QUEENIE BABY: On Assignment (15 page)

 
“This place is amazing,” I said looking around. “I’ve never been here before.”

“Good. I tried to pick somewhere that you hadn’t played. I asked your sister, but she made it sound like you were at a different bar every night.” He shook his head. “She’s something. So I ended up checking your website and made sure I picked someplace that wasn’t listed.”

Impressive effort, I thought. “Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate that. I don’t usually get to try new places. When I’m not working, I’m usually home.”

“Not out with a wide age range of men?” he teased.

I made a face and stuck out my tongue. He shook his finger at me. “Better watch it. My Nana says your face will get stuck like that,” he warned.

“Your Nana was mean to me,” I said. “She said I was trying to trap you into marriage.”

“Guess she was wrong about that,” he replied.

Awkward silence. “So how’s the construction business?” I asked.
 

“Better than working on an oil rig, and if this economy improves a little it might just pay more,” he said.

“Yeah, it’s been a tough couple of years,” I agreed. “I lost a lot of private gigs when the market nose-dived.”
 

We placed our orders and continued to make small talk. He was into the business side of contracting. He had quite a few ideas about how to improve and streamline the operations. I had never seen this side of him before. In high school it had always been about football and getting into the best college. We talked about my music career and he complimented me on my Facebook fans.

“You’ve got a lot of people that come out to see you,” he said.

“I’ve been playing around here for five years so I’ve developed a decent following. It helps pay the bills.” I toyed with my glass of wine and looked out the window.
 

“I’d love to come see you play,” he said with genuine interest.
 

“That would be great,” I said rather noncommittally. I wasn’t sure where this was going and didn’t want to encourage future contact until I was sure.
 

He leaned over and took my fidgeting hand. “Relax, enjoy the night. Let’s just see what happens,” he said. He had piercing dark eyes and it had always seemed that he could look right through me. I looked away first. He leaned back. “Second thoughts on this date?” he asked.

I shook my head no. “I’m worried about getting stuck in the past. I don’t want the same relationship we had in high school. If that’s how it’s going to be, then I’m not interested.”
 

“Me neither,” he said emphatically. “I want the woman that you’ve become—the talented, sexy, sassy, slightly less clumsy woman. Not the girl I knew in high school.”

I relaxed a little and gave him a smile. “I don’t know if this is going to work out.”

“Let’s just give it a try and see what happens,” he said putting his hand over mine.
 

I smiled. “Hey, Rick, when was the last time you lost at pool?” I asked changing the subject.

He squinted his eyes and furrowed his brow. “Must’ve been twelve years ago to a skinny blond with an amazing bank shot.”

“I’ve still got that bank shot,” I said.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “But I spent six years on an oil rig with a bunch of guys with nothing better to do than play pool and watch TV.”

“I think I can give you a run for your money.” And I meant it. I was good in high school, but having spent years working in bars for a living I had played more games of pool than I cared to count.

“Is that a challenge?” he asked. I nodded. “How about strip pool?”
 

I made a face. “No such thing!”

“Winner takes all—when we get back to your place.” He laughed.
 

I rolled my eyes. “Do you always work so hard to get your dates naked?” I asked.

“Well, technically I had you naked night before last, so it shouldn’t be so hard a second time,” he said smugly.

Thirty minutes later we were on our way down to Dock Street to a little tavern called Brown’s. No one remembered why it was called Brown’s. The current owner, Debbie, had bought the bar from Mr. Turner, who had no idea where the name came from either. It was a dive bar with a capital D. The faint smell of cigarette smoke still clung to the low ceilings and ripped black vinyl stools despite the decade long smoking ban. It was so dark you could hardly see the floor—not that you would want to. It had a U-shaped bar in the middle and pool tables and a shuffle board in the back. I had played here a couple of times, but it wasn’t my crowd and the pay wasn’t great.
 

It was almost nine and the place was starting to get busy for a Thursday night. All the regulars had staked out their bar stools earlier in the day. “Hey, there stranger,” Debbie called from behind the bar. “Long time no see. Oh, looks like you’ve brought Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hot with you.” I rolled my eyes.
 

