That poor woman paid all that money only to have a good ole’ boy take her for chicken and waffles and a round of Peter Pan putt-putt golf.”
Blaine and Sara laughed so hard that tears started to stream down their faces.
“What?” David asked sternly.
Blaine looked up at him. “Peter Pan putt-putt closes at 8.”
They continued laughing. Even David had trouble keeping himself angry. However, the guilt and shame and nerves won over. “Fine. You two have a good old time laughing about your jokes and pranks. I have a gorgeous woman to disappoint.”
David turned to walk away. His bow matched his thong so well that Sara fell over from laughter.
“Wait.” Blaine exclaimed, trying to catch his breath through the gasps. “We planned this. Well, Sara did. It was all her idea.”
“You rotten liar!” She guffawed from the floor.
“Anyway, we both figured that you would benefit from a night with a pretty lady you weren’t quasi-related to, so we arranged this.”
“So YOU TWO are responsible for disappointing that woman? I’m not surprised.” David understood.
“To be fair, Cousin, she did bid higher than the amount of money you gave me to buy you. She would have won anyway.” Sara picked herself up and composed her emotions. Little glances between her and Blaine threatened to start the ruckus anew.
“But, the point being,” Blaine interjected, “is that I was ready for this. You do have a date planned. You are coming to the after-party with me, and then you have reservations at the Emerald Café. You can thank me later. You can even tell Miss Johnson that it was your idea. Call it an early Christmas present.”
Relief swept over David, right before another tinge of nervousness. “After-party? You know I don’t drink or dance, right?”
Sara rolled her eyes. “It’s true. He CAN NOT dance.”
“It’s more of a ball than a party. Really elegant stuff. You can work out the dancing thing. You’re a resourceful guy, Boyscout. You need to go change out of that little thong. As adorable as you look in it, it’s not black-tie. I had a tux made for you, its hanging in your changing room.”
“Thanks, Pal.” He said, half-sarcastically. “You know, you call me Boyscout, but you are the one that’s always prepared.”
*****
‘Oh shit, he’s coming.’ Jenna held her posture high, tried to smile as seductively as she knew how, and faced just a little away from the direction he was coming in.
“Hello, Miss Johnson.” David bowed, took her hand in his and kissed it. Blaine said she would like that. “Did you drive here?”
“No, I was driven. I’m afraid my well-being is in your hands tonight, Chief Conlon.” Where was she getting this? Jenna hoped she could keep up the illusion of allure all night. She took all of him in. His tuxedo was modish, flawlessly fitted to his divine body. The black of the jacket melded with his hair as if it were on purpose.
“How convenient. Come with me. I shall have the valet fetch my vehicle.” ‘Fetch? Did I just say fetch? She is going to see right through me. I am going to kill Blaine for this.’
David extended his arm and allowed Jenna to slip her hand through. Her escorted her through the front door and handed his ticket to the valet. Not but a few minutes passed before he returned with David’s dusty Chevrolet Silverado. He opened her door for her and attempted to scoot over the purple bag that his thong was in as well as some protein bar wrappers, Whataburger fountain drink cups and a George Strait CD.
“Sorry it’s a bit messy.” David was so ashamed.
Jenna looked at this beautiful man, struggling to make his ride presentable, and thought, ‘Is he nervous? Maybe he likes me.’ She was charmed. “No problem, I’m just fine.”
He helped her into the truck and got in himself. After tipping the young man, he settled into his seat and looked over at her.
She started to laugh. “Did you say ‘Fetch’?”
David blushed.
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