Title: Dating for Dummies
Author: Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
Teaser: A lonely bartender gets an earful when three women enter, fully
intent on getting drunk, and three men are the reason.
Sequel: Vignette-y fluffy installment in the 'How to Date...' universe.
Pairing: Angel/Cordelia, Wesley/Faith, and Fred/Gunn. Lorne/Kate implied.
Rating: Very R for hard core sexual situations and adult situations.
Notes: Just a fun follow-up due to requests. It's not nearly as long
as How to Date, I'm hoping for five chapters, at the most. Much fluff.
Some angst. Some sex. The usual.
--
Part IV: Meeting Fred
Look at these eyes
They've never seen what matters
Look at these dreams
So beaten and so battered
I don't know much
But I know I love you
And that may be all I need to know
--
It was only in the early evenings that she really thought about Texas and Gunn. Fred's mind tended to run along at a furious pace. She would have compared it to a train, but really, it took so many twists and turns, that after a few moments of deliberation, she had to compare it to a school of fish, darting back and forth, but eventually heading toward the same direction, though nobody knew how or why. They just... did. Thoughts always drifted in and out, she never really stopped thinking, not even while she was asleep. If she did, it was rare, and as far as she could remember, it had only happened recently, usually during those times when Gunn's hands or his mouth or his... erm... other body parts were doing something to some part of her.
There was some unforeseeable power in Gunn's touch, in his caresses, that made her lose her capacity to think all together, moments of passion infused in her that made her need for him insatiable. When her mouth slid hotly along his collarbone, she wasn't thinking about equations and what-if's, but about HIM, his body, his eyes, his rhythm. It was the first intimate relationship she had been in, maybe for this very reason. Sensation gave way to reason, emotion gave way to logic, and when she was in his arms, returning his kisses - it wasn't that she didn't WANT to think about things - it was that... she couldn't.
She never thought about consequences, or what other people would say or do, but only of herself, of him, when she was with him. There was only that moment, and it had been so liberating, at first. They were young, and in love, but this not thinking... She had come to realize that those times, when she wasn't thinking - those were the most dangerous times of all.
It was how she ended up here, restricted to one side of a full size bed by a six foot bed hog. She didn't mind. In fact, she rather liked it when Gunn held her this way, spooned up against her, snoring slightly, cuddling her into him. That had been a surprise, him being all snuggly. She never would have guessed that. Charles was a tough man. He grew up on the streets, protecting by killing, fighting, and for the longest time, he never even had a bed. He was hard and cold and brittle - that was the impression he gave off. Funny, how she had never believed that. She had always seen SOME spark of warmth in him, but it was still a surprise, the tenderness he was capable of. By appearances, he had always appeared so... distant and stand-off-ish. But he wasn't. He cuddled. When he slept, it was usually with a kiss on her bare shoulder, a sweet touch of his lips and a sleepy 'good night, don't let the bed bugs bite'.
Faith had once told Fred, quite frankly, that she didn't think Fred was a type to handle the 'fuck buddy' business very well. Those were her exact words. 'Fuck Buddy'. It was so crude and... horrible. Not at all close to what she had with Charles. But sex was a factor. Sex she had never had before, and it was dangerously close to habit, to do it frequently. It was getting to a point where Fred didn't feel comfortable in bed without Gunn's male form behind her, couldn't sleep on the other side of the bed even when he wasn't there.
And she thought. About so many things. But not the consequences. Never the consequences - and she should have.
But even now, she couldn't stand to think of them, not the aching pit in her stomach, or her tremoring heart, not now. Not when things were so mixed up, and especially, not when his fingers caressed her naked form while her mother's cheery voice echoed tinny in her ear, completely unaware that her innocent daughter had her very large, very male lover in her bed.
It had been a surprising phone call, one that Fred was NOT expecting, a weekly check-up that came a day too soon because of her mother's bingo game unexpectedly rescheduled. Fred's frazzled mind wasn't quite ready to take it. There was too much to be scared of now, too much to think about, all these thoughts... and Gunn was sleeping there, and he had no idea, and then Trish Burkle called to check up on her daughter.
And Charles had this very dangerous habit of snoring.
Fred had done her best to sound normal. Unfortunately, 'normal' involved a certain level of loudness, and hyperness, and Fred couldn't do that now. Even if she could, the last thing she needed was her mother hearing Gunn's sleepy voice right behind her.
