flashquake Fiction

BOY MEETS GIRL
by Wayne Scheer

"Boy Meets Girl" was originally published in Bovine Free Wyoming in June 2002.

She sat at O'Reilly's drinking scotch straight up. In a jeans and T-shirt bar, she wore a dress. In a work boots pub, she wore heels. But she drank like a longshoreman. She downed the liquor in a single swallow, slammed down the glass, and signaled for another.

The bartender brought her another drink, taking his money from the bills and change in front of her cigarettes.

"You have a rough day?"

She paid no attention to his question, downed the shot and handed him her empty glass. "Gimme another."

Mostly men populated O'Reilly's, the kind of men with rough hands and greased back hair. Normally by now, one of them would have made his move on an attractive woman drinking alone. But it was as if she had a fence built around her with a sign that read "Danger." These were the kind of men who knew better than to walk into a danger area without a hardhat.

On the other end of the bar, Tony Costa and his brother, Mike, were finishing off a third pitcher of Rolling Rock. It was getting late, near eleven, time for Mike to go home to his wife. Tony was stalling. He didn't want to drink alone. And he didn't have a wife to go home to. Not anymore.

"You should go talk to her, Tony," Mike said.

Tony stared at his brother. "She's gone, man. Val's with what's-his-face. And good riddance to both of them."

"No, not her. Her." He pointed to the lady at the end of the bar.

"Nah, she's trouble." Tony finished what was left in his glass and split what remained in the pitcher between his brother and himself. "I don't need trouble."

"What you need is a warm body, bro. Go to her before she's too drunk to appreciate the Costa charm."

"Ah, go to your wife, pussy. Leave me alone."

Mike laughed and finished his drink. He peeled a couple of bills from his fat, just-got-paid billfold and waved it towards the bartender. "Al, this is for you. My brother here forgets what's important when he's been drinking."

Mike turned and walked unsteadily towards the door, leaving Tony staring into space. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony watched Mike whisper something to the lady drinking alone. "Stupid sonuvabitch," Tony whispered.

She turned and looked towards Tony. Not bad, she thought. Good, hard body. He could use a haircut and a shave, but what the hell? Her mind wandered to how much she wanted to get out of her panty hose and bra, to how much she wanted a man. Raising her glass in his direction, she made eye contact. She could hear Tony sigh at the other end of the bar.

She watched him stand up, immediately grabbing the stool for support. Good, she thought. He's drunk enough to think I'm beautiful. Glancing at the mirror across the bar, she checked her make-up and hair.

As he strode towards her, she watched how his jeans fit his crotch and she made sure he saw her watching. "You and him really brothers?" she asked as Tony sat down on the stool next to her.

"Depends on what he said."

"He said you're not as pathetic as you look."

Shaking his head, Tony stuck out a meaty hand and introduced himself. She made no effort to take his hand or follow through on the introductions.

"What's your name?" Tony asked, trying to withdraw his hand as inconspicuously as possible.

"What difference does it make?" She looked at her empty glass. "If you buy me another scotch, I'll be drunk enough to go home with you."

In bed, Tony figured she was probably a good five years older than his thirty-five years. But he was the one getting the workout. She knew what she was doing and she liked doing it. Her body was pretty good, too, especially her breasts, although he wondered if they were too perfect to be natural. He looked for surgical scars, but in the darkened room he saw none.

Afterwards, as if in a bad movie, she reached into her night table and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "You smoke?"

"Nah, my ex made me quit."

"Mine tried." She lit her cigarette, inhaled deeply and held it an ungodly long time before releasing the smoke. It hung like a cloud over the bed.

Tony tried making small talk. "I never seen you at O'Reilly's before. You work near there?"

She just sucked on her cigarette and added to the gray cloud.

Tony missed conversation. That's the one thing about Val, he thought. We always talked, until she got involved with... He tried another approach. "I've been divorced one full month. This was supposed to be my coming out party."

For the first time, Tony heard her laugh. "Mine too."

"You recently divorced?" He turned towards her and reached under the covers to make contact.

"Not exactly, " she said. "My name used to be Frank. You're my first as Francine."

A lot of time passed before either of them spoke.

"Now's your chance to leave, Tony." Francine said. "You don't have to stay."

Tony thought about what his brother would say if he ever found out. He also thought about how he'd feel getting out of bed and dressing, leaving her alone. He thought of his empty apartment. "No," he said. "If it's okay with you, I'll stay."

For the next few minutes, they lay on their backs, as still as statues, careful not to touch. Finally, Francine lit another cigarette. "Put it out," Tony said. She complied. Tony reached his arm out and she rested her head on his chest.

"Talk to me," Tony said. "Tell me your story."

Copyright 2002 by Wayne Scheer

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