Allen

Either I was an idiot, or she was torturing me. Might be some of both. Yeah, maybe a whole lot of both. I'd waited at the top of the stairs the other night, thinking maybe I could help carry her groceries or something. Christ, all I wanted was for this woman to like me, but it seems like every time I open my mouth, I piss her off. Or she pissed me off. Take your pick. Always two ways with this chick. I had all kinds of crap running around in my head, how I would say it. And then, when she was right in front of me, I panicked and clammed up. Moron.

That was last night. Tonight, I watched from the safe distance beneath the hood of my truck as she was dragged along by a couple of people from work, Jamie and that chick friend of his. She was cute, but not my type. My eyes were glued to the honey blonde she was dragging behind her. God, she looked like a million bucks. And she wasn't one of those chicks that was so skinny you wondered if they would break in two under the strain of a decent hug. She had what my mom called 'meat'. The kind of meat that made me hungry for more than dinner. I couldn't take my eyes off of her as they walked across the parking lot. Jeans, tank shirt, and cowboy boots. My kind of girl. And all that curly blond hair spilling down her back didn't hurt either. Made a man think about getting his hands wrapped up in it. Unfortunately, the only thing my hands were currently wrapped up in was the oil in my truck. They rolled out in Jamie's Honda, pop music blaring from the open windows. Jamie seemed like a decent guy...maybe I could finagle an invite to wherever they were headed. Looked like party night to me.

I ran my hands through my hair, pushing it out of my face. It was nice to keep it loose when I wasn't at work, but then I looked down at my hands. "Agh, shit." It would take forever to get the oil and grease off of me enough to be presentable. Fuck it. I slammed the hood of my truck down, tossed the tools in the back, and headed up to my apartment.

A long, hot shower later, I was sitting in my living room, waiting for a return text from Jamie. I grabbed a Monster out of the fridge, and flipped through the stack of unopened mail on the counter. Hopefully, they weren't already too loaded to answer their phones. I felt wired already, and the Monster probably wasn't helping. I just about jumped out of my skin when my cell vibrated on the countertop. I snatched it up, skimming through Jamie's message. Yeah, they were out alright, some little place called the Reo. I grabbed my keys and headed out. I'm gonna at least talk to her tonight. Maybe she'll be different when she's not at work. Maybe not, maybe she'll still spit fire at me. But I was interested enough to find out.

It took me longer to find the place than I expected, and when I got there, the parking sucked. I found a place to jam my truck in towards the back of the lot, and headed for the door. Cover charge taken care of, I visually skimmed the crowd, looking for her. And there she was: dancing in the middle of the floor with Jamie and whats-her-face. She looked relaxed, kind of happy. I settled for a seat at the end of the bar, ordered a beer, and just let myself drink in the vision of her. She moved easily, her hips catching the beat with what looked like very little effort. Natural rhythm. That made me smile. I wondered what else she had natural rhythm at? This was nice, being able to watch her without that serious face she wore at work. So when the chemical blonde just walked up and threw the drink on her, my first thought was to slap the shit out of her for ruining my moment. I stood up, my body tensed, as Annie stood there, facing off with Miss Maybelline. Shit, I couldn't hear what they were saying. But I could see Jamie and… fuck! What is her name? Laura, that's it… taking Annie's arms from each side, trying to pull her away from the dance floor. I saw the limp dick dude behind Miss Maybelline laughing with her, and then the bitch had the balls to straight slap my dream girl. Fuck! Now every muscle in my body was tense, and I felt my own heartbeat speed up. I started moving towards the standoff, but before I could get close enough to make my presence known, I heard Annie yell "Hey Barbie!" and then she straight punched her! Dammit girl! This time, she let Laura and Jamie pull her away, while the other chick fell to the floor clutching her face. I looked back at Annie, and saw only a cool expression. Her cheek was tinged pink from the slap, but she stood her ground. The three of them made it out the door before I could get to them, the crowd gathering around the chick that hit the deck, and by the time I got through the crowd and out the door, all I could see were the taillights of Jamie's car pulling out of the lot. Shit! This sucked. But I gotta admit, that girl had a right hook that was a thing of beauty. I haven't seen that many chick fights, but they usually go for the scratching or hair pulling. This one was different. Nice, very nice.

