On the Rocks(77)
“Call me old-fashioned.”
Not bad, Tom. Good boy. He deserved a Scooby snack.
“Well, I’m from Boston, and this summer is my first time in Newport, so in all seriousness, I doubt it.”
“No, I mean it. I’ve seen you in one of the stores in town. I went in to get a gift for my mom once, and you were working the counter. I thought about trying to talk to you, but I chickened out. I ended up buying one of those ridiculous signs you hang on doorknobs while I tried to build up my courage.”
“Really? That’s funny, and flattering.” I looked up at him and realized that I did recognize him. He was the guy who bought the I’D RATHER BE FISHING sign. The one who I thought seemed interested, but then left without even so much as asking my name. And now, a few beers in, he had no problem talking to me. Maybe I should suggest that Lara sell cocktails in the store to make sure that nothing like this ever happened again. I found it oddly cute that he could place me from his brief visit to the shop. This guy was either hugely attentive or a complete psychotic stalker. I decided to go with attentive until he displayed some other sign of needing to be locked up in a high-security prison wearing a face mask. “Oh yeah,” I said as I broke into a wide grin. “I do remember you. I’m sorry it took me a few minutes to place you.”
“Don’t be sorry. Is that what you do for a living? Work in that store?”
“No, I’m helping the owner part-time this summer. I’m actually a kindergarten teacher in Boston during the year.”
“Really, that’s great. It must be rewarding working with kids. At least you feel like you contribute something to the world.”
“And you don’t contribute?”
“I work in the accounts department of an ad agency. Let’s just say that if I drop dead tomorrow, no, I won’t feel like I have left my mark on society in any real way, you know what I mean?”
Cute, employed, and civic-minded. Keep up the good work, Tom, I silently instructed.
“I think these days everyone is trying to figure out how to make their lives more meaningful, but I’m sure the accounts department is happy to have you,” I said, so impressed with how far my ability to flirt had progressed over the last two months.
“Thanks. You must love being out here during the week when the town isn’t being overloaded with people.”
“Yeah, it’s been nice. You weekend people cramp my style.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. We aren’t all that bad, though, you know.”
“Hmm. Sorry, I have no evidence to support that statement.”
“Well, if you’re up for it, why don’t you meet up with us next weekend when I’m back? I’m meeting a few friends tonight, who I actually just saw come in, so I should go join them.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, preparing myself for a brush-off.
“But I’m serious,” he said. “Let’s meet up next weekend if you’re around. Can I get your number?”
I was shocked. Was my aunt Patrice right? Had I been flashing some kind of DO NOT DISTURB sign this whole time like some bitter woman bat signal?
“Sure,” I said. I was about to give him my number when I had a thought. “I should probably mention that I’m not on Facebook. That’s been an issue for me in the past.”
“That’s fine. I never check it anyway,” he said.
Marry me.
He removed his phone from his back pocket and programmed my number into it. I hadn’t been this hopeful about anything in a very long time, and for once, I didn’t have to worry about Facebook sabotaging me. He squeezed my shoulder briefly as he said good-bye. “Nice to meet you, Abby. I’ll be in touch with you sometime this week.”
“Sounds good. Talk to you later. It was nice to meet you.”
I was giddy, and I couldn’t wait to tell Bobby about my progress. At least I now recognized when I was being hit on.
“There are some cute guys over there,” Lara said, surprised, as she strained her neck to see through the crowd. “Does Grace work with cute guys?”
I looked over at the table, but it was dark and half of the group had their backs to us, so the only thing I could tell from where we were standing was which ones were going to bald prematurely. By my count, at least three.
Lara was contorting her upper body so badly I was afraid she’d throw her back out. “You should hang out with her work crew. Lawyers are smart,” she reminded me. She tapped her index finger on the side of her temple to illustrate, just in case I didn’t know what smart meant. “Smart means successful. Successful is good.”
“Smart could also mean they’re huge nerds,” I said. “You could spend the rest of your life watching your husband play Dungeons and Dragons on your computer. Is that the kind of life you want? I sure don’t.” I could handle a lot of things, but a man who played computer games to have a good time was completely unacceptable.
The bartender reappeared, holding a bottle of champagne. He popped the cork, spilling a stream of fizzy bubbles on the floor, and set flutes on the bar in front of us. “This is for you guys. Compliments of the gentleman in the orange shirt at the back table over there.” He pointed to the table where Grace was gabbing with her fellow lawyers. The bar was dark and deciphering a shirt color was nearly impossible, so I was having a hard time figuring out which one of the crew had sent over the bottle of champagne. Not that I cared. I’d take a free bottle of champagne from Lucifer if he offered it to me.