Oh, who am I kidding? I’m going straight to Bobby like he’s pulling on my strings.
The small group shifts automatically, like they know I belong at his side and make space for me to be there. “Did you eat yet?” Bobby asks with real concern, his arm going around my waist and pulling me close.
“Yeah, Ilene set me and Olivia up with some extra fries she had.” They hadn’t been extra at all. She’d made them for us, delivered them to the bar, then nearly ran back to the kitchen where she prefers it.
“Good.”
“What about you? You want something?” I ask, knowing he usually eats with me too.
“I ate already. I was starving and grabbed a bite from Mama Louise before I came,” he says with a touch of regret, like I could fault him for it. “I figured I’d snack again with you, though.”
“Guess we’re both good then.” I laugh. Turning to the table, I ask, “Who’s winning?”
“Way to back the shark’s play,” a guy answers me from across the table. He’s got a pool stick in his hand and is looking at Bobby expectantly. I guess he’s waiting on Bobby to shoot while he’s talking to me instead.
“Shark?” I repeat, confused. Looking to Bobby, I ask, “You any good?”
He shrugs modestly, and I know the answer is a resounding yes.
Somehow, that challenge turns into a chance for him to show off, and a casual and friendly tournament breaks out in the group. I even play a bit, though I’m usually behind the bar too much to be any good at games. It’s fun, and as we clear out, I can easily work my way back and forth from the bar to the table since I’ve done so much side work already, and people are slowing down on drinks now that the kitchen is closed and Ilene and Daniel are cleaning up back there.
After a bit, Olivia even plays a round, winning easily. “Take that, sucka,” she hollers to the guy she beat. While she waits for her next game, she comes over to the table where I’m perched, filling salt and pepper shakers. Another guy is helping out by wrapping silverware, telling us he used to be a waiter so he’s used to it and doesn’t mind a bit. The camaraderie is unexpected and sweet, and we get the front of the bar ready for tomorrow too as the