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Stella clinks my glass. “I was thinking. I think Fifi needs a friend. You’re going to be busy learning the bar business and then school. It would be good for her to have a dog companion so she doesn’t get lonely or bored.” Stella leans across the table conspiratorially. “I know these things because I work for a vet.”
“You’re a receptionist,” Dixie reminds her.
“I still know what I’m talking about.”
Fifi is currently behind the bar with Nash right now. They are both watching the game. I don’t know what game. I can’t keep them all straight. But Fifi likes to watch the action on the screen, something I never knew she liked until we moved here. “I can’t take care of two dogs right now.”
“Nash could use a dog.”
Dixie looks over her shoulder. “It looks like Nash has a dog.”
I shrug, trying not to feel a little hurt that Fifi likes him so well. “We’ll be leaving in a few months.”
Stella claps her hands together. “Then I shall start working on this immediately. No, actually, the moon is void of course until tomorrow morning. I’ll do it after. Void moon is terrible for dog matching.”
“What is void moon?” Dixie asks.
Stella’s eyes light up. She must really like the moon. “So, you guys know the moon has phases, right? Full moon, new moon, waxing and waning.” We nod. “Well, she also moves through each zodiac sign. Void of Course means she’s transitioning in the sky between signs—but isn’t in either. It’s a really good time to do self-care and inner work, but I try not to match anything or sell anything too hard during a void moon. Things just lack oomph.”
“That’s interesting. I don’t know much about moon phases, but I know my grandfather got a lot more restless during a full moon the last few months.” They both pat my arms and I’m overcome by the reassuring touch. Touch is not something I’ve had a lot of in my life. I don’t want to cry or garner their pity. “Anyway, I don’t think Nash wants a dog.”
“Nash doesn’t always know what’s good for him. That’s why it’s a good thing he’s got me for a friend.”
Nash wanders over about ten minutes later. “Last call, ladies.”
“Dude,” Stella looks at her phone, “It’s 8:30. What kind of bar closes at 8:30?”
“I need my beauty rest,” he tells her and starts picking up chairs.
“Well, that’s certainly true. But still, you could hire actual people to work and keep the place open until a reasonable time.”
He picks up her glass. “You done with this?”
I push away from the table, saying goodbye, and go get the broom. While I sweep, Nash does the other closing procedures. I turn off ESPN and turn the radio on. A Frank Sinatra song comes on, and memories of my grandfather make me smile. A kind of watery smile, but it’s good to remember him. Boy, did he love Frank Sinatra.
Nash takes my broom, and I’m suddenly whisked into his arms. He starts dancing me around the tables, and I stiffen for just a moment before I relax, cotillion practice coming back to me. “Where did you learn to dance like this?”
“My high school football coach made us take ballroom dancing lessons in the off season.”
“That’s amazing.”
He shrugs. “It’s really good for coordination.”
I don’t think he needs any help with coordination. He seems to know how to use his hands and his body, and dancing is making me think of the kind of sex I’ve never had. The kind I didn’t think I ever wanted. The kind that his arrogance and good looks probably excel at.
He flashes me a smile. A simply devastating smile. “Are you thinking naughty thoughts right now, Gertrude?”
“I don’t have naughty thoughts.”
“I somehow doubt that is true.”
I shake my head. “I’m not like most women my age. I never have been.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I exhale loudly. I really don’t want to have this conversation with him. But maybe it’s best to just get it out there. “I’m just not sexual.”
He snorts on a laugh. “Sure you are.” I try to pull out from his embrace, mortified that he’s laughing at me, but he tightens his arms. “Did someone tell you that you shouldn’t be sexual?”