So she listened, her deadened heart thumping, counting beats, while her mother continued to worry with the best of intentions.
"Fred, honey, I just don't think it's appropriate, all that at work romancin'. What with Wesley practically livin' with that 'ex-con'-"
"Faith, Mommy," Fred corrected in a near whisper, trying to lay perfectly still, for fear her boyfriend would wake up. Charles mumbled something behind her. Her heart jumped slightly, and she reached back, pressed her hand to his lips in an attempt to shush his sleep talking. Oh, thank GOD he wasn't snoring. "And she can be very nice...when she's not cursing."
"Yes, dear - I know she served her time, and she's helpin' the helpless, Good heavens, Cordelia adores her, but ... and it's not just that. Cordelia raising Angel's baby, and not much else I hope..."
"Mother!" she hissed, startled into surprise.
Trish Burkle, best damned bus driver in Texas, sighed, a delicate twang on her voice that made Fred swallow. "Sweetheart, I love your friends, I do. They consider you family, and because of that, all of 'em are like my own. The whole lot, even Angel. They save the world, and it's wonderful that you're a part of that - but they're livin' in sin." Of course, it WOULD be at that moment, that Gunn's roamy hands would absently move up her abdomen, bump against a breast, and proceed to knead it. Shock filtered through it, and then her baser instinct took over with a gasp. She could have killed him. Even sleeping Charles got horny. Geez. Biting her lower lip, she sucked in her breath, clamping her thighs together.
"Fred?"
"Yes, ma?" she managed breathlessly. When she began to arch against him, it was more than a problem.
"You seem distracted, honey."
"Sorry, just a sec..." With shaking hands, she reached down, grabbing his hand and pulling them away from her chest, redepositing them on her stomach. Sleepy Gunn didn't seem to mind. He shuffled against her, pressed himself closer to her, and once again became a dead weight. A very turned on dead weight. Fred gulped. "I... Mommy? What were ya sayin'?"
Her mother had apparently used the time to think, because a big heavy sigh came through the receiver. "Look, Fred. I know you might think I'm old fashioned, and all, but... it's a tough city, Los Angeles, and I don't want you falling into any bad habits. There are rules, sweetie, but it's only there to keep you from getting hurt."
Getting hurt. Consequences. Thinking before passion. Reason before emotion. There were reasons for that. Fred blinked, shifting uneasily against Gunn's hardening shaft. "Mommy... are you... having the sex talk with me?"
"Goodness, Fred! You could have at least spelt it out!"
"Mother, I'm twenty-four." Gunn's sleepy, diligent fingers pressed against her abdomen, pulling her into him, and the action left her breathless, heart aching as she stared at the dark hand against her smooth, pale skin. Such a contrast. "I'm controlling myself, Mommy."
"You okay, sweetie? You sounded kinda choked there."
"I feel a little sick," Fred finally responded. "I just... I'll be fine, really."
Her mother didn't sound convinced, but Trish didn't comment. It made Fred swallow, wonder if her mother knew more than she let on. "You probably think I'm silly," Trish chuckled, suddenly sounding tired. "I mean, you're our little Fred! Smart and pretty and independent. We've raised you right and good." The words made her heart sink further, and lost, Fred's fingers closed over Gunn's, smoothing over the palm, searching for some form of stability. "And we trust you, we do."
"I know you do, Mommy," she whispered, a trembling smile that matched her shuddering heart overtaking her face. Her mother continued to talk, but Fred didn't listen. Her thoughts whirled now, remembering Texas, that slow town that she came from, where her haven had been her library.
It was all she knew before this. Before Los Angeles - before Pylea. Things were simpler. True, things scared her, and she preferred her research to others, but... everyone knew everyone there, on the hot dusty streets, and everyone spoke with an accent that had almost faded from her own speech. Everyone there, they were traditional...
Gunn's arms encircled her, warmth consuming her. The nausea continued to build. "When are you coming to visit?"
"Soon," she whispered. "Really soon, Mommy." It was a lie. She had just lied to her mother. God. "I love you."
"Tell your friends to be careful, we want to see them ALL for Easter."
Words of endearment that Fred barely remembered were mumbled, and then came the blessed dial tone. She wasn't aware she was trembling until she put the phone back in it's cradle, slipped further into Gunn's embrace, and stared at the blank powder blue wall.
