On the Rocks(49)
“Both of them, actually. Come on, my treat.”
Apparently having found what he was looking for, the preppy guy walked up to the counter. Bobby stepped to the side and leaned against a large china cabinet that held stacks of colorful ice cream bowls and water pitchers.
“I’ll take this, please,” he said as he placed the giant cheese board with the three-dimensional boat on it on the counter.
“Great, is it a gift? I can wrap it for you,” I offered.
“Uhh no, you don’t have to. Well, yes, I mean, it’s a gift, but you don’t have to wrap it.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
“Umm, yeah. Thanks, and you know what? I’ll take one of these too,” he said as he reached over and pulled a small wooden sign that said I’D RATHER BE FISHING off a hook on the wall. Bobby raised a lone eyebrow as he looked at the guy strangely.
“Sure, not a problem,” I said as I began to peel the price tag off the back. “Do you fish?” I asked as I continued to pick at the tag like it was a scab.
“Oh no. I don’t,” he replied, still looking a little nervous and jittery.
“Smooth,” Bobby muttered under his breath as he turned and walked toward the door to wait for me to finish up.
“Oh, well . . . it’s still a nice little accessory for someone.” I placed the cheese board and the sign in a shopping bag and swiped his credit card. When it went through, I handed him his card and smiled at him again. I know I didn’t know a lot about the way people flirt with each other, but if he wasn’t going to knock over the store, then the only other logical explanation for his behavior was that he was stalling to talk to me. If that was the case, I wanted to show him a little encouragement, let him know that I wouldn’t be against talking to him. I wanted to prove to myself and to Bobby that I had learned a few things over the past month, even if I hadn’t managed to actually go on any real dates yet. “Here you go, . . .” I said as I gave him his bag and scanned his credit card receipt for his name, “. . . Tom. Thanks for coming in. I hope you’ll come back again soon.”
“Umm, yeah. Okay, bye,” he said as he turned and left the store, forcing Bobby to step out of his way and onto a basket of needlepoint throw pillows.
I eyed Bobby suspiciously. He and I had never gone out in public alone together, but I had to admit that the concept of getting out of the house wasn’t a bad one. “Okay, Bobby,” I said, “you’re on. Wait for me outside while I lock up.”
“Cool,” he replied as he headed outside, leaned against a street sign, and smoked a cigarette while he waited for me. I locked the register, turned off the light in the storage room in the back, made sure that all the receipts were tucked away in the bottom drawer behind the counter, and closed up the shop for the night.
Bobby and I walked a few blocks to the Landing, which had become our regular watering hole, headed to the corner of the bar where we usually congregated, and grabbed two stools. We flagged down Jane, the pretty blond bartender who had become friendly with our group and now knew our drink orders by heart, and settled in at the waterfront bar that was easily one of my favorite spots in town.
“So this is overdue,” he said as he slugged the beer Jane put in front of him. “You and I have never gone out solo before,” he said.
“I think that’s because we’re afraid we’ll kill each other.”
“Could be. I think it’s a bit silly, though, don’t you? You and I aren’t all that different, you know.”
Well, that was an odd thing to say, since I couldn’t really think of anything we had in common other than our friendship with Grace. “You don’t think so?” I said. “For starters, I’m looking for someone special, and from what I can tell, that’s the furthest thing from your mind, so I don’t think our going out together makes a whole lot of sense.”
“How do you know I’m not looking for anyone?” he asked, pretending to be offended.
“You’ve told me,” I said.
“When have I done that?”
“Maybe not in so many words, but I can tell. You’re not serious about finding anyone, and don’t get me wrong, that’s fine. You’re a young guy, you have plenty of time. I just don’t feel like being single anymore. I was used to being in a relationship. It’s what I’m good at. I miss it.”
“How can you miss being in a relationship with a guy who did God knows what to you? And I mean that, because no one will tell me what the hell happened, so now I’m imagining the worst. Like, was there bondage or something involved?” he asked, the glint in his eye still visible beneath the brim of his baseball hat.
“You’re sick. No.”
“Did he want you to move to a commune Waco-style and live with him and seven other wives?”
“You’re terrible at this game,” I joked as I playfully smacked his arm.
“Then tell me. Come on, it’s just us girls here.” He leaned his chin on his hand and smiled shyly while he batted his eyelashes.
“I really don’t want to get into it, it’s nothing I want to relive and . . .” Before I could say another word, a portly, middle-aged man entered the bar, glanced in our direction, and veered our way, stopping between Bobby and me to order a drink and taking a moment to stare at Bobby and his batting eyelashes in confusion. The strange man ordered a beer before he turned to me and flashed a smile that only a mother could love. I shot Bobby a disgusted look, and he returned it with one of bemusement.