"Alack, alas! Another botched date for Peter. At least it one ended before it began. So much for an Ideal Partner Quiz." A sigh came from Chris in the next room. Peter called to him, "At least I can thank you for not saying 'Told you so.'"
He had met Patricia through some online dating service. By all the conversing they had done through online chats and the sending of e-mails he had hoped she would be the woman for him. More over, he had hoped she would be a woman. Unfortunately Patricia had not been completely honest but her Adam's apple spoke loud and long – there was something to be said for reality that the Internet lacked.
Under his breath he cursed the stupid site and his apparent inability to meet a good woman on his own. Sure plenty of ladies hit on him in the bar, but usually they were just there to flirt or use him like instant-boyfriend mix. Women like that threw him away like expired milk. Then he would retreat to the haven of the bar, hoping for a better chance. Lately, he'd been taking matters into his own hands rather than searching amongst his patrons.
The date crashed and burned on Friday and here he was on Tuesday, still surly over it.
Well after all,
he thought, it is Tuesday -- the official worst day of the week. What better day to be sullen?
An hour sped by before he realized he had been unrelenting in his angst. If Christopher had been covering for him, Peter didn't know. But as much as he would like to think it, Patricia was not the only reason for brooding. That girl, Julie, almost sprinted out of his sight. For a few minutes he wondered if she saw some symptoms of plague on his face.
That wasn't it, and he knew it. Occasionally called scruffy, Peter was the rough kind of handsome that attracted a lot of female attention. In the past few years, some friends had tried to make him trendy with new shirts and different suggestions on hair styles. He'd laughed at each one and called it "Queer Eye Back-lash." After all, you don't mess with a good thing. Besides that, no one touched his hair – no matter how long they'd known him.
Just as the night couldn't get any brighter, a familiar form sallied forth to his favorite stool.
"Look who it is, Chris. I thought we banned that crazy old loon."
Chris looked upon the old man with a feline grin. "Where is your pretty lady-friend from Friday?"
This was met with an equally smug face: "You just wish you'd met her first."
"What is going on here? What friend?"
The proud expression passing across Walt's face was quite self-satisfied. "The twenty dollar bill. Too bad you saw her first. If I were thirty years younger, I'd give you a run for your money." Walt couldn't help but wiggle his eyebrows in a savvy fashion.
"She's your lady-friend how?"
"Chris, I sure hope you're the smart one of the family, 'cause light is dawning on Marblehead here too slowly."
Calmly, Peter took the teasing and asked, "What happened?"
"Well your friend Walt just asked the lady a few questions, like her whole name. And because an old man should always recognize the appropriate time to have excellent hearing, I learned a few other facts about her while she had a few drinks with the girls. That and a little conversation with another nice lady – some real hot stuff." Walt claimed the tall glass of suds that Chris poured for him. "Ah, such a sweet girl."
Peter sighed as if a saint with tribulations ahead; he knew it would take quite some time to draw the information out of Walt.
***
"I've got a proposition for you."
The look on Franky's face was something Julie was wary of. Sure it was sincere and honest – but honest as in I've-got-something-planned-that-will-be-fun-yet-potentially-not.
She must have learned it from Matthew.
As ordinary as Wonderbread, Julie continued her work and asked the necessary question: "What's the proposition?"
"I know you draw. So I was thinking, if I've got me one of those starving artists working for me, I could be a patron or something." Franky shinned her nails against the lapel of her apron idly, keeping her eyes trained on Julie's face. "Course, that means you'd have to make something for me, so I figure a nice portrait would be in order. Not those little doodles you've been doing on your break, either. Something big enough to be framed."
Julie pursed her lips, biting back that nearly automatic reply she'd been offering her brother. With Franky just looking at her, neither urging her to the task nor acting disinterested, Julie thought about it. Years had gone by since her last commission and although not starving in the least, the extra money would be good for a movie showing or a day trip to a museum. "I – who would I be drawing?"
"Me, of course. And if you want any more cash, I'd be willing to extend the deal for other ones." She leaned in close to Julie as she pulled on her jacket. "I think Marble would be willing, and I wouldn't mind a keepsake of your brother."
She had her misgivings about this, but still Julie couldn't help but nod and agree.
"Also, I couldn't help but notice you've scheduled yourself for Friday night." The expression on Franky's face was slightly worried. "Did we scare you?"
Julie blushed lightly, and gave a delicate no with a shake of her head.
"You didn't think me a lush by having two margaritas at the same time, did you?" Before Julie could respond, Franky explained, "It's just that the bar really gets swinging and it's hard to get another by the time I finish mine..."