The shift in movement caused her big old bear to stir, and lips skimming over her shoulder as he asked dizzily, "Who was that?"
He was awake. Fred froze for only the barest of a second, managing to wipe the stray tears that had drifted from her face before she craned her neck, flashing him a quick smile. "Mom."
Gunn's eyes widened. "Oh," he said, almost too casually.
His nervous response almost made her smile, her haggard emotion so fragile the short chuckle nearly released the tears. Charles never had forgotten that day that her mother, during her last visit, had hinted something along the lines of Fred going out with 'that nice Wesley', while everyone was sitting in the lobby. The pause had been considerable, until Cordelia literally dragged Faith out of the room before the temperamental Slayer had time to react. Trish, still wary around the foul mouth girl (who, to her credit, really HAD tried to control her swearing), had been completely dumbfounded until she was quickly filled in on the recent hook-ups.
"Oh," had been her response, and then, "But she wears so much... black."
--
"You do wear a lot of black," Debbie commented.
Faith, who until then, had been listening with a distracted frown, arched an eyebrow, shooting the bar maid an incredulous look. "Do you WANT me to kill you now?"
--
Fred lay back against the pillow, for the moment glad she couldn't see Gunn's face. She was so worried her face would give everything away, from the sad resignation, to the raw panic - the myriad of emotions flitting through her.
"How's she doing?"
"Good," Fred responded, "And yes, she likes you, Gunn. She asked how you were, I said you were fine."
He was quiet, and her eyes closed as his mouth pressed against her shoulder, deep in contemplation. Fred once again lost herself in her thoughts, Gunn's warmth now a reminder of what she had done - of what they had done...
God, she was so scared...
Charles' kisses were sweet, like they always were, the mention of her mother had killed his excitement, and now there was only his early morning repose. Except it was evening, and she was anything but relaxed. But Gunn, too sleepy to really catch hold of any discernment, saw none of it. Instead, his lips slipped along the curve of her neck, hot breath that made her sigh, confliction and nausea building up, pleasure and pain, as she held his arms around her closer, reached behind and stroked the nape of his neck, holding his embrace, returning his love.
"You know," he whispered, gently smoothing the wild strands of dark
hair from her face. "I was thinking... Maybe... if you think we're ready...
Maybe we should ask take a vacation. Like... go somewhere, just the two
of us." His sweet words were so full of hope, so free of restrictions.
She swallowed, eyes on the wall, suddenly wishing for the black markers
she knew were still in the
bottom dresser. "Baja... or even..." he sounded kinda nervous, pensive and hesitant in that deep 'Charles' voice, "Texas. Go visit your folks..."
The nausea twisted in her stomach, a spiral of uncomfortable ickiness that rose to the back of her throat. She kept it down. How, she had no idea. Her eyes began to stink, as her chest rose and fell with emotional breathing.
"That would be something," she whispered. Something to show up with your almost live-in boyfriend, and announce to the world, that you were-
"Yeah." When she didn't respond, his palm slipped along her forearm, and he squeezed. "It's something to think about. Hey! I know! I know it's kinda late for breakfast, but pancakes, and waffles with strawberries dripping off of them? Sound good to you?"
Images of food immediately brought their smell to mind, in living color. Her stomach gurgled, and she clamped her teeth, closing her eyes.
"You like that, right? And the syrup - at that diner that we first-"
Oh, God, she really was going to be-
"I gotta go," she whispered, scrambling now, pushing away and rising unsteadily to her feet.
"Fred!"
Hand over her mouth, Fred stumbled quickly to the bathroom, pushing open the door and landing on her knees. Panicking, she fumbled with the toilet seat, picking it up just before IT happened.
Oh, God. She hated this feeling. The loss of control as she vomited overwhelmed her, and she crumpled against the toilet. She trembled, the acrid smell disgusting her, nauseating her.
"Fred..."
She couldn't look at him, it was all becoming too real. Way too real. Moisture continued to well up in her eyes, and she knelt there, hidden, until she felt her robe slide over her shoulders. Gunn, now wearing boxers, placed a cool hand on her shoulder, carefully cupping her long tresses and pulling them off of her face.
"All right, that's it," Charles said gruffly, reaching around her to flush the toilet, sliding an arm around her to help her shaking body up. "We're getting you to a doctor. This ain't no twenty four hour flu."
"I'm fine," she said hastily.
