Page 11 of The Slapshot and the Single Mom
That seems to stop her in her tracks, and she does the fish-face thing again, opening and closing her mouth. After a moment, she looks away, sips her drink, and clears her throat. “A movie doesn’t seem much more exciting than spending an evening in a bar, though, does it?”
I shrug. “Well, it’s participating in broader culture at least. If you want something less popular, I know a spot that plays arthouse films.” She wrinkles her nose at that suggestion, and I laugh. “Okay. Not that. We could just wander around and see if anything catches our attention. Or, like I said, pick a movie and go to that.”
She drains the rest of her beer and sets the glass down with a definitive thump. “Let’s try the walking around suggestion. If we can’t find anything by the time we’re tired of wandering, we can pick a movie. Sound good?”
I grin. “Sounds perfect.” Abandoning my beer, I signal to Ryan that I’m ready to close my tab and add her drinks to mine.Maggie acts like she’s about to object, but when I skewer her with a look, she subsides with a smile I can’t quite interpret. Sort of resigned, but also like she might be planning something. Revenge? That seems like too strong of a word for paying for her drink. So, maybe just payback.
Fat chance.
While Ryan runs my card, I head over to Connor to let him know I’m taking off.
“Dude,” he says before I can get a word out, eyes dancing, “I thought this was supposed to be a low-key night where we just have bro time and hang out. No clubs. No picking up chicks. And here you are …” He nods toward Maggie. “Don’t know how you managed that here, but props to you.” He lifts his drink in a mock toast.
“Shut up, Con. It’s not like that.”
He snorts. “Suuuure. I’m the con. Keep telling yourself that.”
“Thanks for coming out with me.” That provokes another snort, and I shake my head. “Fine. Fuck you too, then.”
He smacks my arm. “That’s my boy. You two kids have fun, but, y’know, nottoomuch fun.” As I walk away, he sing-songs loudly, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
Maggie greets me with an arched eyebrow. “How low of a bar is that?”
“It’s in the basement of a tavern in Hades,” I grumble, and that makes her laugh out loud, which has me smiling. At least I can make her laugh. That’s a start.
My hand goes to the small of her back as I escort her to the door. She casts a sideways glance my way and deftly moves in front of me, ostensibly to fit between tables, but I take the hint and put my hand in my pocket.
Once outside, I glance down at her feet. She has on cushy looking flip-flops. Perfect for walking through the city.
“Oh, you know what?” she says, turning to face me, hands clasped under her chin in a way that’s girlishly adorable.
“What?” I prompt, grinning at her.
She narrows her eyes suspiciously, and I widen mine in response. Dropping her hands, she looks away. “Never mind. It’s silly.”
“No, it isn’t,” I immediately contradict.
A surprised laugh bursts out of her, and she looks at me again. “How would you know? You don’t even know what it is.”
I shrug. “It’s not silly to want to do something. If it’s a thing that exists, and I’m guessing it is, other people probably like doing it too. Just tell me, and we can do it.”
Her mouth hooks to the side, and she gives me another sideways look before studying the passing traffic. I almost don’t hear her answer over the noise of the city. “You know those paint and sip places? I’ve always thought that looked like fun. But, well …” She lifts her hands and lets them fall again, darting a glance my way. “It’s silly, isn’t it? You don’t want to do that. Let’s, uh … let’s go find a movie theater. We can just do that. It’s fine.”
“What? Absolutely not.” I pull out my phone. “We can drink and paint and see who’s a better artist.” I quickly search for a placeto do that. “Look, there’s one that just started a few minutes ago, and it’s not far from here. If we hurry, I bet they’ll let us join.”
Eyes wide, she bites her lip, looking anxious. “What if it’s sold out?”
Placing my hand on her back again, I urge her in the direction of the paint and sip place. “It’ll be fine. I’m sure there’ll be room for us.” And if there’s not, I’m not above using my celebrity status to get my way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Maggie
Jack’s handfalls away from my back once we get moving in the right direction, and I’m both relieved and bummed by that. I’m confused by everything that’s happened since I bumped into him, really. This is not how my evening was supposed to go.
My plan was to go out, have a drink or two, watch whatever sports were on in the bar, go home, clean my bathroom, fold some laundry, and feel sad and adrift without the usual anchors and routines that give my life structure and get me from one day to the next.
No part of my night included bumping into Jack Bouchard, much less having him hijack my night and ask me what I want to do with it. I would’ve been offended at his characterization of my plans for the evening as a waste, except deep down I agree. Sitting in a bar by myself watching sports is a waste of an evening, even if it’s a step above cleaning, which I was still probably going to do anyway.
