water?”
“Sure.”
He poured me a glass of water and slid it across the bar. “Why don’t you have to worry about it anymore? You quitting?”
“No. I won’t quit. But I’m done with him . Maybe we can salvage a friendship from it.”
“Why is it that all women want to try and be friends with a guy after he fucks them over? It’s like you can’t accept that some people just don’t deserve to have friends. This guy sounds like a grade ‘A’ prick. Just kick him to the side.”
I took a drink of water. It tasted awful. “I don’t know if it’ll be that easy.”
“Jesus. You two have already bumped uglies, haven’t you?”
I glared at him. “Why do you say that?”
“The way you said, I don’t know if it’ll be that easy. Just sounds like you’re fucking.”
I didn’t respond.
“How long have you been there?” he asked.
I tried to silently count the days, but my pickled mind couldn’t seem to do so. I was going to guess, then before I could prepare a response, he continued. “Shit, it’s only been a week, hasn’t it?”
The answer came to me. It was Tuesday. I sighed. “Eight.”
“You’ve fucked eight times, or it’s been eight days?”
“Eight days, we’ve boned twice.”
“Well, at least there’s only twenty left,” he said.
“Twenty what?”
“Days.”
I buried my head in my hands. “I’ll probably be spending more time in here, that’s for sure.”
“Okay by me.” he stood up. “Here comes your pizza.”
I smelled the pizza long before I saw it, and even though I really wanted to eat it, was slow to raise my head. By the time I did, it was in front of me on a plate. I opened both of my eyes and admired the medley of vegetables on what was the largest pizza I had ever seen.
“Lock that front door, will ya, Pete?” Franky pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and tossed them in the air.
I glanced over my shoulder. A middle-aged Hispanic man snatched them from the air and nodded. “Sure.”
“He’s the cook?”
“Juan. He came with the bar. Great guy.”
“I thought you called him Pete?”
“I did.”
I reached for a slice of pizza and shook my head. “Why?”
“Too many Juan’s in San Diego County. I call him Pete to save confusion.”
“Oh.”
I lifted the slice of pizza to my mouth and took a bite. Franky was right, the pizza was great.
“This is really good.”
“They’re really good when you’re drunk. Sober, they’re a solid 7 out of 10.”
I took another bite and shook my head. “This is a ten.”
“You have minimal pizza experience, or you’re drunker than I thought. When did you get here?”
“Dinner time.”
“When’s dinner time for you two love birds?”
“Stop it,” I whined. “I don’t know, six or something.”
“Wow. Eight hours of margaritas.”
I devoured the rest of the slice and reached for another. “Eight hours?”
“It’s two o’ clock. It’s tomorrow . We’re locking up.”
I couldn’t believe I had been there for eight hours. “Holy crap. Can I finish this?”
“Just like I said the other day. Movie stars get special privileges. You can stay as long as you want.”
“Thank you.” I folded the pizza and raised it to my mouth. “Want a slice?”
He narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose. “With onions and peppers?”
I shrugged. “Your loss.”
“Just kidding.” He reached across the bar and grabbed a slice. “This is the only way I like it.”
I studied him as I ate my piece of pizza. Dressed as usual – in jeans, a blue tee shirt, and sneakers, he looked cute.
“I can stay as long as I want, huh?”
He looked up and nodded. “Yep.”
“I want to stay here until this is gone. Will you help me finish it?”
“Will I share a pizza with a gorgeous woman? Let me think on that for a minute,” he said. He reached for another slice. “I think so.”
“Good,” I said. “Because I really don’t want to go home.”
“Never?” he asked.
“I don’t know
“Sure.”
He poured me a glass of water and slid it across the bar. “Why don’t you have to worry about it anymore? You quitting?”
“No. I won’t quit. But I’m done with him . Maybe we can salvage a friendship from it.”
“Why is it that all women want to try and be friends with a guy after he fucks them over? It’s like you can’t accept that some people just don’t deserve to have friends. This guy sounds like a grade ‘A’ prick. Just kick him to the side.”
I took a drink of water. It tasted awful. “I don’t know if it’ll be that easy.”
“Jesus. You two have already bumped uglies, haven’t you?”
I glared at him. “Why do you say that?”
“The way you said, I don’t know if it’ll be that easy. Just sounds like you’re fucking.”
I didn’t respond.
“How long have you been there?” he asked.
I tried to silently count the days, but my pickled mind couldn’t seem to do so. I was going to guess, then before I could prepare a response, he continued. “Shit, it’s only been a week, hasn’t it?”
The answer came to me. It was Tuesday. I sighed. “Eight.”
“You’ve fucked eight times, or it’s been eight days?”
“Eight days, we’ve boned twice.”
“Well, at least there’s only twenty left,” he said.
“Twenty what?”
“Days.”
I buried my head in my hands. “I’ll probably be spending more time in here, that’s for sure.”
“Okay by me.” he stood up. “Here comes your pizza.”
I smelled the pizza long before I saw it, and even though I really wanted to eat it, was slow to raise my head. By the time I did, it was in front of me on a plate. I opened both of my eyes and admired the medley of vegetables on what was the largest pizza I had ever seen.
“Lock that front door, will ya, Pete?” Franky pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and tossed them in the air.
I glanced over my shoulder. A middle-aged Hispanic man snatched them from the air and nodded. “Sure.”
“He’s the cook?”
“Juan. He came with the bar. Great guy.”
“I thought you called him Pete?”
“I did.”
I reached for a slice of pizza and shook my head. “Why?”
“Too many Juan’s in San Diego County. I call him Pete to save confusion.”
“Oh.”
I lifted the slice of pizza to my mouth and took a bite. Franky was right, the pizza was great.
“This is really good.”
“They’re really good when you’re drunk. Sober, they’re a solid 7 out of 10.”
I took another bite and shook my head. “This is a ten.”
“You have minimal pizza experience, or you’re drunker than I thought. When did you get here?”
“Dinner time.”
“When’s dinner time for you two love birds?”
“Stop it,” I whined. “I don’t know, six or something.”
“Wow. Eight hours of margaritas.”
I devoured the rest of the slice and reached for another. “Eight hours?”
“It’s two o’ clock. It’s tomorrow . We’re locking up.”
I couldn’t believe I had been there for eight hours. “Holy crap. Can I finish this?”
“Just like I said the other day. Movie stars get special privileges. You can stay as long as you want.”
“Thank you.” I folded the pizza and raised it to my mouth. “Want a slice?”
He narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose. “With onions and peppers?”
I shrugged. “Your loss.”
“Just kidding.” He reached across the bar and grabbed a slice. “This is the only way I like it.”
I studied him as I ate my piece of pizza. Dressed as usual – in jeans, a blue tee shirt, and sneakers, he looked cute.
“I can stay as long as I want, huh?”
He looked up and nodded. “Yep.”
“I want to stay here until this is gone. Will you help me finish it?”
“Will I share a pizza with a gorgeous woman? Let me think on that for a minute,” he said. He reached for another slice. “I think so.”
“Good,” I said. “Because I really don’t want to go home.”
“Never?” he asked.
“I don’t know
Similar Books
