It’ll give me a chance to tell her the story of Sam Stone.
Lauren: The River. Can you meet soon? Happy hour specials.
Me:I just got off. I can be there in fifteen.
Lauren: That’s whatshesaid. Yay. C U there.
I groan at her stupid sense of humor. I hop off the bus right at North Clark and West Armitage and walk the two blocks to The River Shannon, a classic old Irish pub. I arrive before Lauren and grab a spot at the bar. Tending bar is the owner and major ole flirt, Denny Flannery. “Hey, Denny. How’s it going?”
“Ah, sweet beauty, how’re you doin’ tonight?” he asks in a slight Irish accent. Oh, and just so you know, he callsallwomen “sweet beauty.” I’m nothing special.
“Good. Just got off work. Waiting on my friend, Lauren.”
“Ah, Lauren. ’Tis another beauty, that one.”
“Yes, she is. Say? Can I get a black and tan? Guinness and Harp, please?”
“Sure thing, lovey.” Denny turns and starts the process of pouring the perfect glass of golden Harp at the bottom and dark Guinness at the top. Yum.
Denny slides the glass to me and asks, “Tab?”
I nod and take my first sip. “Perfect,” I sigh.
Before I’ve taken a second drink, Lauren slides onto the seat beside me. “Jeez, you couldn’t even wait for me?” She giggles.
Denny arrives with his full flirt on. “Oh, sweet, lovely beauty. What can I get fer ya?” He says, addinglovelyfor her. She is lovely, wearing a suit made with a subtle tweed pattern in tans and grays all over. It’s such a classic look. The woman can wear anything.
“I’ll have what she’s having,” she says, pointing to my drink. Minutes later, we’re both enjoying our beverages. Lauren has filled me in on her workweek, and I’m trying to decide whether or not I want to tell her about my humiliating experience with Sam Stone. Ah, hell. I’ve got to tell her.
“So, how was your day, darling?” Lauren asks in a posh voice.
I know she expects me to shrug off her question as I usually do, but not this time. I turn my stool around to face her. “Well, you’ll never guess who stopped in to the store today.”
Lauren blinks as she tries to guess. “Frederick?”
“No, not him.” I doubt I’ll ever see him again. “No, it was Mr. Three o’Clock.” I sit still, waiting for the impending reaction from her.
“What?” she shrieks. “And you didn’t call me right away? What kind of friend are you?”
I chuckle at her reaction. “You know I’m not supposed to make personal calls while I’m working. Beside, you called right after Diane came in.”
“What happened?”
“Well, he came into the store, looking for a gift for his mom.”
“Did he recognize you?”
“Not at first. He browsed all of the jewelry cases until he spotted one he liked. It was one of mine, Lauren.”
“Serious?”
“Serious.”
“That’s awesome, hon.” She motioned for me to keep talking.
“I showed him the necklace, and he bought it.”
“Wow, that stuff isn’t cheap.”
