Page 25 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

She pretended to think on it. “Fifty?”

I rolled my eyes. “Minus twenty.” I pulled the door open for her, and we stepped inside. I gazed around at the big wooden dance floor that had couples swinging about. The bar along the back wall was busy with customers, and barstools lined the dance floor like they were waiting for people to take a break from dancing.

“I’m impressed,” she said, tilting her chin up to speak closer to my ear. “Only thirty and in charge of an entire build.”

I didn’t like to brag, but I gave her what I felt comfortable saying. “I worked hard to get here.”

“I believe it,” she said.

We reached the bar, and I waited for her order before asking for a beer for myself. I reached into my back pocket to pay for our drinks, but the bartender said, “Henrietta and her friends don’t pay here.”

The guy turned away to make the drinks, and I gave her a questioning look.” Do you have a secret life I don't know about?”

She laughed, the sound music to my ears. “One of my best friend’s husbands owns the place.” She looked around. “He might be here, actually.”

“Oh, nice,” I said, glad that I was wearing decent clothes. When I’d gotten Henrietta’s text, I hadn’t even thought, just got up from my seat in the movie theater and ran.

For some reason, what Hen’s friends thought... it mattered to me.

“There he is,” she said.

She passed a glass full of beer to me, then held her mai tai and led me down the bar toward silver saloon doors. Standing near the end of the bar was an older guy in a dark green Collie’s shirt. He was fit, but his mostly brown hair was sprinkled with some silver streaks, especially around the temples.

He was talking to another employee in a green shirt but paused when he saw us, giving Hen a warm smile and me a calculating look.

Henrietta was definitely well-loved and protected, when her friends were around.

“Cohen,” Henrietta said, “this is my coworker, Tyler. Tyler, this is my best friend’s husband and the owner of this bar.”

He reached out to shake my hand and gave me an assessing smile. “I'm assuming you're here for a work meeting.”

I couldn't help but feel like I was taking my first girlfriend to prom and her dad was telling me to keep my hands to myself. I forced a chuckle and took a deep swig of my beer. I needed to calm all the rage that was still in my body. It was making me jumpy. If I ever came across that guy in a dark alley, I didn't know what I would do.

Henrietta explained, “Blind date gone wrong. Tyler kind of saved the day.”

Cohen seemed to loosen up a little at that. “Let’s turn your night around.”

Hen smiled. “Thanks, Cohen.”

He nodded. “How long have you been in town, Tyler?”

“Just a little over a week.” I said. “Hen’s been a lifesaver, showing me the ropes around the office and helping me get settled in.”

“How long are you here for?”

“Nine months,” I answered.

“Must suck being on the road all the time,” he said. “The guys and I play poker on Thursday nights if you need some people to hang out with.”

The thought of a regular poker night made me happier than I wanted to let on. Because guys just didn’t do giddy. But I did smile. “That sounds great.”

Henrietta offered to send me his number, then she said, “We’ll let you get to work, Cohen.”

He nodded, and we left him for a two-person table near the dance floor. She slid into her seat and took a deep drink of her mai tai, her eyes tracing the couples dancing.

“Do you dance?” I asked.

She gave me one of her shy grins. “I do the macarena with the best of them.”

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