“So what’d you make us?”
“It’s called an Adios Motherfucker.”
My hand immediately goes to my mouth to cover up an explosive laugh.
He raises his glass. “Bottoms up.”
“Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.” I clink glasses with him and take a sip from the two slim black straws. For a blue drink with at least six forms of alcohol in it, it tastes pretty innocuous. He watches me the whole time, removing the straws from his glass and drinking directly from it.
“Not bad, right?”
“Wow. Not too girly, not too fruity. Just the right amount of edge. Well done.”
“I aim to please.”
“I bet you do.” Did I just say that out loud?!
He licks his lips and places his glass down on the table, resting his elbow on the edge and leaning languidly into it as he shifts his body toward mine. “I bet you do too.”
“Hah. Couple more of these and I might.”
“Oh, I think one of these will be quite enough. Take your time. Enjoy it.”
“I will.” My lips find the tips of the straws again, and I take my time, enjoying it while he studies me. Suddenly, I’m feeling self-conscious. I clear my throat. “You said you used to work here?”
“Few years back. Like, six years ago now, actually. When it first opened.”
“You a bartender somewhere else now?”
“Nah. I just worked here and some catering jobs. It was fun but not really my calling.”
“What is your calling?”
He takes another sip of his Adios Motherfucker and then drags his thumb back and forth under his lip. “Well, I guess you could say I’ve had a lot of callings. I was a bucket drummer when I was still in high school.”
“No way.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Like in the subway?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes around Union Square. Occasionally Times Square. But street performers can be pretty territorial.”
“How’d you get into bucket drumming?”
“I knew a guy who was doing it and it looked cool. He showed me how it was done. We made a shit ton of money. You’d be surprised.”
I would not be surprised.
If I saw him banging anything, I would throw all my money at him.
“I was a handyman for a while, a house painter, a property manager, a DJ.”
“Like at parties?”
“Yeah. Parties, raves. Then I became a salesman.”
Oh God. I bet he was a good salesman. “What did you sell?”
“Well first I knew a guy who made a lot of money selling women’s shoes at Barneys.”
My jaw drops. “You sold women’s shoes at Barneys?”
“Yeah. You’re a size seven, right?”
“Yes. Why—do you have any size seven Manolo Blahniks leftover?”
“No, I was just trying to impress you with my ability to guess your shoe size. Impressed?”
“Totally.” That’s a lot of jobs. He can’t possibly be over thirty.
“I’m twenty-eight,” he says, as if reading my mind. “Case you were wondering.”
“Why have you had so many jobs?”
He shrugs. “Just wanted to see what they were like.”
That is fascinating. I’ve known that I wanted to be an elementary school teacher ever since I was in elementary school. It never even occurred to me to see what other jobs or lives were like. He fascinates me. Or maybe I just think he’s hot. Or both. It’s both. He doesn’t ask me about my job history. I guess because this isn’t a date and he’s fine with just thinking I’m hot.
There’s a pause in conversation when we’re just smiling at each other, and the song that’s playing fills the space with a slow, sexy rhythm that makes me sway my shoulders and hips again. He lowers his chin and his nostrils flare the tiniest bit. I give myself a mental high-five for managing to hold his gaze until he finally looks away and takes another drink.
“So what else did you sell?”
“Cars. I worked at a luxury used car lot in Queens. Buddy of mine’s place. Only did that a few months. Didn’t like it.”
“Why not?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t get to hold as many women’s feet at that job. Didn’t see the point.”
“I would have let you hold my feet if I was car shopping.” Wow, this drink is more potent than I thought it was.
Vince smiles. “And I would have taken you for a nice long test drive.”
Wow. He did not miss a beat. Again, it doesn’t make me feel intimidated. It makes me feel better about myself. Still, I think it’s time I say “adios” to my Adios Motherchucker. There’s about a third of it left, and if I finish it, I might actually let him take me for a nice long test drive right here in the booth.
“I’m just going to go to the ladies’ room for a minute. Excuse me.” Do not say you have to tinkle. “I have to tinkle.” Schmidt.
“Sure.”
He slides out of the booth and holds his hand out to help me up. He doesn’t step out of the way when he pulls me toward him. I stand with my face one inch from his neck, afraid that if I look up at him, I’ll fall backwards. And then I realize he’s just making sure that I can stand on my own. “You okay to walk?” he asks playfully.
“I’m pretty sure I’m okay to fly.”
He laughs. “You want your purse?” He picks up my purse and hands it to me.
“Oh. Yes, I do. Thanks.”
“The ladies’ room is back there past the bar.”
“Got it.”
I put one foot in front of the other and walk, in what I’m pretty sure is a straight line, in the direction of the ladies’ room. A couple of guys who are standing near the end of the bar step aside to let me pass through them, saying “hey” to me.
I feel one of them put his hand on my elbow. “You okay there?”
I guess I’m wobblier than I thought.
“Yup. Thanks.”
“Thank you,” he says.
Some guys just aren’t as good at not seeming creepy as Vince is.
The ladies’ room has one stall, and thankfully it is empty. I pull out my phone to call Marnie. Her kids should be in bed by now, and she’s probably watching Netflix with her husband.
She picks up on the second ring. “Are you home? Are you okay?”
“I’m not at home, but I might be a lot better than okay.”
“What?”
“Is Dave there? Can you talk?”
“Hang on, I’ll go to the kitchen.” I hear her tell Dave to pause what they’re watching, and I hear him tell her to grab another beer and more chips. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! I’m at a bar with a guy I just met at the liquor store, and I think he wants to have sex with me.”
She is silent for three seconds before saying, “Nina. Go home. Now. Alone.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re too sensitive and you are too inexperienced. You’ve been attached to Russell for years. God knows why—but you need to detach from him. For real. And then attach yourself to yourself—and then attach yourself to a vibrator. And then you can start dating someone new.”