Three Ladies and A Flirt
“Are you ready for happy hour?” Darlene stopped by her friend’s desk.
“I think I need more than an hour,” Helen replied, chuckling as she stood, slipping the strap of her purse over her shoulder.
“Meredith said she’ll meet us at Sylvester’s.” They chatted as they walked down the isle between the cubicles toward the elevators.
Sylvester’s Pub was the newest spot for upwardly mobile singles and the crowd was already three deep at the bar by the time the two young paralegals shoved open the double black doors.
“There she is!” Helen raised her voice over the den of noise created by the music and the overpowering thunder of laughter as a hundred people spent a fortune relaxing and having a good time. “How in the world did she get a table?” They glanced at each other and laughed as Helen raised her palm and Valerie slapped it with her own. “Let the night begin!”
“Go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute.” Helen turned toward the bathroom, frowning when she saw a line of women waiting that snaked out almost to the bar. With a sigh, she leaned against the wall near the last barstool. Her eyes were drawn to a man in khaki pants and a white shirt with his elbows propped on the bar and a half-finished bottle of beer sitting in a puddle of condensation.
“You’d think they’re giving away free beers in the bathroom.” His words were accompanied by a smile that displayed perfect white teeth.
“I know what you mean. Are you new to the area?”
“Yeah, I move here about two months ago. I work at McMillan and Sons.”
“Really? So do I,” she admitted, smiling as she stuck out her hand. “Helen Mosley.”
“John Evans. Hey, I don’t suppose I could entice you to leave this jungle,” he said waving his hand toward the den of laughing people. “You’re lovely and I’d like to get to know you, but it’s impossible to talk in here,” he smiled again.
Helen felt her insides mush at his deep voice, but she was with friends and they had an agreement. “Sorry, I’m with others, but hand me the napkin and a pen and I’ll give you my numbers.”
Helen was just leaving the bathroom when Meredith was entering. “We ordered you a beer and Darlene is holding down the table,” she yelled over the music that blared from the speakers at the corners of the room.
As she passed the end of the bar, Helen smiled and waved at John before concentrating on weaving through the crowd to get to the table.
“Thank goodness you’re here. Hold the fort, I’ve got to go pee.” Marlene was up and away in a flash, disappearing between the gyrating bodies.
It took a couple hours to consume their two-drink quota, but agreed to continue the party at Darlene’s house. After arriving, they ordered a pizza and picked out a movie from her extensive collection.
While they waited for the pizza, they chatted about the evening.
“Oh, I met the cutest guy tonight at the bar.”
“Really? So did I.”
“Well, ladies, I’m not one to be left out, so I gotta tell you that I met a definite candidate for Tarzan. Although,” she admitted, pointing her longneck bottle toward the other two, “he was wearing khaki and not a loin cloth, but he was H-O-T.”
“Khaki?” The other two spoke in unison.
“Well, yeah, he …” All three heads turned when the doorbell rang.
“It’s too soon for the pizza.”
After peeking out the window, Darlene threw open the door. “John! I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow for lunch,” she said, smiling as she grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.
“John?” Helen stood up to glare at the man standing beside her friend. “I gave you my number.”
“And I gave him mine. In fact, we’re supposed to go to dinner tomorrow night,” Meredith hissed through her clinched teeth. “Just what are we supposed to make of this?”
Darlene stepped back, joining her friends as each woman glared at the man standing in the foyer. “You flirt. You, you…you wolf! How dare you come after all three of us and ask us all out?”
As the three women lined up together to confront him, he backed toward the open door.
“Um,” he started, breathing deeply as he continued his retreat. “I think I’ll leave. Have a nice evening.”
He was running, huffing and puffing to get away quickly, when the door slammed at his rear. All his efforts that evening had been wasted.