We were grunted at and I took a deep breath and another glance around. As fellow New Yorker, Peter Parker, might have said, my spidey-sense was tingling. It was dark inside the bar; despite the fact it was only six o’clock in the evening and the sun was still shining brightly outside. Other than us, there were two groups of men. One bunch sitting in the deepest corner of the room, receiving table service, clearly regulars, and the others; younger – around college age – playing pool on the opposite side. They were being very loud, laughing and jeering at each other over the clack of the balls, which told me they were either drunk or nervous themselves at being in this claustrophobic dive bar…or both. I was the only woman and I was glad I’d dressed down.
‘In fact…’ I folded my arms on the edge of the bar, ignoring the way my skin stuck to whatever lingered on its surface, and leaned closer to Stephen, dropping my voice. ‘My gut feeling is,he’s already here, watching us. He might not tell us he’s here at all.’
‘Oh joy. This sounds like a fantastic use of time.’ Stephen shook his head and handed the bartender some money to cover our drinks, telling him to keep the change before returning to our conversation. ‘Thatwassarcasm, in case you were wondering.’
‘Are you always this grumpy after work or is this a special mood for my benefit?’
He gave me a look from the corner of his eye and took a drink from his glass. I guessed that answered that. I pulled a clip out of my bag so I could put my hair up and stop watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in the strong column of his throat as he swallowed. I was uncomfortably aware of the way he was able to sit on the bar stool and still have his feet touch the floor, in comparison to how I was perched up high, balancing on it like a toddler. And the way his suit pants hugged his thighs because of the angle of his long legs.
Conversation evaporated between us as we sat side by side in the muggy bar. A solitary fan, which the bartender spent most of his time blocking with his barrel chest, occasionally moved the air near me as I sipped at my stout. I hated tense silences, especially when I couldn’t figure out why it was so tense. Was it all because of the phone calls and the poster? Was it because he felt on edge in this dodgy bar? Or was it because he was doing what I asked by not flirting and without that repertoire he was basically uninterested in talking to women?
My cell rang and I almost cheered with delight. It was Tim. Which was odd as he never really called me. We tended to communicate through funny memes and videos on WhatsApp and saved actual conversations for family gatherings.
‘Everything OK?’ I answered.
‘Yeah, great,’ Tim all but yelled over the noise in the background. I tried to turn the volume down a little so no one else could hear him.
‘You at a bar?’
‘Yeah. Work drinks. Listen. This new guy started at my firm and he said he’s up for meeting you.’
‘Huh?’
‘The blind date, like we talked about.’
‘Tim. No. I didnotsay I wanted you to set me up on a blind date,’ I whispered furiously down the phone at him.
‘Why not? Honestly, he seems solid. And he’s got all his teeth.’
‘I don’t care. I can get my own dates.’ I could feel Stephen watching me and it was torture. I needed to get Tim off the phone immediately.
‘Lemme just ask him your questions. If he gets them right will you go out with him?’
‘No, don’t do that.’
‘C’mon. Send them over to me and I’ll vet him, if that’s what you need.’
‘Are you coming to Daisy’s softball thing on Sunday?’ I asked him.
‘No, I gotta go with Delia to visit her family.’
‘Right, I’ll see you back home the following weekend for the barbecue, then.’
‘But—’
I hung up on him. I wasn’t proud of it, but it sounded like he was drunk anyhow. I reached for my own drink and risked a glance at Stephen. He was still watching me, with a little smirk on his face.
‘Do you have a checklist for people you’re considering dating?’ he asked. ‘How does the interviewing process work? Doyouanswer the questions for them based on your first impressionsor do your prospective dates get an opportunity to answer for themselves?’
I took a couple of sips of my half-pint and licked the froth from my lips, trying to summon up the same blasé attitude I used to deflect teasing from my siblings.
‘Everybody has a checklist. They may not admit it, but we all have criteria when we’re deciding who it’s worth spending our time with.’
‘I can’t recall ever using a checklist to make that kind of judgement about a woman.’
‘Why bother waste the time when you could be jumping straight into bed with whoever is willing?’ I crossed my legs. ‘I meant everyone who’s looking for ameaningfulrelationship rather than a one-night stand assesses the other person’s viability.’
‘I don’t only have one-night stands, you know.’