 

I stood there for a few minutes, contemplating. This woman had me hooked, and it wasn't just the rockin' body she hid beneath her scrubs. I've had my share of hot women, and even though a few…okay, several, had managed to wheedle their way into my bed, there hadn't been any that managed to give me that tingle in the pit of my gut, the one that said there was more than raunchy sex in the future. There was something about her that pulled at me, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. On a hunch, I headed back in to the bar. Lots of people were leaving after the fight, but I had a feeling, and when my gut says do something, I've learned to roll with it. I resumed my place at the bar, ordered another beer. It didn't take long to find Miss Maybelline, with a crowd of people around her and the schmuck she had been with on the dance floor. It wasn't five minutes before I realized my gut had paid off, as usual.

The bartender was an older woman, one who looked like she'd seen her share of bar fights, and by the expression on her face, this one was no surprise. "Hey handsome, you gonna nurse that beer all night?" she asked me, using a clean towel to wipe the bar in front of me. I studied her, the bleached blonde hair that showed dark roots, the heavy makeup and cheap jewelry. But she had kind eyes, and a motherish-type of way about her. "First time I been in here, a friend told me to check out the action," as I nodded toward the loser, "Not sure if that's what he meant."

She laughed, a nice laugh, the deep kind that goes all the way down. "I wouldn't worry about it," she said as she tapped off my beer, "Jimmy is a prick, always showing up in here with some floozy. This one was dumb enough to get in his wife's face."

I damn near choked on the beer as I tried to keep my voice calm. "His wife?"

She looked at me, tilting her head to the side the way women do when they know you aren't being entirely truthful. "Yah, Annie hasn't ever been in here, but I used to bartend at Sammy's, so I know her. She would come in every so often, have a few beers. Never one to get messed up, though, you know what I mean?" I could see that she was remembering, and being the chatty sort, felt the need to share.

"What about the husband?"

"Useless sack of shit, if you ask me. Annie's worth ten of him, and then some. He never deserved her, and why in the name of God she ever married him in the first place is beyond me." She dusted the smooth warm wood of the bar mindlessly, and I just let her continue. I've always had a way with people, or so I've been told, that makes them want to open up. Complete strangers have been known to tell me their life story with no more prodding than a simple greeting. Sometimes it was useful, like right now. I had the feeling that this woman, Sherry by the nametag on her shirt, would probably tell me just about anything I wanted to know about the lovely and mysterious Annie.

"Sounds like you're fond of her." I said, as I took another sip, reaching for a handful of nuts out of the bowel she put in front of me.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that I am. I knew her mom, way, way back in the day. We weren't best friends or anything, but we knew each other. Her mom was a real piece of work, let me tell you, but Annie's a good girl. Put herself through school, made it on her own. Why, you like the look of her?"

Sherry smiled at me, and I figured maybe a dash of truth wouldn't hurt. "I was about to go ask her to dance with me when the shit hit the fan. Didn't realize she was married." Another sip of beer, some more nuts. Kept my hands from showing the little twitch I get whenever something is bugging me.

"Well, technically she's not. Jimmy, that's the useless sack of shit over there, came in here a couple weeks ago bragging about how he finally got rid of the ball and chain. It's been bimbo city with him since. Not that he didn't do that before, but he's flaunting it more now. From what I can tell, it's all over but the paperwork. Maybe you should bring your handsome self back here sometime, see if you can catch her again." She smiled at me, leaning forward on the bar as if I was the only customer in the place.

I propped my elbows on the smooth wood, nudging the bowel out of the way. I put on my best dazzling smile and leaned in as well. "Maybe you could give me her number, and I promise you when I bring her back here, I'll show her a real good time". Flirting was fun, and easy if you knew which buttons to push.

Sherry's lashes fluttered a bit as she replied "Well how am I supposed to get you to come visit me again if you've got a hot date with you?"

"Sweetheart, you give me Annie's number, and I'll be your slave for life, scout's honor." Dazzling smile again. She straightened up from the bar, saying "Darling boy, I hate to say I don't have a phone number for her… but I tell you what: if I see her in here again, I'll let her know she had a gorgeous hunk of man checking her out. Deal?" She smiled at me, and tapped the side of my glass. "In the mean time, you tip back too many of these, and I'll have to put you on lockdown in the store room".

