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“My goodness, baby,” she drawled through a raspy voice, “has anyone ever told you that you look just like a young Rob Lowe? I mean, it’s uncanny.” She turned to look back at the dark-haired man she’d just left at the bar who looked as confused as I felt. “Otto, doesn’t he look just like Sodapop Curtis?”
“Oh, well now—” Leo began to say, but the woman cut him off, flushed with obvious excitement.
“I swear my Otto and I watch The Outsiders at least a dozen times a year—it’s our favorite movie. Your hair’s a little lighter, but heavens-to-betsy you look just like him!” She turned to me, eyes broadening in surprise like she didn’t notice me standing here before. “Is this your lady? Wow, isn’t she somethin’. You better lock her down quick if you haven’t already—you two would have the most incredible babies.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks.
“Leave those poor people alone, Marge—you’re gonna scare ’em off,” Otto yelled from the bar.
“Oh hush, I’m bein’ friendly!” she called.
Leo’s hand lifted and I felt his fingers wind through my hair as a laugh rumbled out of him. “Thank you for such lovely and kind words—Marge, is it?” Marge nodded vigorously. “You know, the moment I saw you I thought of a young Goldie Hawn.”
Marge’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “Oh my word, young man, you’ve just made my night! Please, let us buy you both a drink.”
“Marge!” Otto called again.
“What?” she hollered. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of somethin’ over here? I mean, good lord almighty—look at this beautiful couple, don’t they remind you of a younger version of us?”
Otto grunted, and Leo’s smile brightened as he squeezed me to him. “Marge, you are too kind. And while I sincerely appreciate your offer, we’ll have to respectfully take a rain check on those drinks because this is our first date, and I feel inclined to take care of everything tonight so I can give this beautiful woman next to me one for the books.”
Marge gasped. “A first date? My goodness gracious, look at me gettin’ all caught up in your business. Please just ignore this old bird and you kids have yourselves a wonderful evenin’ together.” Her brow furrowed for a moment as she looked at Leo carefully. “Wait, you brought her here? Son, there are plenty of better places than this ol’ stink house.”
Leo didn’t skip a beat. “You know, Mara has a moral objection to chain restaurants, and I didn’t want her to be too uncomfortable. Plus she’s a bartender, so I figured she’d appreciate the charm of a shitty place like this.”
A loud laugh burst out of me as Marge’s eyes twinkled. “Aw, what a good boy you are for puttin’ her needs first.” She looked at me and made a big show of winking. “You caught yourself a good one, hon.”
My eyes were wet with laughter. “Thanks, Marge. Jury’s still out if he’s relationship material, though.”
Marge nodded her understanding as Leo tugged tightly on a lock of my hair, making me laugh again.
“Well, I’ll let you kids enjoy your evenin’. Otto and I are rootin’ for ya!”
“Thank you, Marge,” Leo smoothly replied before waving his free hand at Otto. “Have a great night!”
Otto lifted his beer, tilting it toward us.
Marge returned to her man as I led mine toward an empty high-top, smiling wide as I whispered under my breath, “The charm of a shitty place like this?”
Leo finally unfastened his hand from my body to pull one of the tall stools out for me. “Only the best for my girl.”
“So.” Leo eyed me with a playful expression after the bartender—an ancient man who looked at us like we spoke a foreign language—dropped off a round of beers. “Tell me about yourself, Mara.”
I snorted. “Okay wait, that’s not honestly how you start off a first date, is it?”
His eyes sharpened. “Excuse me, I didn’t realize we were doing that.”
“Doing what? Asking questions?”
“Judging each other’s first-date game.” He threw me a pointed look.
I laughed and flicked my hair over my shoulder. “When you start a conversation with something as canned and distant as ‘tell me about yourself,’ it’s kind of hard not to have opinions.”
“It’s a fair question!”
“It’s boring.”
“You know why I like it?” He lifted his beer to his lips and tipped the amber liquid into his mouth. Garth Brooks’s “The Dance” started playing from the jukebox, and I turned to find Marge standing next to it with quarters in her hands, shooting me another wink. She’d already cornered Leo once more as he briefly left me to use the restroom, whispering something in this ear that caused him to bark out a laugh that reverberated against the walls. “It gives you the opportunity to tell me anything you want,” Leo continued. “Keeps you in control when things are awkward at the beginning. It’s non-specific. Low stakes. Non-threatening.”
