River texted me and asked if I wanted to go see a movie with her after school, seeing as she didn’t have any friends in Canyon. I felt guilty turning her down, when I didn’t have an excuse that meant I could be truthful. I told her I was going to hang out with some of my teammates, except she asked me who and I fudged a response.
‘Excuse me, can we get a selfie?’
I turn my head. There’s a woman standing there with her teenage son, holding up her phone. The kid looks embarrassed. I panic, thinking I can’t get tagged in a photo taken at Serenity’s place of work.
‘I, uhh… Not to sound rude, but I don’t really say yes to selfies. Would you take an autograph?’
She looks a little annoyed at first. Her son takes off his Mutineers cap.
‘Do you have a pen?’ I ask.
The woman looks blank, like she’s expecting me to carry one.
‘Here,’ a voice says to my right, and I find Serenity is behind the bar, holding out a black Sharpie.
I give her a wide grin. ‘Thank you.’
I still find it weird, that strangers would want my name on their stuff. Still, the kid looks pleased and thanks me when I sign his cap. His mom puts her phone away.
‘Seriously, what kind of major league athlete doesn’t carry a marker around?’ Serenity asks when they’re gone and I hand her back the pen, though she’s smiling when she says it.
‘Not this one, clearly.’
‘That the first time you got asked for your autograph?’
‘No, I just… lesson learned. Always carry a pen. What about you? You ever get asked for an autograph?’
There’s a woman at the other end of the bar trying to get her attention. The apples of Serenity’s cheeks look pink and dewy, and it’s hard not to focus on her lips and think about what it must be like to kiss them.
‘We had to pay a visit to an old folks’ home last week. I signed a T-shirt for a raffle, does that count?’
‘Sure, it does.’
‘Miss!’
The woman at the end of the bar looks irate.
‘I’ll be right there,’ Serenity replies in the sweetest tone, though the look she gives me tells me she’s exasperated.
‘Your shift ends soon, right? Can we talk?’
‘Can’t be seen with you, Jake. You know the rules.’
She’s already walking around the other side of the bar with a pay machine. As she passes me, I whisper, ‘Then how do I give you the details for our date?’
She reaches into her apron, passes me back the Sharpie, then leans over me, grabs a paper napkin and places it in front of me on the bar. ‘Write it down,’ she says.
‘But we didn’t even agree on a day yet.’
The woman yells again. ‘Miss! The check!’
‘How about Friday night?’ I suggest.
‘It’s Labor Day weekend. CMC is taking part in the Mayor’s parade. How ’bout the Friday after?’
I hate that she’s making me wait to spend time with her. ‘I guess.’
‘Would you settle for the Friday afternoon? Pick me up from here at four?’
