“Why do you go to the Bear Den every Friday?” She tilted her head. “And I don’t mean that as a criticism. I go too. But for you, it’s like clockwork.”
I shrugged. “Pool. Friends. Charlie plays good music. You’re usually there.”
She gave me a look that said she wasn’t done with the question yet.
“Okay, and yeah, sometimes I end up talking to a woman,” I admitted.
“Talkingto,” she repeated.
“What?”
“Amos. You always end up walking oneoutthe door. And I’m not judging you for it. But if that’s your Friday night every week, you’renevergoing to find yourself in with someone real. That’s all I’m saying.”
I turned that over in my mind. “I mostly just go to play pool and see friends.”
“Yeah, but at the end of the night you’re always dragging a woman out of there who only wants one thing.”
I frowned at her. “One thing?”
She gave me a patient look. “There are women who go out specifically to find a man for the night. They’re not looking for anything past sunrise. And your whole vibe, and the way you fill out a shirt,” she waved her free hand vaguely in my direction, “makes you the perfect candidate. You’re the bucking bronco they want to check off their list.”
Something about the way she said it sat uncomfortably in my chest, because I’d heard that before.
From Shelly herself, the morning after we’d slept together. She’d called me a one-night rodeo.
“Isn’t that what women want?” I asked.
“Not all of us. The ones you choose always have hungry eyes. They go out stalking the hottest guy in the bar. And frequently that happens to beyou.”
I studied her, listening.
“But the rest of us women,” she said carefully, “the ones you might not notice past the throngs throwing themselves at you. We’re the ones quietly nursing our drinks at our tables. Waiting for someone to actuallyseeus. If you tried talking to one ofus,you might find yourself in a relationship before you knew what hit you.”
“How do you tell the difference?”
She was quiet for a moment, and then she said, “Well, just look at me. I’m not exactly the woman who lights up a room when I walk in. I’m a little dumpy. My candle doesn’t shine the brightest.”
She said it plainly, without bitterness, but I hated every word of it.
“You’re not dumpy. You’re hot as fuck.”
Shelly ignored that and continued, “You’ll find me chatting with friends, being mellow, or tucked in a corner somewhere with a book.” She cleared her throat, and her eyes went shy in a way that hit me somewhere low and warm. “I’m not out chasing men. Although I wouldn’t mind catching one.”
I stared at her.
She cleared her throat again and kept going, faster now. “In contrast, take the woman in the pink shirt. The night we, um… the first night. She was making a display of herself, coming on strong. All she wanted was a wild ride with the wildest mountain man she could find. And you fit the bill.”
I thought back to that night and realized she was right. I hadn’t thought about that woman since. Didn’t even know her name. I only knew she wasn’t local because I hadn’t recognized her face.
But I remembered whatShelly’sface had looked like as we passed her on our way out the door.
The woman had been sneering at Shelly Bear.
And… Shelly had been sneering right back.
“Why didn’t you like her?” I asked.
Shelly looked surprised. Then she stammered, “She, um…”
