Mine: A Love Story by Scott Prussing Page B

yet.”
    I’m spared from having to come up with some smart retort by the arrival of our food.
    “You two need anything else?” our waiter asks after putting our food, drinks and a bottle of ketchup on the table.
    Chris looks at me, and I shake my head. “We’re good,” he says.
    He picks up the ketchup and mimes pouring some onto the fries, which are the thick, plump kind I like, looking for my approval. I nod my head yes, so he shakes a couple of big blobs of ketchup onto the fries and then some more onto his burger.
    I spear a fry with my fork and take a bite. It’s warm and crispy, with just the right amount of salt. Very good, really. Chris picks up his burger in both hands and takes a big bite, his blue eyes smiling at me over the top of the burger. I smile back and bite into my sandwich. It’s also very tasty. The Dijon sauce is just right and the chicken is nice and tender.
    We don’t talk too much while we’re eating, which is fine with me. I hate having to worry about whether I’ve got food stuck in my teeth when I’m talking and eating at the same time.
    “Did milady enjoy her dinner?” Chris asks when I finally shove my plate to the side.
    “Immensely,” I reply, making a show of delicately dabbing my lips with the paper napkin. “The cuisine was superb, the atmosphere enchanting, the service exceptional. I can’t wait for the entertainment.”
    Our waiter comes over and grabs our plates. Did I mention he’s pretty cute? Not that I noticed, of course.
    Chris scoots his chair around the table so that he’s next to me, facing the stage. Our timing is perfect, because some guy in the same blue shirt, black pants outfit as our waiter has just stepped up onto the stage and grabbed the microphone. He taps the mic with his fingers a couple of times, testing it, and then waits for the crowd to quiet.
    “Welcome, everyone, to open mic night at The Joint,” he says. Cheers and whistles erupt from the crowd. “We’re going to start with our traditional opening act,” he continues when the noise subsides. “Let’s hear it for one of your favorite performers, Anthony Tomaso!”
    The cheers and whistles are louder this time and are joined by lots of applause. This guy must have a lot of fans here tonight, or maybe it’s just a boisterous crowd ready to let loose and have some fun. The cheers continue as a skinny, dark-haired guy steps up onto the stage. He’s carrying his own guitar, a much newer and nicer one than the instrument leaning against the wall. As he slips the strap over his head, the lights gleam off the shiny wooden face of his guitar. Then the overhead lights dim and he begins to play. I recognize the opening chords of Toby Keith’s “I Love This Bar” immediately.
    His voice is deep and masculine. “We got winners, we got losers, pot smokers and boozers. We got freshman, we got juniors, and we’ve got lots of slacker seniors.”
    He’s changed the words to fit the college scene and the crowd is loving it. When he gets to the chorus—“I love The Joint”—the place goes crazy. The noise doesn’t die down completely all the way through the song, and when he belts out his final “I love The Joint,” the crowd explodes into thunderous applause. Chris is right. This is fun!
    The MC leaps theatrically back onto the stage and grabs the microphone. “Anthony Tomaso, folks!” he says as the applause finally fades. “Thanks for kicking things off, Anthony. And as always, The Joint appreciates the plug.”
    Tomaso makes a deep bow and then steps down off the stage. He takes a seat at a table right in front with three other people seated at it.
    “Our next performer is another regular here at The Joint,” the MC continues. “You know him and you love him. Let’s hear it for the always popular Brian Jones!”
    More cheers break out as a tall blond guy wearing a frilly white button shirt, tight black jeans and a floppy straw beach hat gets up from the table where Tomaso just sat