wings? Grace shrugged. “I don’t know. I never had them.”
“You never had wings? Ever.”
“Nope.”
“Wow. What a sheltered life. I’ll tell you what? I’ll get them mild to start off with.”
“Ok.” Grace was congenial.
“Be right back.” Again, Bobby dashed to the bar, this time Grace watched him, he spoke to the bartender, pointed at the table and hurried back. Sitting down, he lifted his beer. “To a great night.” He held it to Grace.
She lifted her bottle and clinked it with a snicker. Then came the problem. She brought it to her lips and paused. At first, she hovered her mouth over the opening of the bottle, then brought her lips down to the bottle. Paused again, lifted the beer to her mouth, and began to tilt it toward her. Before any liquid flowed down her chin. She stopped. “How does one drink beer from a bottle in lady like manner?”
Bobby smiled and slid a glass forward. He grabbed her bottle and poured the contents inside. “This is how.”
She giggled. “You’re funny.”
“Actually, Grace, no I’m not. You are.”
“No I’m not.” She sipped the beer. “Oh, this is good and cold. I never had beer before.”
“Ok. Stop.” Bobby formed a ‘T’ with his hands. “Never had beer, never had wings?”
“I just had Popeye’s fried chicken for the first time in my life.”
“Holy hell, we have to get you to experience the finer, cheaper things in life.”
“I’d like that.”
“So, Grace, I’m gonna take it you don’t have any kids.”
Grace shook her head. “No.” She brought her glass to her lips. “You?”
“Three.”
Grace choked and spit out.
“Sorry.” Bobby handed her a napkin.
Grace shook her head and wiped her mouth.
“I usually tell that little tid bit first before I ask someone out. I should have. Sorry.”
“No. No, that’s Ok. Three kids. Holy shit. Wow. Where do they live?”
“With me.”
“You raise them.”
“With the help of my mother and father, yeah. My ex just up and left. Must be a woman thing, you know, running away and needing to start a new life … and I’m sorry.”
“That’s OK. It’s all the new rage, you know,” Grace said. “Cosmo is preaching it. So what do you have? Boys? Girls?”
“All girls. Three, five, and eight.”
“Bet they’re nice girls.”
Bobby inhaled. “Um, sure. So … do you want to have kids some day?”
“I’d love to have kids someday. Not quite sure how well I’d be as a mom. I probably suck. Maybe that’s why I can’t have them.”
“Oh, my God, that’s sad. You can’t have kids?”
“Nope. When I was sixteen I was hunting with my father, and I got shot by another hunter who mistook me.”
“You were shot hunting? That’s bizarre.”
“And the truth.”
“So did you keep hunting?”
“Please, once a hunter always a hunter. I love to shoot. I’m better at small game.”
“That is so great. You never had beer or wings, but you hunt.”
“Go figure. I loved a sheltered and pampered life. Even when we hunted it was with the best stuff.”
“You shoot well?” He asked.
“I was born with a gun in my hand. Ok, not born, but one was put in my hand as soon as I could hold it. Hell, my father is …. My father is an avid gun guy.”
“This is such a positive to you,” Bobby said. “Shit. Don’t look now.”
Grace did.
Craig walked over. “Hey, ya’, Bobby, who’s your friend?”
“Craig this is Grace.”
Craig held out his hand. “New in town?”
Grace nodded.
“Wow, anyone ever tell you that you have an uncanny resemblance to Cara Mia Benson.”
Grace’s eyes widened. “Who?”
Bobby turned to Craig. “She’s not that big, Craig. Not everyone knows her.” Bobby returned to Grace. “Cara Mia Benson is B movie queen.”
“Excuse me?” Grace asked with some insult.
“Yeah,” Bobby continued. “She’s not very good and her movies suck.”
Grace gasped.
Craig added. “No, they don’t suck. Bag Lady Betty was decent.
“You never had wings? Ever.”
“Nope.”
“Wow. What a sheltered life. I’ll tell you what? I’ll get them mild to start off with.”
“Ok.” Grace was congenial.
“Be right back.” Again, Bobby dashed to the bar, this time Grace watched him, he spoke to the bartender, pointed at the table and hurried back. Sitting down, he lifted his beer. “To a great night.” He held it to Grace.
She lifted her bottle and clinked it with a snicker. Then came the problem. She brought it to her lips and paused. At first, she hovered her mouth over the opening of the bottle, then brought her lips down to the bottle. Paused again, lifted the beer to her mouth, and began to tilt it toward her. Before any liquid flowed down her chin. She stopped. “How does one drink beer from a bottle in lady like manner?”
Bobby smiled and slid a glass forward. He grabbed her bottle and poured the contents inside. “This is how.”
She giggled. “You’re funny.”
“Actually, Grace, no I’m not. You are.”
“No I’m not.” She sipped the beer. “Oh, this is good and cold. I never had beer before.”
“Ok. Stop.” Bobby formed a ‘T’ with his hands. “Never had beer, never had wings?”
“I just had Popeye’s fried chicken for the first time in my life.”
“Holy hell, we have to get you to experience the finer, cheaper things in life.”
“I’d like that.”
“So, Grace, I’m gonna take it you don’t have any kids.”
Grace shook her head. “No.” She brought her glass to her lips. “You?”
“Three.”
Grace choked and spit out.
“Sorry.” Bobby handed her a napkin.
Grace shook her head and wiped her mouth.
“I usually tell that little tid bit first before I ask someone out. I should have. Sorry.”
“No. No, that’s Ok. Three kids. Holy shit. Wow. Where do they live?”
“With me.”
“You raise them.”
“With the help of my mother and father, yeah. My ex just up and left. Must be a woman thing, you know, running away and needing to start a new life … and I’m sorry.”
“That’s OK. It’s all the new rage, you know,” Grace said. “Cosmo is preaching it. So what do you have? Boys? Girls?”
“All girls. Three, five, and eight.”
“Bet they’re nice girls.”
Bobby inhaled. “Um, sure. So … do you want to have kids some day?”
“I’d love to have kids someday. Not quite sure how well I’d be as a mom. I probably suck. Maybe that’s why I can’t have them.”
“Oh, my God, that’s sad. You can’t have kids?”
“Nope. When I was sixteen I was hunting with my father, and I got shot by another hunter who mistook me.”
“You were shot hunting? That’s bizarre.”
“And the truth.”
“So did you keep hunting?”
“Please, once a hunter always a hunter. I love to shoot. I’m better at small game.”
“That is so great. You never had beer or wings, but you hunt.”
“Go figure. I loved a sheltered and pampered life. Even when we hunted it was with the best stuff.”
“You shoot well?” He asked.
“I was born with a gun in my hand. Ok, not born, but one was put in my hand as soon as I could hold it. Hell, my father is …. My father is an avid gun guy.”
“This is such a positive to you,” Bobby said. “Shit. Don’t look now.”
Grace did.
Craig walked over. “Hey, ya’, Bobby, who’s your friend?”
“Craig this is Grace.”
Craig held out his hand. “New in town?”
Grace nodded.
“Wow, anyone ever tell you that you have an uncanny resemblance to Cara Mia Benson.”
Grace’s eyes widened. “Who?”
Bobby turned to Craig. “She’s not that big, Craig. Not everyone knows her.” Bobby returned to Grace. “Cara Mia Benson is B movie queen.”
“Excuse me?” Grace asked with some insult.
“Yeah,” Bobby continued. “She’s not very good and her movies suck.”
Grace gasped.
Craig added. “No, they don’t suck. Bag Lady Betty was decent.
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