"Fine my ass. Fred-"
"Charles, are we there yet?" she interrupted breathlessly. He paused, arms around her waist, staring into her dark brown eyes with a concerned intensity filled with love. It did something to her, a hope that she had somehow missed before. Her fingers curled around his bicep, holding onto him for support, suddenly so thankful, that he was there with her.
"Where, Fred?"
She took a breath, and let it out. "That place where we have all those serious talks and I can tell you everything - and I can say that I'm so scared, Charles."
He blinked, staring stupidly for a moment, but only a moment. A palm cupped her face, and she leaned against it thankfully, as he led her back to the bed, gently sitting her on the edge. Kneeling down, Charles took her hands in his, and there was something in his dark orbs that made her quiver.
Fear. For her.
"What are you so scared of, baby?" he asked gently. "What?"
It was all pent up inside her, and she had kept her fears hidden for what seemed like so long, it was almost twice as hard to get it out. She opened her mouth, but no sounds would come out, until they edged in a second later, barely spoken. "I think I'm pregnant."
The next five seconds were the worst in her life. Charles stared, he just stared. He didn't move, didn't speak, just stared, boring into her eyes as if he was still waiting for her answer.
And then it came, the realization, because the color drained off his face. "How?!"
"HOW?" she repeated, stunned by the question, shocked into stammering, "All the sex we had is how!"
"I know but..." his hands slipped from hers, and he got up, moving emphatically, "we used protection, and... " He whirled, coming back again. "Are you sure?"
She shrank from him, the intense look. Would she tell him if she wasn't sure? Of course not! She shrugged meekly. "I haven't... taken the test or anything. I've been scared to... but... I'm pretty sure."
"We gotta be sure, Fred! I have to be sure, because I can't BRING a kid into this world, I can't-"
"You can't?" she sputtered, eyes widening. "YOU? Charles, this baby is in ME! It's just as scary for me! This wasn't supposed to..." the words broke her, and the tears began to run down her fear, moisture that stung her. She sobbed into her hands, a mess of hot tears and wild emotions, fear overtaking any maternal instinct she had.
"Shhh. Hey... hey..." And finally, Charles became her boyfriend again, because he was back, kneeling between her, holding her in his arms. She sank into him gladly, head on his strong shoulder, shuddering softly. "Sweetie, I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to... I just... I want to be sure..."
She froze. "And if I am?"
He blew out his breath, uneasy and considering. "We'll handle it."
Something about the way he said that made her heart sink, and her mouth babbled, emotions rampant on her tears. "Is that all we'll do?" she whispered quietly. "Handle it? Charles, I'm scared-"
"I know, baby." She closed her eyes as his forehead came to rest on hers, his breath moist on her lips. "It's a baby..."
She shuddered, eyes falling on the phone. "My parents, Charles. What will they say? They were so worried already, and now-"
"What?" Gunn pulled back, eyes wide open now, staring at his girlfriend with wide-eyed innocence. "What are they worried about?"
Uh-Oh. Fred felt the sickness spread, her fingers tangling into nervous fists on her lap as she stared.
"Fred," he said, his voice harder now. "What were they worried about?"
"I..." she didn't want to say it. He would get hurt, he would take it the wrong way, and... but God- "Gunn... they don't know about... us." He blinked. "I mean, they do, but... they didn't it was... as serious... as it is."
"What do you mean?" the voice was low, surprised. Charles fingers closed around hers, and he shook his head. "Fred!"
Her tears were quickly returning, and she hastily wiped at them, anything to keep from seeing Charles. "They love you, Charles, they do, but they... they kept saying that they wanted me to be with someone with an education - a degree, someone with a future."
Oh, God. That was wrong. That was just such a wrong word. A future. Charles winced as if slapped. He swallowed hard, and his hands fell from hers, stepping back as if suddenly afraid of her.
Fred's heart lurched, her voice mottled with tears as she sat up, arms out imploringly. "Charles, they love you. You know they love you. They think you're big and strong, and you have such a beautiful heart, it's just that... they just ... we're so different, and they thought that we wouldn't... they're WRONG, Charles. They love you, but - they didn't think we fit."
Oh, God - when it came out that way, it seemed so ugly. So ugly what her parents thought, even if it was only with the best of intentions for their daughter. A man who could take care of her daughter financially, raise her children and provide a home and food and stability-
Love should have last on the list - and Fred didn't care about that. Not at all.
