Drama City

'Hey,' he said, showing her his teeth.

'Hey,' said Rachel, her mouth turning up on one side, half a smile, an opening.

'Mind if I join you?'

'Why?'

'Might as well close the gap. You haven't taken your eyes off me all night.'

He chuckled in a self-deprecating way, a smart tactic. If he was off base, he was just kidding. If not, he was in. He was kind of good-looking in a nonpretty way, with dark eyebrows and dark, curly, tightly cut hair. Laugh lines framed his eyes and parenthesized his large mouth. He had a large nose as well. This was a turnoff to some women, but in Rachel's experience, it was a plus.

'Have a seat,' said Rachel, nodding at the empty stool beside her. 'So I don't strain my eyes.'

His name was Aris O'Leary, and when Rachel said, 'Harris?' he said, 'No, Aris. It's short for Aristotle.' He was the son of a Greek American woman, second generation, and an Irish American father, third. 'It means I like good food and this.' Aris held up his glass of Jameson neat. She wondered how many times he had said that to women in bars.

'What's your name?' he asked.

'Don't be so bold,' she said, and he laughed.

Aris was a sales rep for a major appliance manufacturer out of 'Saint Joe's.' Aris was in D.C., his first time, for the Home Improvement Expo at the new convention center. Aris had wrestled at Michigan State, but 'that was twenty pounds ago.' Aris had hoped to check out some of the museums and the monuments while he was in town, but he would have to do it on another visit, as he was leaving in the morning. Aris was thirty-four years old.

Rachel nodded, her eyes on his, seemingly attentive but barely seeing him or registering his words. She was thinking of Eddie, her offender who cut hair and was about to get off paper. She was sorry she had not had time for him today and was looking forward to seeing him in the morning. Eddie was a good one, a genuine success.

'I guess I picked Michigan State 'cause they were the Spartans,' said Aris. 'You know, with my mom and all. Plus the in-state tuition. You can't beat the price, you know what I mean?'

Rachel crossed one leg over the other, deliberately flexing her thigh, making sure he saw the cut. She leaned forward a little to give Aris a look at her lacy bra, her breasts loose inside it, the aureole of one brown nipple edging above the lace. It was humid in the bar, and the warmth was around her and on her chest.

'You okay?' said Aris, his eyes bright.

'A little hot, is all. You?'

'Yes.'

They ordered two more drinks. Aris signaled the bartender for the check as Rachel lit another cigarette. The room doubled for a moment as she looked around it, trails coming off the men and women at the bar. Not surprising, with the red wine and now the scotch.

'Don't mix the grain and the grape, little girl.'

'Who has time, Popi? You know I work too hard.'

'You play too hard too. I see it on your face.'

Aris wrote his room number on the check. She noticed the sun line on his ring finger as he scratched out his signature. At his age, he probably had a child as well. She guessed he had been married for seven years or so. 'Seven Year Ache.' She loved that song.

'Something funny?' said Aris.

'Was I smiling? I guess I'm happy, is what it is.'

'So,' said Aris, 'you gonna make me beg you for your name?'

'Rachel Lopez,' she said. 'I'm a mutt, just like you.'

'Rachel, like in the Old Testament.'

'My mother was Jewish.'

'But Lopez isn't Jewish. Your father was what?'

'Latino, born in west Texas.'

'Your folks still around?'

'Deceased.'

'Sorry.'

Both had passed within months of each other. If there was a blessing, it was that her father had gone first. He could not have handled seeing her mother, a husk of bones and loose gray flesh, in her last days.

'So you're half Jewish and half Spanish,' said Aris.

'Latina.'

Aris smiled rakishly. 'Which half is Latina?'

Rachel dragged on her cigarette. 'You stop acting so fresh, you'll find out.'

'Okay,' said Aris, squaring his shoulders, cocky, knowing he was in. 'But listen, I need to use the head.'

'Pass the front desk and go down the stairs.'