“You’re going to give him a big head, Debbie,” I said.

“He looks like he has a big everything.” She cackled and a few patrons joined.

“Looks like you’re pretty lucky to be with me, girlie,” Rick teased against my ear. His breath tickled my neck and I shivered. Debbie was right. Rick was hot and he had a big everything.
 

Rick bought two beers at the bar and then we made our way back to the pool tables. They were all in use, so Rick laid a stack of quarters on the rail of the nearest table.
 

A small guy with beady eyes paused mid-stroke and said, “This table is partners only.” He had a big piece of chew in his mouth and a Styrofoam cup was positioned close by.
 

His partner took in Rick’s stature and said, “Hey, Jonesy, this is a friendly game. There’s room for all.”
 

Completely cool Rick said, “Hey, no problem. I’ve got me a beautiful partner right here,” he said nodding to me.

Jonesy spit in his cup and gave me a hard look. “Ain’t playin’ no girl pool tonight,” he said and made the last shot of his game. His partner high-fived him.

See here’s the thing. I’ve been working in bars for years, so Old Jonesy doesn’t faze me. Normally I would just laugh it off and move on to the next table, but I hate being called a girl. So against my better judgment, I slipped out of my jacket, revealing more than a little leg in my little black dress. I hung up my coat slowly while all the guys watched and then wandered over to the rack of pool sticks. I tried a few before I found one I liked and then I walked back up to the table.

“Well, unless you’d like to forfeit to us, it looks like you’re out of luck. That’s our money,” I said pointing to the quarters on the rail. “And you and your friend here are the winners so you play us next. Eight ball, right?”

Jonesy eyed me for a moment and spit in his cup again. His partner was racking up the balls. Jonesy turned to Rick. “Hey big guy,” he said in a challenging tone, “you mind keepin’ your woman in line.”
 

Rick smiled and shook his head. “It ain’t that easy, Jonesy.”

Jonesy looked at me again. “Play for money to make it worth my while,” he said to Rick.

I chalked my stick and said, “You really don’t want to do that, Jonesy.” I leaned over, took a steady aim, and whacked the cue ball. The ten and fourteen went in. I looked over at Jonesy and said, “Looks like we’ve got the big balls.”

I cleared half the table on my first turn and when Jonesy missed on his second shot, Rick finished it off. Jonesy huffed and puffed and then headed up to the bar to sulk. “Hey, how about we play for money now?” I asked brightly.

“Now you’re just showing off,” Rick said with a smile.
 

“I really don’t like being called a ‘girl’ by a male chauvinist red neck,” I replied. I took a swig from my beer. “Wrack ‘em up,” I said. “Now the real fun begins. I’m going to kick your ass!”

We had a blast. He was a gracious loser, even when I beat him three out of four games. We put our sticks away and got two more beers from the bar. “You really have been spending too much time in bars,” he said leaning in for a kiss. It was light and noncommittal, kind of like the date.

“Let’s go find some music on the jukebox,” I said grabbing his hand.

Brown’s jukebox hadn’t seen anything new in years. That suited us just fine. I picked a Mary J. Blige song. He picked Nickelback, I picked Train, he picked Rage Against the Machine.

I had to say something about that one. “You still like that stuff?” I asked.

“Only moments like this.”

“How romantic,” I said with sarcasm.

We continued to flip through and then we both stopped and stared. For a second neither of us said a word. “I gotta do it,” he said softly as his hand pushed the button for Alicia Key’s hit
Fallin
’.
 

As the music began, he closed his hand over mine and pulled me over to the small empty dance floor. We rocked gently to the music, the words rolled around us. I leaned against his chest and felt his arms tighten against me. His lips brushed my forehead. “Remember the last time we danced?” he asked softly.

“The beach after graduation,” I said.

“I remember the stars in the sky and your hair looking like gold in the moonlight. I felt like that was the beginning of the rest of our lives,” he said wistfully.