"What, it's like, a race thing?"
She blinked in surprise, the hostile tone taking her by surprise. "What?! NO! Charles, I can't believe you'd even think that! It has NOTHING to do with that-"
"No future?" Charles' heart was wide open, wounded in his eyes, taking a step back from her. "That's what you think? I got no future? That I couldn't bring a baby into this world, raise it, take care of it-"
"Charles, I never SAID that!" she pleaded, on her feet now, moving forward even as Charles moved back.
"But you're thinking it, right?" He kept moving back, always out of her reach. "Thinkin' that I ain't cut out to be a father. Can't raise a baby cause I don't have an education, and a degree and-"
"Charles, I'm scared because it's a baby!" she squeaked, tears streaming from her eyes as she balled her hands into fists, lost in her emotion. "A baby! A living, breathing human baby, and it's forever, and it's US! And it's ME, Charles! And yes, I'm scared about what my parents might think, because they're my PARENTS-"
"Yeah, I guess I wouldn't know about that," he stuttered angrily.
Her shoulders sank, voice breaking. "No, Charles... please don't-"
"I don't know nothing about parents. Shit, I don't know nothing 'bout family. But that's stupid me! 'Course they'd be scared their little girl got knocked up by a brother from the streets, all street and no future? Turned their fling into something that might last a while, now they're stuck with him forever. That their fear or yours, Fred?"
Fred was so wounded, she never heard the door opening, she wasn't even sure how it happened, but seconds later, her palm was stinging, and Charles was slumped against the wall, a hand held against his cheek.
The silence was appalling as clarity came back to her, even with the blurring tears, and the unfocused versions of Cordelia, Connor and Faith in the doorway, staring in open shock.
"What the hell? Who died and made this place 'Cops'?"
Charles swallowed, ignored Faith's comment. "Fred-"
But she couldn't take it, she couldn't have this talk anymore. It was hurting too much, his face and her face, and his heart and her heart, broken and scarred and the future was so uncertain, and there was so much insecurity and pain, and turmoil-
"Charles, leave."
He didn't want to, she could see it, but the imprint of her hand was embedded into his cheek, and he refocused on her, orbs clouded with moisture, before he ducked away from Faith and Cordelia and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door.
She heard the lock turn with a click.
"Oh, crap." Trembling, Fred turned, tears still drifting down her face as Cordelia stared unseeingly into the air. "Oh, crap. GREAT TIMING, guys!" she said. Fred gave Faith a curious stare, but the Slayer only shrugged, bewildered. Cordelia shook her fist at the air. "GREAT timing. REALLY appreciate this!"
"Cor? What the fuck are you on?" Faith asked, moving to stand next to Fred, a comforting hand on the waif girl's shoulder.
Cordelia's hazel eyes were distracted, but she looked resigned and just a little bit angry. "Think you're up to a bar hunt?"
"You want us to get drunk NOW?" Faith asked. "Shit, Cor, Fred's turned into a freaking water park, here!"
"VISION," Cordelia enunciated. "Some vamp's gonna eat some big-haired lady. We gotta go. Fred, come on."
"I can't leave!" she said breathlessly, mouth dropping at the absurdity of the order. Her eyes traveled to the closed bathroom door. "I just... can't!"
"Look, whatever the hell he did, I sure as hell am NOT leaving you to continue the Jerry Springer reenactment. You're coming, and you're cooling off. Get some clothes on. Faith, get her jacket."
Fred opened her mouth to protest, but Faith's firm grip was around her wrist, pulling her toward the door. Fred gave her a look. The Slayer's eyes were surprisingly warm, distant and soft, as they focused on hers. "You gotta get out," she said quietly, running a gentle finger down Fred's cheek. "Let's go, baby."
Fred closed her eyes, resisting another look at the closed door, before she followed her two friends out.
--
Rick's stomach was all in knots. He remembered once, an old girlfriend had told him the same thing. Well, not EXACTLY the same thing, but it was close - about the no future thing, and it... it hurt.
He swallowed, not having the courage to break the quiet as each woman fell silent, lost in their worlds of conflict.
"So wait... now you're psychic?" Dan asked, looking confused as he straddled the chair, dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, open to reveal his wife beater.
"Sweetie... weren't you on the pill?"
"We used condoms-"
"But what about dental dams! AND... diaphragms! And spermicide! You can never be too careful!" Debbie's eyes were round as saucers.
