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“Sure,” she said. “We can do that.”
Then Patrick headed toward the Mayor leaving Ant alone in the middle of the dance floor.
She took a look around. To her left was a waitress passing crab puffs. She didn’t need to taste them to tell that they were soggy. They were sinking in the middle and there was a hefty grease stain on the paper doily beneath each one. She thought she might serve crab in some form at her new place, but hadn’t settled on how.
Crab cakes? Maybe. People did like crab cakes. J
ust a cold crab cocktail? Great with a crisp white wine or, even better, bubbles. Maybe a crab toast, Asian style? Still a work in progress.
In front of her, just off to the right was a couple dancing. They must have been close to eighty years old, and, from the looks of it, still completely in love, still happy. The woman in a gold dress and clunky shoes. Her pantyhose bunching up around her ankles. The man in a black suit and bow tie, smiling from ear to ear as he danced with his best gal.
In contrast there were her parents. Standing just outside the tent. Toe to toe, arguing with each other, over who knows what. She saw Patrick approach them and say something that her dad really didn’t like. A few more words and a few more head shakes and her parents finally gave up. Ant saw them follow him back toward the Mayor.
She looked in Romeo’s direction. He was working hard and moving fast, only stopping once in awhile to crack a joke or kid with a customer. He didn’t look too worse for wear to her, too broken up about things. In fact, he didn’t look too upset about anything at all really. Well, well, well, she thought.
Ant felt pretty alone, standing there, in the middle of the crowded dance floor, surrounded by people. It’s amazing how ironic a situation that can be. Feeling totally alone when you’re totally not.
Finally she moved. She worked her way through the crowd and over to the bar where she ordered herself a glass of white wine. They only had one. A depressingly overoaked California chardonnay. “It figures,” she said out loud. Though there was no one there to hear her.
While the party swang, Tyler drove on. He had driven to the outskirts of town, out onto the main highway and over to the shopping district. Home to the big box stores, the retail chains, and all your shopping needs.
He grabbed a spot, shut down his car, slammed the door behind him and walked into the Pet Shop, a growing large scale chain dedicated to the home pet enthusiast. Need a leash for your dog? They got it. Hamster food? They got it. A quick replacement for your kid’s pet turtle that you accidentally flushed down the sink? They got that too.
“Hi can I help you?” asked a perky seventeen year old with a ponytail and braces. The name on her red vest said Kitty.
“I wanna buy one hundred rats,” Tyler said, smiling broadly.
“Rats?”
“Yeah rats.”
“Why would you want so many rats?”
“What difference does it make why?”
“Okay okay, I was just asking.”
“How much?”
“Nothing.”
“Really? What, they’re free?”
“No. They cost nothing because we don’t have any rats.”
“Well, what about mice? Do you have any mice?”
“Yes we do.”
“Then give me a hundred. ”
“Uh, I think we have five.”
“Nope I sold one this morning,” said a pimply faced guy who looked a little too old to have a pimply face, as he walked past them. The name on his red vest said Tigger.
“We have four,” confirmed the girl.
“Four?!”
