Page 5 of Tight End


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I wanted that honey mustard chicken sandwich, so I slipped through the crowd until I reached the empty table.

“Uh, ‘scuse me, ma’am? Don’t mean to bug you, but is anyone sitting here?”

“Well…” she began.

“I’m just getting a quick sandwich and a beer before heading out,” I quickly said. “So if you’re holding it for anyone, I’ll be gone before they get here.”

The woman had striking features. High cheekbones, round, innocent eyes, and hair that was so red it had to be dyed. She was a bombshell. She was so hot that smoke should have been coming off her skin. Especially the way she smiled at me warmly, like we were good friends.

But then the smile disappeared and she closed her eyes. “Fine. There’s no use holding it for a bunch of people who aren’t even going to show up. I really hate that, you know? People who pretend to be nice, but are totally two-faced. It’s not easy moving to a new city where you don’t know anyone. I just wanted to buy them a round of drinks. But I guess I can’t even bribe people to hang out with me.”

She sucked in her breath and let it out in a rush. Her eyes found me again and she said, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to rant. I’m just having one of those days where my positive attitude is running on fumes. You can sit, there’s plenty of room.”

She gestured at the other end of the table.

I wasn’t thinking about my food anymore, or the Jazz game that was starting in half an hour. All I could think about was this poor girl who was having a real shitty day. I didn’t know who had stood her up, but she was on the verge of tears because of it.

I couldn’t just walk away. And I couldn’t simply sit at the other end of the table and eat my meal while she was all alone. I was a gentleman. Leaving her alone wouldn’t be polite. And my momma always told me: manners are what make a man.

Little did I know, that decision would change my life forever.

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