I remember feeling trapped. Like someone else had decided my life for me while I was asleep and all there was for me to do was wake up and live it. “It was a beautiful night,” I agreed.

He pulled away and looked down into my eyes. “Sounds like we were thinking different things that night.”

“Do you want to re-hash all that right now?” I asked with a sigh. “I thought we were moving forward.”

“I guess I want to know where I went wrong so it won’t happen again,” he said.
 

Classic Rick, I thought. Let’s analyze everything to death. Alicia was gone and Rage Against the Machine was blaring across the speakers. How appropriate. We sat down in an empty corner booth. I brushed my hair out of my eyes, wishing I had pulled it back tonight. “So what went wrong,” I said fiddling with my beer label. “Where should I start?” I asked.

Rick’s face darkened. “Oh, come on,” he said. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“For you,” I shot back. “You had your life all planned out and expected me to tuck my life in around yours wherever it would fit.”

“You didn’t have a plan,” he said with exasperation. “You were going to major in music in hopes of becoming the next Carly Simon. At least economics was a real degree.”

“I hated economics,” I hissed. “And thanks to you I ended up at a school that didn’t have a music program at all. So I spent four years in classes I was bored to death with. Luckily there was a decent music scene on campus.”

“Oh, yes,” he said with sarcasm. “Your grunge music buddies. I wonder where they all are now?”

“Grunge was in back then,” I said defensively. “And from what I see on Facebook, they’re doing just fine.”

Rick rubbed a hand across his face. “Look,” he said quietly, “I don’t want to fight. I just wanted to know where it went wrong.”

“I’m not sure it was ever right,” I said sadly.

The ride back to my house was quiet. Rick commented politely as we passed different landmarks. I was tired after my long crazy week and more than a little disappointed. Rick was so sexy and so interested in me, but just the thought of being in a relationship with him again made me feel claustrophobic.
 

“I’m worried that you’re going to try to change me again,” I blurted out a block from my condo.

He glanced over at me. “I think you’re perfect, Diana,” he said with a smile.

“Yeah, right now,” I said. “But what about six months from now? What if this gets serious? Are you planning on moving to Annapolis?”

Rick pulled up to the curb in front of my condo. “I don’t know what will happen in six months. But if we got to that point, then I’m sure we would work it out,” he said reasonably.

“I’m afraid you’ll try to take over my life. Tell me to get a real job,” I said.

Rick stared straight ahead his hands on the steering wheel. “Well,” he said cautiously, like a man wading into alligator-infested waters. “What are your plans? Do you see yourself at fifty still playing in bars? What about children?” he asked.

“I can’t imagine not playing for an audience,” I said. “So, yes, I see myself playing in bars at fifty. And I definitely want kids.”

Rick rolled his eyes.

“I saw that Rick Ellis,” I said. “It’s driving you crazy. You’re thinking ‘she has a degree, why doesn’t she get a real job?’”

He turned to me. “I didn’t say that. You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“I’m going to continue to write songs and play out and look for opportunities to develop this into a full-time career. In case you didn’t know, my songs were featured in a TV series last summer. They were professionally produced,” I said.

“Oh, I know all about last summer,” he said. “Your songs were featured on a pilot that was never picked up and you had an affair with some B-rated actor.”

I shrieked. “I don’t know where you get your information from, but you are completely wrong! This date is over!” I jumped out of the car and crossed the lawn as fast as my high heels allowed.

He left the car running and followed me cursing all the way. “Jesus, Diana, slow down,” he said. He caught me at the door. “I’m sorry!” he said putting his hands on my shoulders and turning me to face him.
 

“This was a bad idea, Rick,” I said.
 

“No, we’re just going through a rough patch. It was a great evening,” he said.

I shook my head. “This isn’t going to work.”

“It has to work,” Rick said with passion. “Ever since I saw you again, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. He felt warm and safe. I let myself snuggle against him for just a moment. “I love you, Diana,” he said. “I never stopped loving you.”

I pulled away. How could this be happening? “You loved me at eighteen, but you don’t even know me now,” I said.

“Then let me get to know you now,” he entreated. “Give me another chance.”