“Thanks for the advice,” I said.
I took the beer with me to the other end of the bar and finished it in a few gulps. Then I went outside to check IDs.
It was a normal Wednesday night until around ten-thirty when Janene walked in with two friends. I’d met Janene at the door about a month ago. On one of my nights off I took her out to dinner at Carmine’s on Forty-fourth Street and then we went back to my place and she spent the night. I hadn’t called her since and I felt bad about it now. I’d had a great time with her—she was nice, good looking, fun to talk to—what the hell was wrong with me? Naturally, she was giving me the silent treatment tonight. She said hi to me at the door, but she didn’t smile, and now she was standing with her friends at the bar, pretending not to notice me.
I kept looking over at her. No doubt about it—she was spectacular. Her dirty blond hair was cut to a shoulder-length bob and she was wearing tight jeans and a blue wool sweater. She was thirty-one but she looked twenty-five. She was a big girl—about five-ten, one-eighty—just my type.
When it got slow at the door I went over to the bar and started talking to her. I’d forgotten how beautiful her eyes were. They were bright blue and always seemed to sparkle. I also noticed her negative body language, how she wouldn’t turn her shoulder toward me, but I kept bullshitting with her anyway.
Then, out of nowhere, she said, “So why didn’t you call me?”
I’d been expecting this question and I was ready with an answer.
“I was planning to,” I said. “I’ve just been really busy lately.”
“Whatever,” she said, pretending she didn’t care, but it was obvious she did. “I just don’t get it, though. I mean I thought we had a good time together.”
“We
“Then why didn’t you call me? And don’t tell me you were busy. How long does it take to make a phone call?”
Looking down I said, “I guess I didn’t think you liked me that much.”
“Come on,” she said. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’ve heard a lot of girls talking—about how when they sleep with a guy on the first date it means they don’t really care about the guy—what he thinks of them.”
“That’s crazy,” she said. “What do you think I do, sleep with every guy I go out with?”
A guy standing behind Janene, drinking a bottle of beer, looked over at us.
“I know I was wrong,” I said, “I should’ve called you. But I just wanted to tell you what was going on in my mind, that’s all.”
“And what do you think I thought after I didn’t hear from you?”
“We had a misunderstanding then—what can I say? But I really am sorry. Believe me I had a great time with you—it was probably one of the best dates I’ve ever had. I’d really like to hang out with you again sometime, but if you don’t want to I’d understand.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess I’ll have to think it over.”
“Fair enough,” I said, “but believe me, I won’t let you down again—you can count on that.” I started to leave, then I looked back at her and said, “And, by the way, I just want to tell you—you look great tonight.”
“I do?” She was blushing.
“Come on, you know you do.”
She was looking down.
“Look,” I said, “I’m gonna get off at one-thirty tonight. If you feel like it, maybe you want to stick around. We could go out for a late drink somewhere—or just get some coffee. We could just talk, you know, see how it goes.”
“Maybe,” she said.
We made some more eye contact, then I said, “You know where to find me.”
I went back to my stool by the door. While I was working, every now and then, I looked over in Janene’s direction and when she saw me we both smiled. I had a feeling I was winning her back, but I couldn’t tell for sure. Then, around one o’clock, she came over to me and said, “My friends are going home.”
“What about you?”
“I told them I have a date with the bouncer.”
Lying next to Janene in the dark I said, “I wish I could offer you something to drink, but all I have is tap water.”
“That’s all right.”
“You sure? Because I could run out and get something—I don’t mind.”
“No. Really.”
I ran my fingers gently down her forehead then over the side of her face.
“Anybody ever tell you you have beautiful skin?”
“You’re always complimenting me.”
“Is something wrong with that?”
“I guess not.”
“It’s so soft and smooth—like a nectarine.”
“Thank you,” she said laughing.
I kissed her, then I reached across her body to turn on the lamp.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to see your face.”
“Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because...I guess I’m just a little insecure, that’s all.”
“What do you have to be insecure about?”
“My legs.”
“Jesus, women always think there’s one thing wrong with them and it’s always the most attractive part of their body. All right, give it to me. What’s wrong with your legs?”
“They’re fat.”
“Fat? They’re not fat enough. If you put another ten pounds on each of them they’d be perfect.”
“Thanks, but keep the light off please.”
She grabbed my arms and then we started wrestling, rolling around on the bed. When I was on top of her, kissing her, she said, “Tommy, I want to ask you a question?”
“Shoot,” I said with my lips against hers.
“If I didn’t come into the bar tonight would you ever’ve called me?”
“Probably,” I said. I was kissing her neck now. In between kisses I said, “I know I was thinking about you a lot.”
“What were you thinking?”
“Just wondering about you, hoping you weren’t with some other guy, that you were thinking about me too.”
“I was—thinking about you too, I mean. A lot. That’s why I was so disappointed when you didn’t call.”
“You’re gonna hold that against me forever, huh?”
“No, it’s just I feel so lucky now. I mean I can’t believe I met a nice guy like you. You have no idea how many losers and assholes there are out there. But I also feel bad about something.”
“What’s that?”
“That we...you know...again. I mean maybe we should be taking it slower.”
“That’s crazy,” I said. “I like you and you like me, right? So why shouldn’t we enjoy ourselves?”
“You know what I mean. I’m afraid you’re going to get tired of me.”
“Impossible.” I rolled over, pulling her on top of me. She was crazy, worrying about her legs. Her legs were perfect.
“Tommy, can I ask you something else?”
“You can ask me anything you want.”
She twirled her index finger around in my chest hair.
