Pure fiction. Many thanks to my editor, Wicked Inside.
*****
As I entered, the familiar noise and smells hit me. This sports bar in Bend, Oregon, was my place, my one indulgence. I looked around with a feeling of nostalgia. The place was packed. It was Monday evening, after dinner, and Monday Night Football had at least an hour to go. A roar of approval rose from the left-rear quadrant of the floor, though I had no idea yet which side the cheer was for. I could guess.
I looked around for Gisele. I spotted her, but it took a few moments before I caught her eye. She came over and gave me a quick, platonic, hug. "None of my tables are open at the moment. Do you want to wait, or there is a table over there in Carol's area."
"I'll wait." I often did, but tonight it was important to do so.
After I spent ten minutes of standing around and figuring out which groups were cheering for which side, Gisele caught my arm and pointed to a small table against the rear wall. She escorted me to the table and went through all the specials, and then took my regular order. The place was busier than I expected. I should have known better — the Seattle Seahawks were playing tonight.
Gisele came back with my beer. She leaned down and asked "Tab or cash?"
I turned to reply. "Tab. When you get the chance, I'd like to chat."
She rolled her eyes and shrugged. I was willing to wait, if I had to.
An hour later, with the game tied in the last few minutes, the place was even noisier. Gisele had passed by several times, sometimes with eye contact and a quick wave. I caught her eye and signaled for a refill. She nodded.
When she brought it, she leaned in and apologized. "I'm jammed. We're one short. Sorry."
"I'll wait. It's my last night here."
She did a double take as she walked away, her face showing concern.
An hour later, the game over, things were starting to quiet down. However, the Seahawks won in spectacular fashion right at the end, so the bulk of the crowd was still celebrating. Even though there were now some empty tables, Gisele was still rushing around. At best, I got a wan smile as she dashed by.
I watched her. I guessed she was in her mid-twenties. Her hair was natural dirty blond, currently in a pony-tail sticking through the back of a baseball cap. Her breasts were small, her waist and hips narrow but in nice proportion. Her legs were long, and her ass was to die for. She was currently wearing a tight T-shirt and cutoff jeans. The T-shirt revealed she was wearing a bra, which seemed unnecessary, and the cutoffs disguised the perfect rounded shape of her ass. Sometimes she wore elastic jeans that might as well have been sprayed on, and I would have heart palpitations watching her then. Damn! My heart rate went up just thinking about it.
Me? Late seventies, heart patient, otherwise in good shape, except for certain parts of my body that regularly protest that I am not yet dead. My age gives me a small license to flirt in an outrageous manner, and it had become a game between Gisele and me. Much of the game revolved around my not being able to find what I wanted from her on the menu. I also leave a note of thanks along with a generous tip every time I come in, a habit my late wife had taught me. This had led to a tentative connection, and a lot of tolerance, between Gisele and I. She, like most servers my wife had written notes to, kept them all. Try it some time, if you think servers are people that deserve a life.
Twenty minutes to closing, Gisele plopped herself down in the chair next to me. "What a night! I am closing tonight, so if you can stay after closing, we will have time to talk." She appeared to be looking forward to talking.
"Just the two of us?" I leered at her. "Sure you trust me?"
She laughed. "I can either trust you, or I can beat the tar out of you!" She started to get up again. I stuck my tongue out at her. She snapped her teeth at me like she was going to bite my tongue off, and then turned to her work. Yea, it was juvenile, but at my age, I get away with it.
She had left behind a small plastic envelope on the table in front of me. Inside was a small piece of paper with "Take now!" printed on it. I flipped the envelope over and my brain froze. It contained a blue, diamond-shaped pill. I stared at it. I had trouble comprehending, or at least accepting, the obvious meaning. My head was spinning. I couldn't think. I mentally clamped down and stilled the sudden panic in my skull. I took a deep breath. Even if I accepted what she was offering, I knew I could not be everything a woman wanted any more. I didn't even know any more what I could be. It had been years for me. My breathing continued deep and fast, and the fight-or-flight response was strong.
After about five minutes, I took the pill out of the envelope. After another five minutes, I washed it down with the last of my beer. I worked on bringing my breathing back to normal, and working to still all the possibilities still racing through my brain.
Twenty minutes after closing, the customers were finally all gone and the last of the tables were being cleaned and the chairs stacked. Gisele let the kitchen staff out. A few minutes later, she let the last of the front staff out and finished locking the doors. She took one last lap around the place and, satisfied, turned out the interior lights except for a couple behind the bar — they and the patio lights stayed on all night. Finally, she came over to me with two beers.
She plopped into a chair, kicked off her Nikes, and propped her tired feet on the chair next to me. I started giving her a foot rub, ignoring the protests of my arthritic thumbs. She made appreciative sounds while nursing her beer. She pulled the baseball cap off and shook out her hair.
After several minutes, she took her feet back and sat up. "So, what the hell is this about you abandoning me?"
