On the Rocks(33)

“I guess. I want her to be happy, but then again, I think she deserves so much better. I hate watching her go through this. Part of me wants them to break up because I think it’d be better for her in the long run, but I feel bad saying that. It’s like, if it happened, I’d be sorry I wasn’t sorry, you know what I mean?”

“You women are complicated creatures. Do you hear yourself?”

“Yeah, I know. Anyway, guess what?” I said, my excitement audible in my voice.

“You’re going to tell me why your last relationship blew up? Was it another guy? Another woman? Wait, did you have another woman?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but none of the above. I did, however, get the job. And the funny thing is, I know the owner from high school.”

“Is it a guy?” he asked.

“No, why?”

“Because the only thing better than trying to pick up girls while they’re at work is picking up a colleague at work,” he answered flatly.

“I bet Grace would have some opinions on that topic. Dating in the workplace, bad idea.”

“True. If you do and you find out you’re just some dude’s slam piece, you’re screwed.”

“Grace is not his slam piece! Don’t talk about her like that, especially since I have no idea what a slam piece is.”

Bobby laughed and placed his pornographic cocktail on the bar. “Okay, see I just learned something new about you. You’re ferociously loyal. That’s a good quality. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to insult Grace, and I’ll make sure I never do that in front of you again.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” My mind started to drift, and for a second I completely checked out of the conversation we were having.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind, Abby?” he asked as he waved his hand in front of my face to get me to refocus on the present.

“It’s nothing.” I sighed. It was the truth. It was nothing, and yet at the same time it was everything.

“It’s pretty obvious it’s something. I’m standing right here. Why don’t you tell me whatever it is that has you so preoccupied.”

“If you really want to know, I’m trying to figure out why the guys you want to stay around never do, and the ones you want to get rid of stick like pissed-off mice in glue traps. Why is that?” I asked. As hard as I tried to push thoughts about Ben to the back of my mind, they refused to stay there. There were so many of them bouncing around inside my head, I was surprised I could hear myself think at all.

“Am I supposed to be the mouse in this scenario?” he asked, confused.

“What? No. You’re not the mouse,” I answered, still distracted.

“Because I’m trying to be your friend here. I don’t think comparing me to a rodent is the basis on which healthy friendships are started.”

“I was thinking about all guys, guys in general. Not just you.”

“Ahh, okay then. Well, maybe we’re gluttons for punishment. Or maybe we like a challenge, so the girls who tell us to get lost are the ones we become most interested in.”

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Guys are simple creatures. It’s the girls who are crazy and complicated. Chew on that for a while, and when you’re ready to admit that it actually might be that simple, you know where to find me,” he said with a wink as he grabbed his martini and ambled over to a crowd of people on the other side of the bar.

I fished my phone out of my bag, hoping no one would notice it was turned off and I was only pretending to check it to appear busy, when someone over my shoulder said, “The scary thing is, that dirty slut martini might actually take off.”

I turned and saw a stocky, friendly-looking guy with shaggy blond hair and dark eyes standing next to me. He was drinking a draft beer and smiling broadly, revealing a dimple in his left cheek.

“Believe me, I know. He’ll probably end up having a bar named after him or be inducted into some kind of liquor hall of fame.”

“Still, I don’t know that I’d ever order a cocktail like that in front of a lady. Especially one I just met. With my luck, she wouldn’t hear me correctly, would think I just called her a filthy slut, and throw a drink in my face.”

“Do people still do that? Throw drinks in guys’ faces?” I asked, sincerely interested. I figured that move went out with hair-twirling.

“I have a friend who gets it at least one a month.”

“He must have a way with the ladies.”

“A way to piss them off, yeah, definitely,” he joked.

I smiled a genuine smile. This guy seemed nice, and as far as I could tell, he didn’t have a forked tail or cloven hooves, so talking to him seemed harmless enough.

“I’m Abby,” I said.

“Ryan,” he replied as he shook my hand. “Are you from around here?”

“I’m from Boston, but I’m spending the summer here. You?”

“Yes and no.”

“Consider me intrigued,” I said as I took a sip of my drink. It was the best flirting move I could come up with on the fly now that I knew that straw-sucking wasn’t an option.

“I just moved here from New York, so technically I’m from around here, yes, but I don’t know anything about the area. I usually spend my summers in the Hamptons, so this is new for me.”