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“If you show up in anything but a pink dress, so help me God, Lake,” Beth yells jokingly across the parking lot and I laugh, sliding in the driver's seat of my car.
2
I SMELL RAIN
A Change Would Do You Good by Sheryl Crow
The drive to Tempe isn’t so bad being opposite of rush hour traffic. The problem is finding parking in a college town that’s meant for walking or biking. I must admit that I’m looking forward to having a nice dinner with Georgie. After the week I’ve had, and that dress, I deserve a nice evening out.
The restaurant is a few blocks over, and even with the setting sun, the heat is oppressive, like a thick blanket, and I can already feel sweat collecting at the small of my back. In the distance, heat rises from the asphalt causing bright wavy lines like a mirage.
The clouds behind the high rises are an unnaturally vibrant mix of pinks and oranges, casting reflections in the windows of nearby office buildings as the sun sets. Mill Avenue is teeming with college students back from the summer. Music filters onto the street from nearby restaurants and local music venues. By the time I get to Diablo’s I’m already sticky with sweat. When I pull open the door, the cranked a/c hits me, feeling like heaven.
Looking around for Georgie, I notice she’s not here yet, so I settle for a seat at the bar and order a drink while I wait. ASU colors of deep maroon and brilliant gold adorn the walls. Sun Devils merchandise and framed jerseys hang on the wall, along with pictures of the football stadium when it was first being built.
All of the TVs in the restaurant are tuned to various sports games, but I have no idea who they are, nor do I care. Although the rest of the patrons in the restaurant seem to care when I hear loud cheering from a few tables nearby.
The place isn’t that crowded yet since it’s still early, and it doesn’t take long for the bartender to set the martini I ordered in front of me.
“Ever get to see them in concert?” he asks over the noise. He’s a nice-looking man, a little younger than me, with dark hair slicked back. When he smiles, the lines next to his eyes crinkle.
For a moment I’m confused until he points to the t-shirt I’m wearing. Looking down, I remember what I’m wearing. It’s a vintageAerosmitht-shirt from theToys In The Atticera, way before my time, but I’m still able to appreciate it. I hate to wash it, because one of these days it’ll disintegrate in the machine.
“Long time ago,” I say, taking a sip of my drink, not really interested in making small talk with him, but he seems nice.
“Great band in their prime,” he says while making another drink, his attention still clearly on me.
I honestly can’t remember the last time I saw a concert; probably before Noelle was born and I was still in my early twenties.
“Still are,” I say, cocking my head to the side. He smiles disbelievingly and I take another sip of my drink. If he thinks he’s going to win me over by taking shots at my favorite band, he’s mistaken.
“If you like music, you should check out theTap Roomdown the street. They have a great cover band that plays on the weekends,” he offers while pouring tequila in a margarita glass.
“I am well aware of theTap Room,” I say, crossing my legs and resting my arm on the bar top as I check the door for Georgie.
“You’ve been?” he asks, still trying to make conversation.
“Long time ago,” I say, leaving it at that.
I haven’t been to theTap Roomsince I graduated college. This area keeps reinventing itself every few years, and places I used to go to are all gone, but not theTap Room. The low-key brick building has stayed the same and stands strong even back to when my dad went to ASU in the seventies. It has a reputation – an infamous one at that. A lot of great bands have played there, but I’ve lost touch over the years while raising my daughter and nurturing my career.
As soon as the bartender is done delivering a drink a few seats down, he settles back in front of me, resting his forearms against the wood, sleeves rolled up.
“Maybe one of these weekends when I’m off, you’d want to check it out with me?” he asks expectantly.
I take a drink of my martini and level my eyes on him. “I said I was aware of it, not that I’d want to go there,” I say, then add, “with you”.
Scoffing, he seems to think I’m trying to play hard to get, but it’s actually the opposite. Before he can protest, Georgie interrupts by giving me a hug.
“I’ve missed you,” she says, all smiles, still in her multi-colored animal print scrubs.
Sensing that she’s interrupted something when she lets go, she looks between me and the bartender.
“I’ll let the hostess know to get your table ready,” he says and walks away.
“Are you scaring off men already?” she teases, looking down at the watch on her wrist. “It’s only seven o’clock.”
“The night is young, Georgie, just wait,” I say teasingly, lifting my martini glass in front of her before taking a lavish sip.
