Bar Crawl(7)

I took the final bite of the first half of my BLT and sat back, raking my hand through my hair, grumbling loudly. “Look, I’m not going to pretend I’m someone I’m not. I like women, okay? I love them. And I mainly work in bars, so where else would you suggest I look for them?”

“It’s not that you can’t look for women in the bar. But why are you always with a different girl? Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

“Sure, I’ve had—”

“I mean one at one time,” she interrupted.

I growled louder, looking to the ceiling. “What do you want from me?”

“What do you want from me?” She set her fork down and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms as she waited for my answer.

Shit.

“I…I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

Frankie dropped her arms from across her waist and resumed eating. “Look, CJ, there’s a chance that you’re a decent guy. I’m not basing that on much, but I’d like to assume there’s a chance. The problem, though, is I’m not going to be a character in your personal rom-com where you try to get the girl that turned you down just to validate your masculinity or whatever.”

Heat rose through my neck and into my cheeks. I couldn’t tell if I was insulted or embarrassed. She was wrong, but I’d need to craft my next words carefully.

“I think…” I paused and took a deep breath. “I think you know a lot less about me than you think you do.”

“So tell me something about you that no one else knows,” she challenged. It was a test, and one I’d better pass if I wanted this lunch to lead to another one. The problem was, most of the things people didn’t know about me they didn’t know for a reason.

I smacked my lips as my eyes widened. “My best friend is a girl. And,” I added in before she could cut me off, “we’ve never slept together. And never will. We’ve been friends since high school and she’s engaged to my cousin.”

“Does she have a name? This freak of nature?” Frankie teased.

“Georgia.” I missed G and Regan like crazy, and was looking forward to their wedding on the beach in Provincetown in a couple of weeks.

“No one knows she’s your best friend?” Frankie asked skeptically. “Certainly she knows, and at least your cousin knows?”

“Oh, come on!” I pleaded. “You know what I mean. Do you think anyone in their right mind would think I’d have a girl as a best friend?” I stood on my womanizing reputation as a means to highlight the unlikely nature of this information.

She grinned. “One you’d never slept with? Not a chance in hell. I guess I’ll accept it.”

“Now I want you to tell me something.”

Frankie shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“What is your name short for? All the stuff on the school’s website had Frankie.”

She chuckled, setting her fork on her now-empty plate. It was refreshing to watch a woman finish her meal, even if it wasn’t one I’d paid for. “That’s it.”

“What?” I asked, crumpling my napkin and tossing it on my plate.

“Frankie is my name. It’s not Francine or Francis or whatever the hell else. It’s…just Frankie. What does CJ stand for?” She eyed me carefully.

I shook my head. “Sorry. Question and answer time is over. You asked one, and I asked one. That’s the end.”

She laughed. It wasn’t the sarcastic chuckle I’d become used to during our meal. It was light and airy. “God, is it something horrible? Like Carol?”

I kept a straight face and widened my eyes slightly, for effect.

“Oh no.” Her face turned pale as she covered her mouth. “It’s Carol? Shit, I’m sorry!” She lowered her head so her shoulder-length hair covered her face.

I couldn’t hold out any longer. A laugh broke through my facade, causing her to look up.

“You’re kidding?” she asked, still looking mortified.

I nodded as I stood, still laughing. “I’m kidding. It’s not Carol, but the look on your face was priceless.”

“You’re an *,” she mumbled as we cleared our plates and made our way to the door.

“Eh, I’ve been called worse. Hey, I’m playing at Upper Deck tonight. You should stop by.” I know how lame it sounds to ask a woman to come see me play. Really I didn’t care if she was there for the set at all, I just wanted to talk to her afterward. It was obvious I couldn’t tell her that, though, because she wasn’t likely to believe me given my usual activities after my sets.

Frankie looked into the sun, squinting her grey eyes. “Maybe. I’ve got papers to grade.”

“What kind of papers?”

“Short stories on their feelings about heading into the next school year.”

I nodded. I wanted to ask about ten more questions, but I didn’t want to give myself away. “Well, consider it. We don’t get to play outside much because of all the racket.” I put on my best old geezer voice. “But it’ll be fun.”

“I’ll consider it,” she agreed as she opened her door. She granted me a polite smile before ducking into her car. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Thank you.”