"Hey, have you thought about what you are wearing to the social tonight?"
Sturges had heard that Ms. Vera was back in the neighborhood after pushing through enemy territory to get to the detective she needed. He'd also heard they were going to have a celebration to honor her success and the true beginning of the search for her son. He hadn't actually seen her all morning, as their paths never seemed to cross, but the voice interrupting his painting job could only belong to one woman.
He turned his head to acknowledge her as if she'd been behind him the entire time. "You mean I'm not showin' up in this ensemble?" As he spoke, a drip of paint landed with a plop on the toe of his work boots.
Vera marched up to him and gave him a firm poke to the shoulder. "I give you clothes for a reason, Sturges. This is like the one opportunity you've got to try a different look!"
"Hey, I know how to present myself in the most flatterin' way." Sturges grinned as he made a show of flexing his arms. Given the short sleeves of his undershirt, his bulging biceps were on display as always.
Vera couldn't help the snort that escaped her. Honestly, she couldn't deny that it was true, he played the part of hunky handyman to perfection, but there was no reason for him to know that, nor was there a reason that thought should have crossed her mind. A few seconds later, the thought was gone and she was outright laughing as his flexing caused more drops of paint from his brush to splatter his coveralls.
"Surprise me. I'll be interested to see which outfit you pick out."
"No pressure…" he wrinkled his nose, finally setting the brush down on the tray.
"Hey, if you cooperate, there might be a drink in it for you. We've got our new bar up and running, and it would be the perfect chance to try it out."
"You don't need to buy me a drink, Ms. Vera, I'll get a different outfit!"
"Heh, I've got enough caps to buy the bartender out of everything he's got. Granted, he's got a small stock at the moment, but still." Vera shook her head with a smile. "Everyone has been so helpful since I showed up. I think everybody's got a drink on the house." She turned to leave. "See you in a little bit, okay?"
Sturges watched her walk away for a few seconds, then looked down at his coveralls, scratching his head. He had some work to do.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
"How do you like the sound system, Mama Murphy?"
"What?! I can't hear you over this music!" the old woman harped.
Vera laughed and came to sit next to her at the table. "Sturges had a practice run over at Starlight, so he got this all set up real quick. Livens up the place, doesn't it?"
"Someday, we're gonna find more songs to play, or somebody's gonna record some new ones. You live to be my age and you've heard them all a million times. Me, I'm just here for the drinks." Mama Murphy chuckled as she raised her glass to her mouth.
"So, the new bartender is a welcome improvement then?"
"I'll say. That one can mix a mean Dirty Wastelander."
Vera raised an eyebrow. "A what now?"
But Mama Murphy ignored her. She spied a newcomer to the party behind Vera's head, and she practically hooted. "Sturges! That you, son?"
When Vera spun to look for herself, her eyes fell on the nervous form of Sturges. Despite his size, he looked small as he kept his hands shoved in his pockets and looked around warily. He was definitely out of his element, and she recognized right away why Mama Murphy was raising a scene; not only was he out of his coveralls for the first time that she could actually recall, but he'd chosen a pair of nice slacks with suspenders. The dress shirt didn't quite fit his muscular physique, so the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. For whatever reason, her stomach did a small turn. "Damn, Sturges! I thought maybe jeans and a T-shirt, maybe a little flannel, but you showed up to play!" She shot up out of her seat before she even realized it.
He rolled his eyes as he came to a stop before the two women. "Says the woman in a pink dress. Like you've ever been out and about in a dress before." He poked her lightly on the forehead. "Your idea, not mine."
"Ah, she's got all kinds of good ideas, doesn't she?" Mama Murphy cackled, returning to her drink. "My favorite is still the bartender."
"Oh, that reminds me! Mama Murphy said something about a 'Dirty Wastelander'. I've never had one before, and apparently they are this guy's specialty. Want to go with me and get one? Remember, it's on me…"
"You honestly expect me to let you buy me a drink? Last time I checked, the gentleman buys the drink for the lady."
"Oooh boy, here comes the entertainment!" The pair turned to look at Mama Murphy, then looked back at each other with a slight blush.
"Fine. I'll buy mine, you buy yours. Deal?"
"Deal."