"Yes ma'am." Country, and polite. Gets 'em every time. I saw the shift in her expression, and felt someone plop down on the barstool next to me. "What'll it be?" she said curtly.

I turned my head to see the sack of shit taking up perfectly good space next to me. He was average looking, wearing a cheap suit and bad aftershave. I turned up my nose at the stink. Phew, this guy smelled like a bad combination of a French whore and bathroom cologne. Despite the assault on my senses, I stayed put.

"Just gimme a beer, Sherry, and no shit." His voice was kind of nasal, and had a whiny edge to it. He raked a hand through his hair, and then finally noticed me sitting there. "Enjoy the show?" he sneered.

"Man, I'm just sitting here enjoying a nice cold beer after work, no need to get pissy." A part of me wanted him to get pissy, just so I would have a legitimate reason to knock the stupid off of him. I'd seen his type before, the kind of guy that pissed you off just by being in the same room. Arrogant, cocky little weasel. And when it came down to brass tax, weasels like him always ended up running with their tail between their legs.

"That dumb bitch. What the fuck was she thinking, coming in here like that? Stupid slut…" he muttered.

There was already a fire burning in the pit of my gut, and this jerk was just pouring fuel on it. I breathed in slowly, keeping my hands steady on my glass. Keep calm; don't let this asshole get to you. It was just weird, to be feeling so pissed off, over something that had nothing to do with me. Annie wasn't my wife, or even my girlfriend. Hell, we weren't even friends. So why did this prick irritate me so much? Why did I feel the urgent need to smash his face against the bar for talking trash about her?

Sherry brought him a glass, the foam still spilling over the edge of the rim, and dropped it in front of him, sloshing cold beer on the bar she had just cleaned. "Here," she said curtly, "That'll be four-fifty".

He threw a twenty on the bar, away from the wet spots, and took a long swig from the glass. He turned to me and said "You know, I don't get women. I mean, look at that stupid wife of mine. She bitches about me going to the bar, and the minute I drop her sorry ass, she shows up with some idiot friends of hers and purposely tries to ruin my night. Now Brandy is pissed at me, and I probably won't get any tonight. I mean, for fuck's sake, don't they know anything?"

"I guess it depends on the woman." I said, using every ounce of willpower I had to keep my voice smooth and cool.

He turned towards me, breathing the heavy stink of too much booze and bad hygiene in my direction way more than I cared for. "Seriously, man. I mean, you were here, right? Brandy didn't do anything to her, and she fucking goes apeshit. I mean, I thought all chicks did was slap at each other and pull hair. Maybe she's a fucking dyke, who knows? But let me tell you, real women don't hit like that."

This fucker could not be serious. Sherry caught my glance from a few feet away, and rolled her eyes. I guess she knew he was an idiot too. "So that was your wife, huh? The one that did the punching."

He gulped down half of the beer. "Soon to be ex-wife. Divorce will be final next month. Then I'm gonna marry Brandy."

What a complete idiot. Divorcing a gem like Annie for a piece of trailer trash like the one he was with here tonight.

And then I caught myself. A gem? Seriously? Man, what is wrong with me? I haven't even slept with the girl yet, and I'm calling her a gem? Ugh… at least it's only in my own head. I listened as he went on some more.

"I know it's wrong, but I've been seeing Brandy on the side for a long time. Ever since my bitch of a wife got wrapped up in school for some stupid job at the hospital and started ignoring me. I mean, I'm a man, you know? I got needs." I wondered if he was trying to convince me, or himself. I felt that fire in my gut stoke a little bit higher. Stupid job at the hospital? Fucker was talking about my job too, and that pissed me off even more.

"Sometimes its hard," I heard myself saying, "Balancing school and a relationship."

"Fuck no it's not hard!" he spat, slamming his now empty glass on the bar. "That school shit doesn't matter. I was her damn husband, so my needs should come before anything. It's a simple fucking equation, but she was too stupid to see what she had!" His face was flushed, and I could tell it was time to go, before the reins around my temper snapped, and I lost control of the urge to wipe the floor with this weasel. Secretly, I thought maybe she did see what she had, and decided she could do better.

I pulled out my wallet, and dropped a ten on the bar, nodding at Sherry. "Well, I gotta run, it was nice talking to you. Beer's on me. Take it easy."

And I left without a backward glance.