Page 3 of Almost Dating
Chapter Two
Barry walked into Garner’s Sports Bar & Grill on Thursday night, Ladies’ Night, as he always did—with fresh breath and great hope.
He always walked out with a slight buzz and a couple of wrong numbers in his pocket.
Tonight started out no different. He chatted up a couple of pretty ladies sitting on his right, unsure which one to give special attention to, but then it turned out it didn’t matter as they moved on to grab some dinner, bidding him goodbye.
He sipped his beer and soldiered on, giving himself a little pep talk. He was a catch if anyone took the time to get to know him. Sure he didn’t have movie-star good looks or huge muscles (no fat either), but he owned his own business, had plenty of money socked away in the bank thanks to a hugely successful app he’d sold to one of the big guys, and had a handful of investments. His app, Giggle Snap, was a social media phenomenon focused on sharing sounds—laughter, conversation, and sound effects. Some of the stuff people came up with to share was hilarious. His favorite was a growly, old man reading flowery poetry he wrote himself. With a one-minute limit on the sound, sometimes the old man had to speed up at the end, which was even funnier. (DewdropsfromyourlipsIdotastemysweet.) Other people were into the fart noises.
He’d made enough money from Giggle Snap to quit his old job. Opening The Dancing Cow had just been for fun. Besides all that great stuff, he always had fresh breath. He huffed into his hand to check. Yup, still had the good stuff. Maybe a little beery now. He popped a breath mint and prepared to regroup.
He did a casual scan of the bar and noticed Tattoo Guy approach a woman with long black hair and lay a big, wet one on her. Barry stiffened. He’d wanted Pink Hair all to himself, but not this way. Not with her getting cheated on. He narrowed his eyes. He should say something. Let Tattoo Guy know he was onto him.
He took a sip of beer for courage. Tattoo Guy did have a lot of muscles.
He’ll crush you.
Maybe Tattoo Guy and Pink Hair weren’t exclusive. That would work out even better for Barry. He wouldn’t have to tell her that her boyfriend was cheating on herandshe’d still go out with him. Minutes ticked by. He sipped and watched as Tattoo Guy proceeded to run his hand up and down the woman’s ass, occasionally stopping to lay another deep-throated kiss on her.
Tattoo Guy suddenly looked up and met Barry’s eyes, nearly causing him to topple off his bar stool. Barry quickly averted his gaze and grabbed a handful of pretzels, concentrating on removing every bit of salt from each pretzel. They really should offer pretzels in two varieties—salted and unsalted.
A beefy hand landed on Barry’s shoulder, and something approaching a squeak emitted from the depths of his terrified soul.Cool it! This is a public place. Lots of witnesses to prevent a homicide from occurring.
Barry cleared his throat. “H-hi, Tat—I mean, h-how are you?”
“I know you,” Tattoo Guy said in his face. He had the worst cigarette-beer breath. Barry immediately switched to breathing through his mouth.
“I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” Barry held out his hand. “I’m Barry.”
Tattoo Guy gripped his hand, crushing his fingers. “You never saw me here.”
“No,” he gasped out.
Tattoo Guy released his hand and clapped him on the back, nearly sending him into the bar. “Enjoy your beer.”
Yeah, like he could enjoy his beer now. He sat there for a few minutes just so Tattoo Moron wouldn’t think he was the reason Barry was leaving, and headed home. When he arrived at his door, he glanced across the hall at Pink Hair’s door, wishing he had some excuse to talk to her so he could tell her to dump that asshole. He walked over and put his ear up to her door. Sounded like she was watching TV.
Why tell her about her cheating boyfriend? So you can have her?
That stopped him. He wasn’t going to hurt the woman just to further his own agenda. With a resigned sigh, he let himself into his quiet apartment. He just wished there was something he could do to alleviate her inevitable, crushing pain when she found out the man she slept with was two-timing her.
Then he had a great idea.
~ ~ ~
Amber Lewis was in the zone. She had her fave TV show,Zombie Bonanza, on DVD in the background while she painted with watercolors on a canvas she’d prepared the night before with a swirling, pale blue background. She applied wet paint on wet paint to achieve a suffused color of yellow and red mixing together. Today she painted fire—flames shooting across the canvas, highlighted by the pale blue. She mostly created abstracts and considered herself a watercolor artist first, an elementary school art teacher second. The latter by necessity.
She added a few flaring finishing touches and leaned back to take it in. Not bad. She’d add it to next week’s listing on eArt. She hadn’t sold a single piece off the independent artists’ website, but she was always hopeful that one day her work would be appreciated, and she’d be on her way to financial independence.
She stood and stretched her back, noticing some small papers lying on the floor by the front door. That was odd. She walked over to investigate. They were coupons. Ten percent off frozen yogurt at The Dancing Cow. She’d heard of the fro-yo place at the edge of town though she’d never stopped by. She’d heard it was overpriced, and on her teacher’s salary, she contented herself with occasional binges of ice cream at Shane’s Scoops. It must’ve been some sales guy sticking these under everyone’s door.
She went to throw them out, and one of the coupons fluttered to the ground. She squatted down and picked it up. There was a picture of a guy in a cow costume, and for some reason he looked familiar. She studied it. What a geek! Dressing up like a cow. Wait a minute. She did know this guy. It was her new neighbor across the hall. She headed across the hall, intending to introduce herself and then explain she didn’t appreciate him littering her floor with advertisements.
She knocked on his door, and a moment later it swung open. The man—tall, lean, and wearing a green Hawaiian shirt—beamed at her.
“Pink Hair!” he exclaimed.
She found herself smiling back. With his rumpled, in-need-of-a-haircut, dirty blond hair, brown eyes, stubble, and lopsided smile, he was appealing in a boy-next-door kind of way. Which was perfect since he was literally next door.
