the while. It’s like he trained in the art of persuasion. The whole time Bobby is leaning in, sucking it all up like a baby bear drinking his mother’s milk. Do bears have milk?
“Bobby. You’re making the classic, shortsighted mistake. You know when there are four gas stations on one corner? Why do they do that? Because that way, people know where the gas is! It’s a destination point. Look at The 5.”
“The freeway?” Bobby asks.
“Yeah. You ever drive it to Los Angeles?” Brendan jogs a thumb south through the air.
Bobby nods and picks up a bar towel to have something to hold onto, a common thing amongst us bar-folk. “Yeah. My sister lives down there. I’ve driven down it a bunch of times.”
“You know how when you’re coming up on one gas station, you wait for the next stop because you’d rather go where there are more? You know you’ll get a better choice in price, in convenience stores, coffee, more food places… all that stuff. That’s why the solo gas station charges more. They know you’re only stopping there because you’re about to run out of gas, and you have no other option. Given the option of more – people always choose more.”
Bobby drops the towel and scratches his growing beard like someone who loves how long it’s getting. “Oh, I’m catchin’ what you’re throwin’ down.”
Brendan sits back on his stool. “But this goes deeper. What I just said, well, that’s just smart capitalism. But get ready for this, Bobby. See, the way I’m thinking is… she’s the new kid on the block, and the new kid got bullied. If you come to the rescue, what does that make you?”
Bobby puts his arms over his head. “Holy shit. The hero!”
I grin from ear to ear and Brendan laughs. “Damn fuckin’ straight. You’ll be the hero. You and Knockout will have a shine that no one can tarnish. Excellent buzz for you, and more people coming down to Mission.”
I chime in, “We’re stronger together than we ever were apart. People forget that because society teaches fear. Fuck fear.”
Bobby shakes his head. “Fuck fear!! That’s fuckin’ right!” He turns and sweeps his arm through the air in front of the bottles. “What can I get for you guys? It’s on me.”
Brendan starts to order an Oban, but then stops and changes it to a Jameson, neat. I ask for the same and Brendan looks at me with respect, as men always do when you order whiskey and you’re not an alcoholic. “I’m going to text Taryn and Laura, see if they can come down.”
Brendan pulls out his phone, too. “I’ll see if Mark wants to come.”
As I key in a group text to the girls, I smile down at my phone. “Oh man, it’s too bad Mark is taken because Taryn would looooooove him.”
About forty-five minutes later, the only two people left to arrive are Laura and her husband. I texted Manny, too, and he arrived with his cousin, the two of them now sitting a few barstools down, watching the television with smiles on their faces over who knows what. And I was right; Taryn is talking to Mark with a look on her face like he’s Zeus and she’s thunder, waiting to do his bidding. I whisper into her ear, “He’s taken,” and she deflates.
“Of course he is,” she mumbles back, rolling her eyes. “Lucky girl. Have you met her?”
I shake my head no, as a really pretty woman with shorter dark-brown hair comes over to say hello. Brendan introduces us. “Teri, this is Annie and Taryn.” Then he takes my hand purposefully and I watch Teri’s eyes change as she shifts her weight, her head going back a little, signal received loud and clear. Which means I’m getting the signal even louder. How many of these women am I going to have to meet? But when he squeezes my hand,
and Mark looks at him with amusement, I feel better.
“Nice to meet you,” Teri says, mostly to me. She smacks Mark on the shoulder, holding her hand there like a friend. “I’m meeting some people to watch the band. I’ll catch you creeps later.” She smiles and walks off, with Brendan the only one not watching. He’s looking down at his lap.
Mark’s eyes flit to my face and I raise my eyebrows at him, defiantly. He laughs, “I like you, Annie.”
Everyone looks to the booming voice of the hot momma walking up, yelling, “Well, well! Hail to the