Now Watch This

I am a six foot tall blonde female with broad shoulders and a cackle that can be heard across any room. I have a broad smile that has been described as disarming, genuine and toothy. I also have a 9mm strapped to my left hip, plainly visible under my gauzy beige blouse. Not sure which quality makes people go the other way when they see me coming.  

I have no problem walking into a situation others would call “dicey,” except for today. My goosebumps never lie and I walk briskly down the road until I spot a propped open door belonging to a pub. I duck in hopping to lose whomever is inciting my inner warning bell. I enter, automatically scan the dim, seemingly empty restaurant and notice a good looking 40 something man seated at the bar without a beverage. Who does that in an establishment like this? He wears new jeans and work boots and seems a capable defender depending on what walks in the door behind me.  

“Well aren’t you a tall drink of water,” he says admiringly, looking me up and down as I settle on the barstool next to his. “Your lucky day,” I reply. “All of these other seats and I choose the one right next to you.”

He softly chuckles under his breath. “How do you know it’s not your lucky day? You found me, didn’t you?” He has a point. Not that I was actively looking for him—or anyone like him—but when good fortune drops into one’s lap why not embrace it?  

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”  

“No you’re not. In fact I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

“Unable to confirm or deny,” I respond nervously while gifting him with one of my get-away-with-anything smiles. He matches it with a manly grin that visually displays a sardonic side. He soon begins pecking rapidly with his crooked fingers at his cell phone. “Are you telling on me?” I ask. I already know he is but what I don’t know is who’s on the receiving end of the text. He smiles and says no, “just letting my elderly aunt know I’m still waiting for her to-go food.” Yeah right. I smile back and make believe I bought his line.  

“That’s very nice of you. Your momma raised you right.”  

“Sister,” he corrects, “and yes she did.” 

That piece of info should have told me all I needed to know to protect myself but instead it has the opposite affect. Now I know ‘the’ person is this person specifically and is as real as the danger he represents. My caution barrier immediately goes up but I don’t want to alert him. The bartender slash waitress stops in front of us to ask what would we like to drink? I give her my standard vodka collins order to not arouse suspicion as he asks for a Pepsi. The bartender waitress puts a menu down in front of me and I pretend to study it while drumming my fingers on the worn countertop. 

“What’s good here?” I ask not caring about the answer.  

“I wouldn’t know.” I look over at him as my eyebrows raise questioningly. “I’ve never actually eaten the grub. This is Aunties hang out.” 

I turn back to the menu and decide on the pastrami.

“Live near by?” I ask.

“Depends on what you consider ‘near by.’ Walking distance, no. Under 10 minute drive time yes.” Pause. “Why do you wanna know?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because where do I live is kind of a personal question to ask a complete stranger.” He takes the soda straw into his mouth and drains the glass dry.

“You’re not a total unknown. You’re the nice man sitting on the barstool next to me that’s polite and not trying to get my name and phone number.” I hope this derails him. I don’t have much in my arsenal today.

He slowly nods his head. “I’m Tom,” he says extending his large paw. “Carly,” I answer, shaking his hand. “Now that we know each others’ given names we’re well on our way to being buds.” 

Tom chuckles softly. “How about you? From around here?”

“You could say that. Not staying though, just on a short visit.” I watch Tom for a reaction. He squints his eyes at me while studying my face. He is clearly trying to decide if I’m lying and if so, by how much. I think I have pulled off the innocent female schtick but I can’t be positive until I’m free of him and back in safe company. The bartender waitress appears and puts my sandwich down in front of me. Tom winks at her and she retreats back into the kitchen none the wiser about the scene playing out right here in real time. “Want half? It’s really good!” I say as I gesture to the untouched portion, mouth still full. “No thank you. I try not to interfere with anyone’s last meal.” I make a nervous chuckling sound that’s really more of a cry for help but there’s still no one else in the restaurant. Odd how not a single soul wandered through in the forty five minutes I’ve been here. “What do you do for a living Tom?” I say this too brightly trying to engage him on a personal level.  

“You might say I’m in the Import export racket.”

“Interesting!” I continue between bites of rye and mustard. “And what do you import and export?”  

“Young girls. Kidding! Bad joke. I’m used to talking with my guys, not beautiful women.”

I am not amused but make a valiant effort to hide that fact. Where is the bartender waitress? Or any other human for that matter, I wonder as my eyes dart around. I am beginning to worry how it’s been just Tom and I this entire time. With no relief in sight my morbid imagination has been unleashed and unapologetically takes over.  

I finish the last bite and slide the plate forward as I swing my long, legging clad legs smoothly over and off the barstool. As I stand up I notice the goon squad clamoring through the kitchen and back doors at the same time as my conversation partner. Tom immediately jumps off his barstool and starts to make a dash for the front door. He’s too late for that exit, another set of my beatdown crew is already making its way through.

“These are my friends,” I say casually as the two groups come together and surround the bar. “I’d introduce you but I’m sure you’ll all be on a first name basis in no time.”