Page 3 of Cookout Carnage
I clap my hand on his shoulder, push my empty wine glass back on the bar and try to walk away.
The fancy British dude speaks again and I stop and turn back to him.
“You obsessively check the time and your phone. And I know I don’t know you well, but I can tell you’re a bit agitated.”
I haven’t made a true friend in a while. I don’t know how to react. Even my best man isn’t really a friend. He’s a guy I played football with back in high school, but he’s always been Tanya’s friend. Mine are overseas or taking time off before the next NFL season.
Tristan fills my glass with a bottle that happens to be around the bar. Laughter spills over from the crew in the corner, and I try to shake off my doubts.
“You seem to leave your emotions on your sleeve, so I couldn’t help but notice your shift from affable to agitated. But don’t mind me if I’ve overstepped.”
I reach out to his arm and squeeze it. “Thanks. I’m hanging in there like a hair on a biscuit.”
“There’s hair on biscuits somewhere? Like shortbread? Or is that a farming thing you’re about to teach me. You are a proper farmer, right?”
“I am. Crops and flowers and assorted non edible livestock.” He laughs. “I meant like biscuits and gravy- biscuits. I’m worried but holding on for the moment. I have a meeting that might change my work life. My love life is all buttoned up but work needs a bit of help.”
I say as if he was going to ask. He nods at me. “Continue, please. I’m listening.”
I lean on the bar and gesture towards him. I tend to talk with my hands. He settles into the barstool he was leaning against.
“I researched and changed up the farm. I’m raising an unpopular crop for a specific purpose. Huge risk. Like all the eggs in one basket, kind of a gamble. This is all boring. I’ll let you get back to everyone.”
Tristan raises an eyebrow. “You researched crops?”
“A farm is a moving target, and I want to position mine for longevity without livestock.”
“The smell?”
“Vegetarian.”
He laughs heartily. “And your betrothed, she cares about this crop?”
The wine and his sincerity get to me, and I answer honestly, “I’m not sure she cares about me, let alone crops.” That slipped out. “She has her own interests and leaves the farming to me. My first serious girlfriend, who broke my heart was a little more rustic and down to earth. She loved the farm. Tanya loves make-up.”
I take out my phone and do what I don’t want to.
“Excuse me one second.” I shoot off an email to delay my meeting.
Tabi bounds over. “We need your help. Bring your big lunking shoulder over. Sabrina’s crying.”
We hustle over. I sit down next to her and glance at Rory, the large Scottish man who resembles Thor a bit. He shrugs. I put my hand on her back.
She looks up at me, and tears are streaming down her face. Then she leans on my shoulder. I give her a cocktail napkin and pull her closer.
She says between gasps for breath. She’s crying and attempting to speak simultaneously, “I.” Gasp. “Get.” Gasp. “Emotional.” Gasp. And then the rest of her sentence comes out in a rush. Now it’s all sobbing. “After four drinks.”
I look up, and Tabi is standing there. She puts her hands on her hips and says, “Jesus. So, nothing’s wrong?”
Sabrina puts her arms in the air and is now strangely lucid as she says, “Everything. I’ll never find love. I’m too strange. I fit into all situations and none at all. I’m too mouthy. Jonathan, with your very light blond hair and those cornflower blue eyes of yours, I’ll find love, right? Put your giant biceps around me and comfort me.” She thumps on my arms. “You’re huge. Like massive. These are like thick corded rope.” She puts her hands on my jaw. “Look at this chiselled square jaw. Jesus, you have a face and a body. I don’t want you, but you get my point. You have love. And I get none.”
She knows I’m engaged, so no harm. Everyone laughs, including Rory.
He nudges her and points to Tabi. “You do know this obnoxious woman is happily married. There’s a lid for every pot.”
Tabi counters with, “And if someone can love this miserable surly bastard, you’re bound to stumble across someone who can stand you.” She fills up all the glasses and flumps back into her chair.
My phone dings, and I glance. Meeting has been rescheduled for next Monday. Christ, I hope they’re not pissed. But I can relax a bit. I nod to Tristan to let him know things are ok. He grins.
