break-up?”
“Nope, she died.” Grabbing the Patron bottle, I pour us two more
shots. I lick my hand, shaking the salt, yanking the shot back, and
slamming the glass on the tabletop. All in an attempt to fill the silence
with some kind of noise.
“Wow. I’m sorry.” Her eyes darken with sadness as she reaches to
squeeze my hand.
“It’s ok, really.” I move my hand and pour another set of shots.
“ I've had a few boyfriends, too. I
like the person, ya know? I don’t give a shit if it’s a girl or a guy. I
guess you could call me an equal opportunity lay .” I smile trying
to reassure her that it really is ok. I toast to ambiguity, and slam my
shot, forgetting about the salt and lime. Leaning in, I say, “My first
love was Josh Sanford. He crushed my heart when I was eleven.” I
giggle eager to clear that pitiful look off her face. Her iPhone shuffles
to another song. “Ooo, I love this song!” Jumping up, I turn it up and
rock out to “I love Rock and Roll.”
Sally heads to the cabinets to search for munchies, her hips swaying to
the music. “Damn it. No food. Oh, well.” Closing the
empty cabinet, she sings the chorus with me at the top of her lungs.
We dance like lunatics, jamming and singing to Joan Jett.
“So, do you have a girlfriend?” I ask, collapsing into my chair.
Licking my hand and shaking salt on it, I toss back another shot.
“Nah, I’m not the settling-down type. At least not now.” Her
face lights up. “It’s college! Who wants one dish when you are in
front of an entire smorgasbord?” She winks as she salts her hand,
slamming a shot, yelling, “Oh yeah!” I’m right behind her, sucking
greedily on the lime. “How about you?”
“Well, I met this guy today that was really hot.” My voice
sounds almost wistful, what the fuck is that all about? Shaking my
head, I say, “He’s way out of my league in the looks department, though.
I think he’s older, too…Nice to look at, though. Tall, dark curly hair,
stunning blue eyes, nice ass.” Leaning in and cocking my brow, I slur, “ Damn
nice . Muy caliente.” Shrugging, I say, “Hey, it took my mind
off things at home.”
“What’s his name? Maybe I know him. “
“Tommy. He works for the school chancellor. He drove me in
from the airport.”
“Tommy Bolt?” she asks, surprised. “Here, time for another shot,”
she says, pushing the filled shot glass back at me.
“Yeah, I guess so. I didn’t catch his last name. He gave me
his number, let me look.” I cross the floor failing to walk a completely
straight line, pick up my jeans, and pull out a massive mix of tiny slips of
paper. Flipping through them, I fish out the slip he wrote his name on,
and attempt to focus my eyes. “Yeah, Tommy Bolt.”
“Girl! He is smokin’. And sweet!” She shrugs and smiles
as I gape at her. “Hey, I appreciate a good looking man. Cute is
cute. And, he’s just this side of a gorgeous.” I sit back down at
the table. She smiles proudly. What’s with that look?
She studies me for a moment, appearing to attempt to focus her tequila goggles.
Her eyes graze up and down. “Yeah, I can see it. You’re a hot
little number yourself.”
“What? No, I’m not.” I sneer at her. “You’re drunk.”
“Stand up.” She pulls my arm upward, forcing me to stand before
her. “Ok, turn around,” circling her finger around. “Yeah, your
butt is to die for, nice bubble. Perky tits, but it means you aren’t tied
to a bra.” She grabs her massive melons with both hands. “Not like
these puppies. I love going without a bra, but it usually causes riots
with the men folk.” She smiles glibly, blinking her eyes rapidly.
Looking down my backside, she notes, “Great legs even for a small fry.”
Pulling me down abruptly back into my seat, she grasps my chin to get a closer
look at
John B. Garvey, Mary Lou Widmer