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“So, what do you think?” Chandra asks when Anthony is out of sight, and Jeremy is talking actively with his friends. “He’s cute, right?”
“Yeah…” I down the rest of my pint. “And totally into himself. Maybe he should date a mirror.”
“Oh, c’mon. He’s not that bad. I thought you two were getting along. I heard you laughing.”
I give her an are-you-serious look. “I was laughing at him, not with him or beside him. There’s a total difference, and unfortunately, I don’t think he could tell.”
“Maybe he’s nervous. You can be a little intimidating sometimes.”
“Even if that were true, I haven’t had a chance to get a word in edgewise. He’s been talking about himself the entire time. I swear to all that is holy, if I hear about his father’s firm one more time, I might stab myself with a fork.” I assess the table. “Just my luck. No forks. Looks like I might have to beg you to poke me in the eye with your finger.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, truly remorseful. “I thought you two would hit it off. Honest. He’s never been like that before when I’ve spoken to him. He’s usually really great. Maybe he’s just had a bad day. You know how that is.”
“True.” I tap my glass with my fingernails. “I’ve had a pretty crappy one myself. Maybe I should call it a night before it gets worse and just go home.”
“At least stay for one more drink,” she insists, “and then I’ll go home with you.”
“I thought you were staying at Jeremy’s place tonight?”
“A girl has every right to change her mind,” she singsongs. “It’s our prerogative.”
“You’re such a dork.” I shake my head, laughing at her attempt to cheer me up. “One more drink.”
“Good.”
“I’m going to use the restroom and get a refill,” I say, emptying myself from the booth, holding the drained glass in my hand. “Do you want anything?”
“Sure,” she says, lifting her half-full pint. “Same as the last time would be great.”
“You got it.”
“And, EJ?” Chandra calls as I turn toward the rear of the bar. “I’ll be sure to…” She winks and gestures toward the vacant seat where Anthony was seated, indicating that she will help to take care of the narcissistic dickwad.
Thanks, I mouth.
Then, I head to the restroom, pausing only for a moment more when I spy Anthony heading back to our table. Sure, I’m avoiding him like a child afraid of clowns at a circus, but this guy is one freak show I’ve had enough of for a night.
After freshening up, I circle toward the bar and order a drink for Chandra and myself.
“Here you are,” the bartender says, sliding the beverages in my direction.
I pay the gal, leaving a generous tip because working around the holidays likely blows ass chunks, and I grab the two cold drinks. Turning around to walk back to where Chandra and Jeremy’s friends are seated, my attention is caught by a table of men hollering boisterously to my right. Three guys laughing and chanting while the fourth slams a shot glass and then places it in the middle of the table with a collection of other empties.
I recognize one of the laughers and chanters as my coworker.
Foster slaps the hard wooden surface in front of him and then shoots up from his seat before heading straight in my direction.
“Hey,” I say. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“EJ?” He squints his blue orbs behind his black frames. “Did you change your hair?”
“Yeah. Red. It was time for something new. No one wants to look like a snow cone for too long.”
“So, you splashed a little color onto yours. I got ya.”
He’s in a good mood tonight. I’m glad that someone is.
Foster sidles between the bar and me. “I thought you were in New York for the holiday weekend.”
