"What time you got, man?"
Once again, I checked my phone and cut my eyes over at Doug with a grin.
"It's ten thirty," I told him.
Doug rubbed both hands down his face and through his eyes and reached for his beer. It was half empty and I suspected already he wasn't going to finish it.
"Damn," Doug said. "It's getting late."
I scoffed. "Seriously? Ten thirty is late now?"
Doug made a face as he swallowed as much of his beer as he could manage. He glanced at me and shrugged.
"Got work in the morning," he said. "Besides, it's pretty clear that Richie isn't gonna make it."
I shook my head and took a deep swig of my own beer, staring back up at the flat-screen above the bar.
"Well, what does that make," I said, "the fourth or fifth time he's stopping showing?"
"Actually this is the first time he's skipped the entire game," Doug pointed out. "Last few times he's at least made halftime."
I wasn't going to let Doug off that easy.
"So when are you gonna start slacking, old timer?"
Doug shot me a look. "Hey, Sundays are tough, Dustin. Besides, you don't have to wrangle kids in the morning."
"Yeah, yeah." I smiled and watch the score ticker at the bottom of the screen. "I'm sure Richie will have an excuse like that, too. Ten years and our friendship is fading."
"It ain't a dive bar anymore, man," Doug said glancing around at the crowd of jerseys and Polo shirts. "Can't play wingman forever you know."
"Right, I see now," I said nodding. "You saddle up and sprout two kids, now Richie is living his first year of marital hell, so I'm the odd guy out, huh? You two are in cahoots I'm guessing."
Doug snorted a laugh. "Doing what?"
"Yeah, let's slowly peel poor Dustin away from the Sunday night routine and maybe he'll get hitched too, am I right?"
He rolled his eyes at me. "There's not even that much hope for you."
I nudged him playfully. "Do as you must, old fella. I'm not here to hold you back. Just here to have one more than you, I guess."
I glanced around the bar. It seemed I wasn't the only one interested in topping off my pitcher and watching more highlights of games I'd already seen. The place actually seemed more alive than it had when Doug and I had walked in. The one good thing about Teddy's becoming a sports bar was the mix of people it had drawn over the years. There were groups of much older guys, a few of them in suits, as well as the obnoxiously loud younger generations closer to my age. The bar was lit up. Everything looked so much sleeker the last couple of years, the bar itself, the chairs, stools, glasses, the nineteen flat-screens that seemed to be on every wall... everything.
I did sneak a glance at Doug though, and thought of older days when we were all still in our twenties and full of piss and vinegar. His eyes now seemed strained and red. He seemed tired so much of the time anymore. Hell, I did too. Even Richie had lost a lot of his steam. It seemed like only days had passed since Doug and I were pulling him off of some biker's old lady and dodging beer bottles in the parking lot.
"Guess times change, old man," I said with a sigh.
"Hey, enough with the 'old timer' shtick," Doug said with a chuckle. "Fuck's sake, I'm only a year older than you, dude."
I grinned. "Yeah, but you're the one with the mortgage and-"
"Dusty?"
Both of us stopped and turned. I couldn't put a voice to a face in the crowd yet, which was surprising since my name had been shouted loud enough that everyone else in the bar was turning to look too.
"Dusty!"
I didn't so much as hear her that time as see her. The woman practically bounced and pointed with a gleeful smile when she confirmed it was me. I had the briefest moment of confusion before recognition finally swept over me.
"Aw, hell," I muttered to Doug as I waved to the woman. "And to think you'd leave when the excitement is about to start."
A short blonde was cutting her way through the sea of jerseys. I couldn't mistake her big bright smile, nor could I misplace that shrill, silly giggle. Something about her was very, very unusual though.
"Who the hell is that?" Doug hissed to me.
"That is a spark plug in a sea of gasoline, bud."
"Dusty!" The older woman yelled. "I thought that was you! How are you!"
"Hey Molly," I said somewhat timidly.
There was no way to match her excitement, anyway. Even before I turned to face her inevitable embrace, I could smell Molly's sharp but sweet perfume. She hugged me tightly, and it lasted just long enough to be awkward. Especially since it was the first time I'd ever hugged her. When she pulled away from me at last, her face was inches from mine. This was definitely Molly.
"Wow, were you guys here watching the game?" Molly all but shouted.
I gave her my least sarcastic nod. "Uh, yup. Pretty good one, huh?"
"Oh, it was awesome!" Molly's big grin was on full display. "I only caught the second half! How long have you been here? I didn't even see you in here! I've just been right over there! Have you been here all night?"
Molly's questions were machine gun fast. I gave Doug a sideways glance before answering her.
"Uh, yup. Whole time."
"We come here every Sunday," Doug told her from behind me.
I nodded, but gave Doug a look that silently begged him not to help.
"Oh my gosh, that's great!" Molly's eyes seemed to brighten at the nugget of information.
"Yup," was all I had to give her.
"Oh! I was telling my husband the other day about the ribs they serve here!" Molly was just getting started. "And the ribeye! My gosh, Dusty you have got to try their ribeye! Did you know they serve steaks and stuff here? They are so good. And Wednesday nights they have half priced margaritas! You know it's so funny because I was just telling someone the other day about coming here several years ago and it always seemed so run down and then they totally turned the place..."
