14 Days, 7 Prompts, 1 Story (Feb 2010)

Off to the Races

He said yes.  She wanted him to, obviously, but hadn’t expected it.  It was stupid to be nervous now that he’d agreed.  Then again, what if he didn’t like the Monkey Room?  She didn’t know any other places nearby.  Or they ran out of things to talk about?  Or he actually was a murdering rapist in disguise?  Ted Bundy pretended to be lame, she remembered reading that somewhere, to lure in women. 

Willing her hands to stillness – her nerves were getting the better of her – she concentrated on projecting confidence.  But the shredded remains of her napkin were hard to hide. 

“If I left thirty on the table, would that cover it?  I think if we wait for the check you’re going to change your mind.” 

He smiled at her sheepishly, as if he had eavesdropped on her internal monologue and felt bad about it. That smile did something to her insides.  Not love at first sight, but definitely butterflies in the stomach.  Keep it together girl.  You don’t even know his last name. 

“That’s more than enough.  The whole thing couldn’t be more than twenty.”

“Well,” he leaned closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially, ‘I’ve taken a shine to one of the waitresses.  I’m trying to impress her by being a big spender and leaving a huge tip.”  Tory laughed so loudly she drew the attention of nearly all the diners.  But he smiled at her again, so she didn’t care if she was making an ass of herself. 

“She’s impressed buddy.  How about moving this wine-and-dine show someplace else?” 

“Where are we going?”

“I was thinking the Monkey Room.  It’s nearby.  Fairly low-key.  Kind of dive-y to be truthful.  But a good place to hang out because the music’s not so loud.  And it’s cheap, you know?  Good for my budget.”  If he was the kind of person that turned his nose up at a neighborhood bar, it would be a short night.  Tory realized she was spewing nervous babble. 

“My soon-to-be sister-in-law used to read poetry there on open-mic nights.  We used to hang out there a lot, my brother and I, back when he was trying to get in her pants.  Funny enough, we stopped going soon as they got together.”  He laughed ruefully.  “I can’t believe I said that.  I make him sound like a complete douche, scouring open-mic nights for vulnerable young women.”

He’s more nervous than I am.  After all, she recognized the symptoms.  She needed to move quickly.  John was talking himself out of going with her.  Tory could tell by the way he clammed up and his brow furrowed. 

It would be a gamble, but she was nothing if not a gambler.  “Hey John?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll race you.  Loser pays for the first round.”  With that, she tossed her phone in her bag and ran for the door, leaving him sputtering and dumbfounded.

--

He watched her haul ass out the door while he put himself together.  She must’ve forgotten about the cane.  It was a forgone conclusion who’d win.  But damned if he wouldn’t put in as good a showing as a man with one good leg could.  Guess that makes me speed limper.  The song would be stuck in his head for hours now.  Laughing to himself, John chased after her.  He hadn’t had this much fun in months.   

Hustling into the bar, he found Tory, looking equally drowned, holding two reddish drinks.  “I hope you like Jäeger.  I figured I got to pick, since I won and all.” 

Pouring himself into the chair next to hers, he took the glass she handed him.  “You know I’m crippled right?  Not much of a race.”     

If anything, her smile got wider.  “A victory is a victory any way you slice it.  What, you wanted a handicap?”  With a wink, she took a healthy swig and glanced at him expectantly.  “Well drink up.  It’ll warm you.” 

She’d turned it into a joke rather than falling over herself to apologize.  He could have kissed her.  Who would have known he’d miss being teased?  John found himself wishing, not for the first or he suspected last time that night, that he’d met her before.