Faith narrowed her eyes. "You want her to use the pill, condoms, diaphragms, spermicide, and a DENTAL DAM? Why not put on a sponge? Shit, girl, might as well put on a scuba suit!"
"I'm gonna," Dan said, fussing with his tie, clearly regressed into typical 'guy' panic.
Debbie rolled her eyes. "Dan, sweetie, that's assuming you actually get LAID. You don't. You have nothing worry about."
"Well, there's an upside," Fred managed softly. Cordelia and Faith stared, and she managed a meek smile. "At least we know MINE has nothing to do with the world ending. I mean ... with Wesley all paranoid and Angel being all..."
Suddenly, all three girls froze.
"Angelus-y..." Cordelia's hands clamped to her mouth. "Oh my God - You don't think I already-"
"Unless, you could picture Angelus banging on our in the middle of the night whimpering his head off, I really don't think you have to worry."
Rick turned, encountered a pretty blonde woman with a messily pulled back pony tail, holding a baby, standing in the doorway of the bar, looking none too happy.
"We're closed-"
"Kate?" Rick blinked. Kate? Cordelia stood, moving around the bar, and coming forward. "What are you doing here? And why on earth did you bring CONNOR?"
"That's Connor!?" Debbie squealed. "OOOH! Lemme see!"
"Touch him and DIE, Skank," Cordelia said, narrowing her eyes, and hugging the baby protectively. "Keep the spermicidic mitts OFF my kid."
"Wow, you're bitchy." Debbie tossed her hair (or she tried. Rick didn't think he had EVER seen her hair actually MOVE, what with all that hairspray) and moved back to the table.
Cordelia rolled her eyes, and Rick continued to stare, open mouthed, as Fred and Faith also surrounded the older women they apparently knew.
"What are you doing here, again?" Cordelia asked.
Kate frowned, crossing her arms. "So there I was, with my Book of the Month, Lorne was JUST putting little Connor to sleep, and guess who knocks on our door? Wesley. Looking for Faith. We give him some tea, tell him to give you some time, blah, blah, blah, he leaves. I sit down with my book, Lorne sits down with his head in my lap, I start to read-"
"Shit, you guys have been living together a week, and you're already boring."
"Shut up, Faith," Kate said pleasantly. "Guess who POUNDS the damned door open, waking CONNOR? It's half crazy Angel - looking for Cordelia!" Kate rubbed at her eyes. "I didn't even wait for Gunn."
Fred shuffled.
"So I take it you know them?" Dan asked, coming up behind them. Everyone stared blankly at him, and then turned away without comment.
"Wait... so what are you doing there?"
Kate narrowed her eyes. "I'm tired. I want to read my damned book, and Lorne has a meeting at eight for the new Caritas - So. GET your asses back home, TAKE care of the shit, WORK it out, and STOP getting drunk at bars." Kate rubbed at her eyes, blinking. "Come on, I'll drive you home."
"Kate-"
"I brought my friggin' gun, Cordelia. And I have Lorne's permission to use it. You have any idea how much of a pansy he is when he doesn't get his full eight hours?" With that, she was out the door. Rick's eyes widened as the three women stared.
"You can't leave now!" Dan protested.
"Yeah!" Debbie said emphatically. "What about the rest of it?"
"The rest of it?" Cordelia said, holding her child close to her. "Is none of your business."
"Hey! We listened! We counseled! How about a little compensation, here?"
"How about you fuck off?" Faith said to the barmaid, chucking her hair. "Be glad you're not food."
"I well... dammit!" Rick ignored Dan's outburst, his hands in his pockets as he rounded the bar, smiling at the three women.
"Good luck. I hope it works out," he said simply. He handed Fred a plastic bag. "Just in case."
The three women stared, and a smile fell across Cordelia's face. "You might be the one normal person in this place," she said simply. "Including us."
"Must be nice," Fred commented.
"It's actually pretty boring."
Faith grinned, the last to leave as the two moved toward the door. "Trust me. You're not missing much."
Rick watched as the door closed behind her.
"Well, crap," Dan said, slumping down on the table. "What're we supposed to do now?"
Rick turned as silence descended over the deserted bar.
Debbie tapped her fingers on the cracked wooden table. "Spin the bottle?"
He rolled his eyes, going back to behind the bar. Bet there was a pretty good Jerry Springer on right about now.
-
end part four