clumsy. I was...oh, never mind. It was too late for snappy. Anything I said now would just sound lame.
“You got room for six?” Christopher turned and asked the scantily-dressed hostess.
She gave him a wink and reached out and picked a non-existent piece of lint off the front of his shirt, letting her fingers linger on his chest just a little too long. “Sure thing, Honey. I can always make room for you.” She looped her arm through his and made sure her generous bosom was pressed against him as she led us past a giant fiberglass jack rabbit with antelope horns to a table in the back.
If she treated all her customers like this, her tips must be amazing. Maybe I should try that routine if I have to go back to Harry’s. Nah...contrary to my current condition, I wasn’t a slut.
“I’ve never seen a rabbit with horns before,” Liberty whispered to me as we passed a real rabbit head that had been mounted on a plaque with little spike antlers.
“ It’s a joke,” I whispered back. “People think it’s funny to put antlers or horns on a rabbit.”
“But why?” she asked with horror. “Rabbits are such kind creatures.”
“Bottom of the food chain,” Tulsa commented, obviously having overheard us.
Liberty’s expression was stricken. I hurried to distract her. “He probably got hit by a car or something.”
She looked doubtful, but she nodded. “I guess that could have happened.”
I nudged her forward and we sat in the two remaining chairs that hadn’t already been claimed at our table.
“The pizzas are great here,” Dallas said.
“They’re really big, so I thought we’d order a couple and split them,” Christopher suggested. “Liberty, they have several veggie sandwiches and salads, so pick what you want.”
Honey girl handed us all menus so we could check out the toppings and we finally settle d on one of the Pulled Pork Pizzas and one with extra pepperoni and mushrooms called an Old Timer. She quickly returned with our drinks, then went back to her station by the front door. The place was filling up fast.
“How’d you like the G63?” Christopher asked which launched a boring discussion about horsepower, speed, sound systems and alloy wheels. Even Tulsa was caught up in it.
Liberty and I met each other’s eyes across the table, and we shrugged. I could converse intelligently about hundreds of things, but anything on wheels wasn’t one of them. I suspected her areas of interest were much more limited, but she probably knew more about how to raise a carrot or groom an alpaca than any of us ever would.
“How many people live on your commune?” I asked her.
“We call it The Farm and there are six families and three unattached people who live alone.”
“You said your mother never married, but . . .?” I was wondering if she had a father figure but didn’t know how to phrase it delicately without insulting her mother.
“She’s had a few men in her life since then, but there’s no one right now.” Liberty smiled. “We live a very harmonious life. Some of the couples are married and quite committed to each other. Others, like my mother, believe all relationships weren’t meant to be long-term. People come into our lives for different reasons, then move on. It would be a loss to not let them in.”
In an odd way, I kind of understood that. But I was still more of a long-term kind of girl. I believed in the fairy tales my mom used to read to me. I wanted a man who was strong enough to accept me as I am and to want to wrap me in his arms and protect me, but vulnerable enough to need me in his life. I had long ago accepted that those were fairy-tale heroes, not real-life guys who would actually show up on my doorstep.
It should have been a clue that none of those dudes in fairy tales were named Brandon. The only guy I knew named Prince was too short and lived too far north, coincidentally in the same city as Brandon’s
“You got room for six?” Christopher turned and asked the scantily-dressed hostess.
She gave him a wink and reached out and picked a non-existent piece of lint off the front of his shirt, letting her fingers linger on his chest just a little too long. “Sure thing, Honey. I can always make room for you.” She looped her arm through his and made sure her generous bosom was pressed against him as she led us past a giant fiberglass jack rabbit with antelope horns to a table in the back.
If she treated all her customers like this, her tips must be amazing. Maybe I should try that routine if I have to go back to Harry’s. Nah...contrary to my current condition, I wasn’t a slut.
“I’ve never seen a rabbit with horns before,” Liberty whispered to me as we passed a real rabbit head that had been mounted on a plaque with little spike antlers.
“ It’s a joke,” I whispered back. “People think it’s funny to put antlers or horns on a rabbit.”
“But why?” she asked with horror. “Rabbits are such kind creatures.”
“Bottom of the food chain,” Tulsa commented, obviously having overheard us.
Liberty’s expression was stricken. I hurried to distract her. “He probably got hit by a car or something.”
She looked doubtful, but she nodded. “I guess that could have happened.”
I nudged her forward and we sat in the two remaining chairs that hadn’t already been claimed at our table.
“The pizzas are great here,” Dallas said.
“They’re really big, so I thought we’d order a couple and split them,” Christopher suggested. “Liberty, they have several veggie sandwiches and salads, so pick what you want.”
Honey girl handed us all menus so we could check out the toppings and we finally settle d on one of the Pulled Pork Pizzas and one with extra pepperoni and mushrooms called an Old Timer. She quickly returned with our drinks, then went back to her station by the front door. The place was filling up fast.
“How’d you like the G63?” Christopher asked which launched a boring discussion about horsepower, speed, sound systems and alloy wheels. Even Tulsa was caught up in it.
Liberty and I met each other’s eyes across the table, and we shrugged. I could converse intelligently about hundreds of things, but anything on wheels wasn’t one of them. I suspected her areas of interest were much more limited, but she probably knew more about how to raise a carrot or groom an alpaca than any of us ever would.
“How many people live on your commune?” I asked her.
“We call it The Farm and there are six families and three unattached people who live alone.”
“You said your mother never married, but . . .?” I was wondering if she had a father figure but didn’t know how to phrase it delicately without insulting her mother.
“She’s had a few men in her life since then, but there’s no one right now.” Liberty smiled. “We live a very harmonious life. Some of the couples are married and quite committed to each other. Others, like my mother, believe all relationships weren’t meant to be long-term. People come into our lives for different reasons, then move on. It would be a loss to not let them in.”
In an odd way, I kind of understood that. But I was still more of a long-term kind of girl. I believed in the fairy tales my mom used to read to me. I wanted a man who was strong enough to accept me as I am and to want to wrap me in his arms and protect me, but vulnerable enough to need me in his life. I had long ago accepted that those were fairy-tale heroes, not real-life guys who would actually show up on my doorstep.
It should have been a clue that none of those dudes in fairy tales were named Brandon. The only guy I knew named Prince was too short and lived too far north, coincidentally in the same city as Brandon’s
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