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“Stop being obtuse,” I say. Though I do take a second to admire the dimple in his cheek that is, in fact, panty-melting. “It’s more than women. Guys want to be your friend. You talked to the bowling alley owner for a half hour when we got here today. And I’m pretty sure you didn’t know him prior to that. So what is it?”
Max shrugs while taking another sip of his beer. I don’t know why, but I get a whiff of his subtle cologne, and I feel it over every inch of my body. “I don’t know how I do it, exactly. I do know that I’ve been a ham since I was born. There are stories about how I winked at the nurse in the delivery room. I’m pretty sure that’s a lie but the legend has lived in me for thirty years. I was the class clown that the teachers could never really punish because I’d smile my way out of it.”
“So this is just Max,” I say.
“I guess so,” he says. “But it wasn’t until I started singing that I realized making people happy, or making them smile, or having a crowd engage with you, was something I needed to survive. It drove me. It’s almost like an addiction.”
“I can see that,” I say. “But it’s all the time. I’ve watched you do it on stage. At the bar. And now here. Is this just who you are?”
He nods. “You’re right. Every part of me is like that. But, I do think there are different parts of me that only certain people get.”
Well, that’s intriguing. “How so?”
“Well, when I’m on stage, you get Maxwell Beauregard, aspiring country music star. Behind the bar you get Max, flirty bartender, who is willing to flash his dimples and engage in a little conversation for some tips.”
I knew Max was more than the bartender or the singer I’ve watched perform a few times, but in all the years we’ve known each other, I think this is the most real I’ve ever seen him.
“And what about now?” I ask. “Who’s sitting here now?”
He looks over to me, a small smile on his face. “This is Beau.”
Now I’m confused. “Who’s Beau?”
He smiles. “That’s the real me. That’s the name that I went by for twenty-five years, before I came to Nashville. That’s the kid who left Jackson, Mississippi, with a guitar and a dream and came to Nashville.”
Wow. That’s not what I was expecting. But at the same time, it makes sense. Why his smiles are different. Why he acts certain ways around certain people.
“How do you act around me?”
I don’t know where that question came from, but at this moment, with Max looking at me in a way he never has before, I need the answer more than anything.
He smiles and leans in a little closer. “Beau. Always Beau.”
* * *
Max:
So we need to finalize our story.
Andi:
Yes. Because when people ask us “how did we meet,” we need to say the same thing.
Max:
Well, at the bar. That works.
Andi:
Yes. As much as we can keep to real life as possible.
Max:
So after you and Fuckwad broke up, you came into the bar. As you do. And I asked you out because I’ve been wanting to for years but you were taken. But this was my chance, and I took it. Somehow you said yes. The rest is history.
Andi:
That’s easy enough to remember. Do you think people will buy it? Is it truthful enough?
