J
I slowly cracked the door leading upstairs to my apartment, my eyes straining to see if I could spot her. There she was, sitting huddled up on the top landing with her face buried in her arms. Her hands were shaking ever so slightly.
I could see that her shirt had been ripped; part of her stomach was visible through the large, frayed tear. Oh my God! What happened to the poor guy?
I felt a little more courageous since she was obviously in distress, so I opened the door wider and cleared my throat so she would know I was standing there. I had no idea what to say.
"Sorry," she pleaded, cautioning me with open hands. "I'm not some crazy maniac. Please, please don't scream."
"It's fine… it's fine. I know who you are," I said in my softest voice, trying to calm her down. "Um, are you okay?"
"Not really," she whispered. She was gasping for air, her hand covered her heart. "Can you give me a minute?"
"Sure," I whispered back. "Take as long as you need."
"Not the back door, I take it?" she barely uttered, pointing her thumb over her shoulder to the door behind her.
"Ah, no. That's the door to my apartment."
I wanted to give her some privacy, so I started to back up out of the doorway.
"Are they down there?" Her trembling fingers covered her eyes, her palms pressed into her cheeks.
I looked back up at her. "No. There's no one here." I had to take another deep breath; my heart was still pounding from the surge of adrenaline.
"I threw everyone out and I locked the door. All the blinds are down too - no one can see in. It's okay, you're safe here. I'm, um, going to leave you alone now."
I quickly shut the door and returned to the bar to continue stocking the coolers with bottled beer. I needed to calm myself down. I needed a distraction.
A few minutes later, the stairwell door creaked and I saw her glance around the wall to see if the bar was truly empty. This poor girl looked absolutely terrified.
Slowly she walked to the edge of the bar.
"Do you mind if I just sit here for a while?" Lisa was speaking so softly I almost couldn't hear her.
"Yeah, sure. Please, have a seat," I whispered, matching her tone. "Can I get you something to drink? Soda, or a beer… maybe even a shot or two?"
She was holding her head in her hands, her elbows rested on the bar.
"Can I, um, have a beer?" she breathed out.
She looked shaken and in no condition to decide what kind of beer to drink, so I quickly grabbed a mug and tapped her a draft. She started to fumble through her pockets; her hands were still trembling.
"That's okay. Please, don't worry about it, it's on the house."
"Are you sure?" she asked timidly. "You don't have to do that. I don't want you to get in trouble."
"No, it's all right. It's my pub. I'm the owner," I said, shrugging slightly.
Lisa's eyes narrowed on me. "Thanks. You don't know how much I appreciate this." She pushed out a big, relieving sigh. A little smile appeared on her lips.
"It's no problem. Please, just sit and relax, and don't worry, I promise I won't bother you," I said softly. I held up my hands briefly to let her know that I'd be keeping my distance.
I grabbed another six-pack of beer out of the cardboard case and opened the cooler again. My nervousness caused me to almost drop the pack, knocking over more bottles inside the cooler in the process. I had to lean far in to reach the bottles that had tipped over and out of the holder, and for a moment I almost fell into the cooler myself.
I felt so uneasy by my careless fumbling, knowing that she must have just seen my feet come up off the floor, that I started to become flush. Fortunately the cold temperature in the cooler counterbalanced the heat rising to my cheeks. Perhaps if I stay in here I won't have to look at her?
Just then I heard a phone ring. I popped my head out of the cooler and felt my pocket for my cell phone, but it wasn't mine that was ringing.
"Hey, Mike. Yeah, I'm safe. I'm at some bar," Lisa muttered, trying to sound like she was fine. The hand that rubbed her forehead was still shaking. She wasn't fine.
She looked at me as she held her phone away from her face. She was blinking rapidly and she looked confused for a moment. "Ahh, what's the name of this place?"
"Kim's Pub." I slid a new napkin with our family name on it to her.
"A place called Kim's Pub. Listen, I'll call you when I'm ready. I'm just having a beer."
"My driver," she stated, like she could read the question in my mind. "I suppose he thinks he might get fired by the studio for losing track of me."
I had no idea what to say, so I gave her a brief smile and darted away into the kitchen. I figured she wanted to be left alone anyway; distracting myself by stocking the coolers sounded like a good idea. I took my time to load up two cases of beer onto the metal cart and wheeled them back into the bar.