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
She enjoyed the beverage enough to buy a second. For all Sturges' bravado, he didn't want to spend too much on himself, so he kept it to one and nursed it throughout the evening. It was interesting, he contemplated as he observed his companion mingling with the other settlers. She wouldn't touch a cigarette, and the only chems she ever carried were for Mama Murphy's visions, but she did enjoy her alcohol. He wondered if she had always been that way before the bombs fell or if it was some kind of coping mechanism after everything went south. It certainly seemed to loosen her up.
"Sturges!"
He jolted out of his thoughts. "Yeah?"
Vera placed her hands on her hips with a teasing grin. "Can't hear over your own sound system? I've been calling you."
"Ah, sorry. What's up?"
"You still remember how to do the jitterbug, don't you?"
"The what?"
"That dance I showed you at the diner. This is a good number for it, and I'd hate to have you fall out of practice."
Sturges looked around at the crowd of people and swallowed nervously. "But…there's people…"
"And? Let 'em watch. You'll look damn good." Before he could protest further, she pulled him to his feet. In all fairness, she would never have been able to pull him up if he didn't go along with it, but she was too buzzed to pay that any mind.
You keep a' knockin' but you can't come in…
He automatically trained his eyes to the floor, watching her feet and hoping it would somehow come back to him. He had next to no recollection of what to do, but he did find that it took much less time to get into it than it had the last time. When he finally risked a look up, he was dazzled by the grin on her face. It was enough to have him missing a step and falling off the beat. "Sorry…" he mumbled.
"Don't be. You're trying. For me. That's all that really matters."
His mouth went dry again. Was this Vera talking, or was the alcohol making her say funny things? Either way, the song was over, and the DJ's voice rang out loud and clear. Was it just him, or did the DJ sound…different than usual?
If there's someone special in your life, then this next song is for you. If there isn't, feel free to take this opportunity to resent the happy couples around you. Here's…
"I'm going to get another drink," Vera interjected abruptly, drowning out the title of the song. Before he could say another word, she was making a bee-line for the bar. He blinked. Then, the same dramatic horn line from the diner met his ear. A few of the settlers with significant others were starting to sway to the slower ballad. He looked back at Vera, who was eagerly taking the glass from the bartender and beginning to down it. Things were starting to make sense.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
"Hey, Sturges."
It was late, and in the passing beam of the security lighting, he could see the flush on her cheeks from the alcohol. They'd been split up since their dance, so he wasn't sure if she'd stopped at three or not. The only thing he knew was that he'd much rather just talk to his friends over a nice molerat steak than get dressed up and deal with the lights and loud music. He'd wanted to take off a long time ago, but hadn't wanted to leave without checking in on her one more time. Now, their paths finally crossed again.
"It's late. You thinkin' of callin' it a night, Ms. Vera?"
"Yeah." She yawned unabashedly. "I was wondering if you'd walk me home."
Walk her home? She lived a few yards down the street! "If you'd like, I'd be happy to oblige." Honestly, she was looking so tipsy those few yards might be difficult, and he'd feel better knowing she made it in the right house.
"Thanks, Sturges." She hooked her arm in his and fairly led him in the right direction. Like hell she needed an escort.
Once they arrived to her front door, she turned and smiled sweetly. "I had a great time this evening. I'm so glad you came. You really do look amazing in that outfit."
He was glad it was so dark, because he knew his face was turning red. "And that dress looks real good on you. Now we'll just have to find another reason to get dressed up."
"I hope so. I want to do this again." She reached out and took his hands before he could react. "Thanks for walking me home. You really are a gentleman."
Suddenly, he found her leaning closer, eyes falling closed as her mouth seemed to search for his. In another way, this would have been a dream come true, but this way… He pulled his hands out of her grip and took a step back, nearly sending her falling. "I'm sorry. You're…you've had a lot to drink. I don't think you…I mean, I don't want you to…"
"I know what I'm doing!" she insisted, eyes now welling with tears and face burning with embarrassment at her rejection.
"You're lonely, Ms. Vera." And that was the hard truth. No matter what he wished, whatever he'd been imagining between them was just her trying to fill the gap left by her husband. He hadn't realized how stuck on her he was until this realization punched him in the gut. "When the alcohol wears off, you would regret it. You're still in love with Nate, and I'm not going to pretend you've moved on when you can't even listen to that one song without reaching for the bottle." He set his jaw. "Go to bed. Sleep it off. Dogmeat will keep you company."
He couldn't wait for a response. She wouldn't give a logical one in this state. Instead, he marched off down the road, sticking in the shadows where the people still partying wouldn't notice his state of distress or his own tears.