Page 5 of It Started With a Scarf

He walked away, heading to the other end of the bar. There were two bartenders and they were both busy. I watched them for a moment, thinking I would be overwhelmed standing behind that counter with all these people looking at me, waiting to get my attention.

"Do you mind if I stand here and order a drink?" a guy asked, coming up behind me.

I turned and looked his way. He was older than me—in his mid to late thirties—handsome and dapper like so many of the gentlemen in this restaurant. I smiled noncommittally, scooting over a bit to give him room, and he squeezed in beside me.

"Have you ever come here before?" he asked, glancing at me. He turned and made casual eye contact with the bartender, nudging his chin before turning back to me. He did a double take, staring at me. "Do I know you?" he asked. "Those eyes. You're a pretty lady, I hope you don't mind me saying that."

I pulled back and looked at him. He was young, rich, and handsome. "I work in retail, so maybe," I said, feeling a little reluctant and thinking that might put a stop to his advances.

He looked me over with an appraising stare. He smiled and looked down at me, puffing out his chest. He seemed to have gained confidence, and I knew I had made a mistake by telling him my position in life. No offense to rich, handsome men, but… never mind… this guy was just a little pushy. I didn't care for his demeanor and the way he was looking at me.

"Retail, huh? Like clothing?"

"Yeah, clothing."

"What kind? What's the name of the place, and I'll come see you at work. I'm rich, you know. I have three cars. I'll pick you up in the Bentley."

"I ride the bus, and it's all good," I said with a shrug. I needed to stop talking. I was giving him too many honest details. I stared at the bar, not making eye contact with him.

"If you ride the bus, then you really need me to pick you up from work."

"What can I get for you, Mr. McDaniel?"

"I'll have that Blue Label, a double, and whatever the lady's having."

"I've got mine," I insisted casually. The stranger glanced at me, and I smiled. "Thank you, though."

"What are you having there? A Tom Collins?"

"No, it's just a soda."

"What, if I might ask, is a lady like you doing sitting by yourself?"

He looked me over with interest. I wasn't going to say that I was applying for a job. In fact, I was pretty sure I was not going to work at this place, anyway.

The bartender slid Mr. McDaniel his drink, and he took it with a nod. He took a sip of it and turned to gaze at me like he was about to get comfortable right where he was standing—inches from me.

"So, back to my question… what's a nice young lady doing here by herself?"

"I'm, uh, meeting with a friend of mine," I said, reluctant to mention the interview.

"Oh, so you're not by yourself? Is this friend a man?"

"As it happens, he is."

He smirked at me and cocked his head to the side. He was dripping with confidence—oozing with it. I normally didn't mind it when a guy was confident in the right ways and for the right reasons… but this guy. His confidence was off-putting. I gave him a fake smile and glanced downward, at the bar—wishing for a way out.

I peered around the bar, hoping to see Tom. I prayed he would finish whatever he was doing and come save me from this conversation. I glanced around the room briefly before staring at the bar again.

I took a deep breath.

There had been a guy—a man.

I saw him when I glanced.

He was sitting at a table by himself, and I had made eye contact with him for a brief second before looking away again. He had been smiling at me and wearing a kind expression. I saw honesty in his eyes, even from across the room. I wondered if he was still looking at me, and I glanced at him again.

Yes.

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