She was still sitting there as I unloaded the cases by the bar refrigerators. I tried not to look at her. She's probably so sick of people bugging her. As soon as she finishes that beer, she'll call her driver. What would be the point of talking to her? Just leave her alone.
She stared at me while I emptied the cases of beer into the coolers. I could see out of the corner of my eye that her head turned and her eyes followed me when I took the empty boxes back to the kitchen. I still couldn't make myself look at her.
Lisa cleared her throat when I returned. "Well, you obviously know who I am. Can I ask what your name is?" Her tone was very polite and friendly.
"Jennie," I replied, glancing at her for a split second through the curtain of hair that spilled from my shoulder. I pulled my hair back out of my way and tried to refocus my eyes on putting away the clean glasses that remained on the sink counter.
"It's nice to meet you, Jennie."
"It's nice to meet you too." My nervousness made my responses sound unintentionally indifferent.
"So, Jennie, do you have a last name?"
"Kim?" I squeaked. So much for appearing casual and un-ruffled!
"Ah, I see," she murmured as she held up the bar napkin with Kim's Pub insignia on it. "Are you sure you don't mind if I stay for a few minutes? Then I promise I'll be out of your hair."
"It's no problem, really," I whispered, giving her a brief, friendly smile.
My nerves were tangled in knots so I had to keep busy. I grabbed a new liquor order form and took it to the other end of the bar to fill it out.
I could feel her watching me, even though I refused to look up and confirm that feeling. Maybe I shouldn't have worn this top today? Could she see down the front when I bent over? I fixed my shirt at the shoulders, trying to inconspicuously see if I could see any cleavage. I'll have to change my shirt after she leaves. Her beer is almost finished.
I tried not to make eye contact with her, but I could still tell that she was staring; her head turned and followed every move I made. I felt a little strange as she gawked at me, so I picked up the television remote and turned the large flat screen on; maybe she needed something else to look at. But she didn't seem to notice the television.
I allowed myself another quick look at her and observed that her brow was pulled together. She looked confused; either that or she was deep in thought.
"Are you doing okay?" I asked, concerned.
"Yeah, I think so." She nodded and combed her fingers back through her hair. "I was just wondering, are you always this talkative?"
I was trying to appear preoccupied by filling the garnish holder with drink swizzle straws. I smiled bashfully at her comment.
"I thought you'd prefer to be left alone. I'm sure the silence and peace must be refreshing," I murmured, assuming she'd agree.
She laughed lightly at my comment.
"It is, but it's also nice to be able to talk to a woman who isn't screaming at me," she said, looking a bit more relaxed. "You're not going to scream at me, are you?"
"No," I said in my softest, non-threatening tone. That's when I noticed the laceration on her face.
"Are you sure you're okay? I don't know if you realize it, but you have a pretty big scratch on your face." Now that I was able to actually look at her more closely, I saw the dried streak of blood that ran down her neck.
Lisa rubbed her eyes and sighed heavily. "Unbelievable," she murmured.
I opened up the first aid kit I kept behind the bar and picked out an alcohol swab.
"Is it that bad?" she asked.
I nodded gently. "There's some blood. It's not that bad, but you should clean it just in case."
"I can feel it," Lisa muttered as she ran her fingers over the raised marks. "My jaw hurts."
"Don't touch it," I cautioned, pulling the first aid kit closer. I attempted to hand her the swab, but she seemed perfectly fine with letting me tend to her.
"Um, can you tilt a little bit more?" I asked nervously. My hand trembled slightly as I wiped the swab across her wound, trying to be as gentle as possible. There were actually two distinct fingernail marks across her jaw. I saw her eyes scrunch together; the alcohol must have stung a little.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "Almost done."
Lisa was gazing at my face while I put some antibiotic cream over the raised scratches. I noticed her eye color was a beautiful brown making them very striking. It was hard to look at anything else.
"Thanks," she said, softly and sincerely.
I wiped the remaining cream off my finger. "I don't mean to be intrusive, but may I ask what happened to you today?" Secretly I was dying to know how she got in this condition.
"Um," she began, "I had some errands to run but I guess I didn't get too far." A broken smile appeared on her lips as she scratched her eyebrow with her thumb. "It's actually a bit embarrassing."
