So once she finished up at work, Holly and I decided to go to Café Yoko’s for dinner. I don’t know why. Café Yoko’s is a shit place to take a date. Not because of the food, or the atmosphere, but the clientèle. And not all of them, really, just a couple of dicks. But its bad enough to ruin a good time.
So we were sitting there, not really talking, each of us thinking our own thoughts. She kept looking over at me with an I-just-ate-the-canary kind of grin, and I was toggling between figuring that out and figuring out whether or not I should quit my job and start looking for a new, and hopefully better, one.
I got tired of contemplating my beer and looked up at her. She was watching me, lazily tracing circling in the condensation on the table. When she noticed, she gave me a playful smile. “So… watcha thinking about?”
I looked back down, a little embarrassed. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“Really?” she asked, leaning forward, like it was some kind of a game.
“Yes, real-” I stopped when I noticed there was a guy standing over me. He seemed like he wanted to say something. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, do you have a piece of paper?”
“Like a notebook sheet or something?”
“Just something to write on.” The guy sounded a little nervous. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure.” I dug around in my coat pocket until I found a left-over receipt and pulled it out. I smoothed it a little and handed it to him.
“Thanks,” he said, and then turned around and began scribbling on it.
“Anyways,” I said, “there’s nothing wrong wi-”
The guy was standing over me again. “Here,” he said, holding the paper out for Holly. She looked at it perplexed. “It’s my number. Baby, just call whenever you need some loving.”
Holly flushed several shades of red; I wasn’t certain if it was outrage or embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she said stiffly, “but I’m here on a date with my boyfriend.”
Who’s your boyfriend? I thought but didn’t say it.
The guy shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, it doesn’t matter. Just give me a call when you’re tired of that loser. I’ve always got time for a lady.” She glared at him. “Oh, c’mon, baby, don’t be like that.” She kept glaring. “Fine, but you don’t know what you’re missing, bitch.”
She kept glaring until he disappeared down the hallway. “I can’t believe him!” she said angrily, hitting the table with the palm of her hand. “I mean seriously, what the hell was that?”
“A bad pickup line?”
She frowned. “You’re no fun tonight, you know that?”
“Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“And what would that be?” she asked, wide-eyed and innocent.
“It’s about,” I began, then I noticed another guy standing over me. “Dammit, what now?”
“Do you have some paper I can borrow?”
I looked at him, eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to write your phone number on it and hand it to her, are you?”
The guy laughed. “Hell no, man, I’ve got more class than that.”
“Fine, then.” I said, fishing around again in my coat pocket. This time I found a part of a flier some religious nut had handed me. “Here.” I gave the guy the whole thing. “Anyway,” I turned back to Holly, still not certain how much to tell her. “It’s nothing big, its ju- What?”
The guy was standing over the table with a corner of the flier in his hand.
“Why don’t you hurry up and hand her the damn thing?” I said through gritted teeth.
He grinned and put the scrap down in front of me. “When you’re sick of dealing with women, just give me a call and I’ll show you how a woman will never really satisfy you.” The guy turned and walked off, leaving us both a little surprised.
So I chugged my beer and in five minutes we were back in the car.
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