Page 91 of Love Undecided
“Well, not exactly. I mean I’m probably the person you think I am, but I can’t see the future like what you're thinking. I can just get a feeling sometimes about what might happen. But it doesn’t happen all the time and I can’t really control it.”
“Can you see my future?”
“Well, that’s part of the part that I can’t really control.”
“Then how’d you help the cops catch that killer?”
“I keep wondering the same thing,” I mumble.
He moves down the bar to help a new patron and I sit there intermittently putting peanuts directly in my mouth or tossing them in the air and trying to catch them in my mouth. I’m five for five with catching them in my mouth so far. Parlor tricks and bar games are my specialty. I spent a lot of time in bars as a criminal defense attorney.
Mr. Soft Eyes the Bartender comes back. “So, you’re her, huh?”
Didn't we already cover this?
“I guess I am.”
“But you can’t tell my future?”
“Not really, no.”
“Hmmph. Want more peanuts?”
I nod my head in response.
Maybe his eyes aren’t so soft after all. I pour my entire heart out to him, looking for some sort of guidance and advice about my life and all he cares about is his future.
Then I laugh at the irony.
I’m on my third bourbon and probably my fourth bowl of peanuts, when I start to wonder where the hell Lexie and Remi are. I say as much to the older guy nursing a beer a few stools down. He just looks at me.
“What part do they not understand about emergency 911?” I ask a little slurrily. I hold up my phone to make sure I’m still getting reception, squinting slightly at the glowing screen.
“They really need better lighting in here,” I tell him. He just looks at me.
“Not a big talker, huh? No biggie. I’m a talker enough for both of us. I’d really like to be talking to my girls right now, but they aren’t here yet and I don’t know what’s taking them so long. I texted them forever ago.” He continues to look at me.
“If they don’t get here soon, I’m gonna have to start talking to you.” I point at him and giggle.
“And I’m pretty sure you don’t want to hear what I have to say. Nope. 'Cause, it’s about a boy. Well, a man. A fireman to be exact. But I like to say boy in the same way I like to say puppy. You know? Like all dogs are puppies and all men are boys. Except for Brad, he’s a man. Oh and my last drunk fuck, he’s a man too. And so is Bauer. Jack Bauer. Twenty-four.”
I start laughing again.
“Get it? Jack Bauer? Twenty-four?”
He just looks at me.
“Oh pashaw!” I flick my hand at him.
I look at my phone again. “He keeps calling you know. Sexy Ex. Not Jack Bauer. 'Twenty-four’.” I laugh at my hilarious joke again.
“And I just keep hitting ignore. Boop! Just like that. Boop! And the call is gone. Sent off to never-never land. Boop!”
The older guy just continues to stare as he drinks his beer.
“Cheers!” I say, raising my glass to him. At that he raises his glass ever so slightly in my direction.
“Ha!” I say, feeling victorious that I finally got his attention.