"That's okay. I understand if you don't want to talk about it." I politely dismissed my question and closed the lid on the first aid kit.
"Ahh," she groaned, keeping me engaged in conversation. "I went out to see if I could get a present for my mom; her birthday is in a few weeks. I had some free time today, so I escaped from the hotel and went for a walk. I managed to go into one of the shops down the street, but couldn't find anything I wanted to buy."
She took a sip of beer, pausing to collect her thoughts. Her eyes focused on the bar instead. "When I left the store, there were a handful of women waiting for pictures or autographs or something. I tried to be polite and walk away but…"
She let out a big sigh. "One girl grabbed me and tried to pull my shirt off. Then the chase started." Her lips twisted in disgust. "I took off running and here I am. I feel like I just got mugged."
"It sounds to me like you did get mugged. Do you want me to call the police?"
"No," she said, shaking her head infinitesimally. "They were just excited fans."
I reached up to the top shelf for my unopened bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue, thinking that we both needed something special to calm us down.
"Would you like one?" I asked.
Her eyes widened and she nodded enthusiastically.
"You have good taste," she complimented.
I briefly smiled and pushed a filled shot glass in her direction. She tapped her glass into mine before tossing it back in her mouth.
"Do you mind if I ask you another question?" I asked tentatively. I still wasn't sure if she wanted to be ignored.
"No, I don't mind. Please – ask." Lisa winced and puckered her lips from the after burn of the whiskey. Her expression was slightly amusing.
"Well, I'm just curious why you're walking around without an escort. Don't you usually have bodyguards with you?"
"Yeah, most of the time," she shyly admitted. "I just really wanted to go for a walk by myself. It's beautiful outside today. I didn't think I needed security to do that, but I suppose I should rethink that, huh?" she said while examining the large rip in her T-shirt. "Damn. This was one of my favorites."
I couldn't help but nod in agreement with her statement; a shot of whiskey was burning my throat now. I refilled our shot glasses; it would take more than one to calm me down.
"Would you excuse me for a moment?" I asked politely. "I'll be right back."
I ran upstairs to get her a new T-shirt. There was a huge hole in her shirt and I felt terrible for her. On my way through my apartment, I stopped to check my appearance in the mirror. Great, my nipples are standing at attention. Guess I was in the cooler too long? I tried to push them back in as I picked the clean T-shirt out of the laundry basket. It was still warm from when I took it out of the dryer this morning.
"Here. Please… take this." I handed her my favorite oversized T-shirt. It was dark blue and soft from many washes. "Your T-shirt is really torn. You can't walk around looking like that. The bathroom is over there if you would like to change."
"Thanks! Thanks a lot!" Lisa unfolded the shirt and looked at it, appearing very puzzled. "Wait, this shirt can't be yours. It's way too big. Is this your…"
I shook my head. "No, it's mine – well it used to be my father's but now it's a very comfortable sleep shirt." My admission made me shrug. "I just washed it. I'm sorry, it's all I have. You don't have to… I just thought..."
She smiled at me and pulled the shirt out of my reach. She wadded it up in her hand and departed for the restrooms. The way she looked at me made me question if she ever gets treated with kindness by strangers. My gesture seemed to take her by surprise.
When she returned, she held her hands out from her sides. Her posture asked the unspoken question for me to give my opinion.
When I wore that shirt it fit me like a dress, but on her body the soft cotton covered her physique like second skin. I noticed the contours of her defined chest through the thin fabric and how the sleeves accentuated her muscular biceps.
I nodded and smirked. She looked gorgeous in my T-shirt.
"I think it fits you better," I murmured, noticing that the color made her eyes even more alluring.
"It's really soft, and it smells really good too." She had the collar pulled up to her nose. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." I smiled warmly. I was pleased that she no longer looked like a victim.
"So you live upstairs?"
I nodded; my eyes instinctively flashed up to the ceiling. I still couldn't look directly in her eyes. "My apartment is the entire second floor."
"Roommates?" she asked, almost expecting me to say yes.
"No, I live alone," I informed quickly.
"Cats?" she questioned.
I laughed lightly at her insinuation. "No. I'm allergic to them."
Lisa grinned and pushed her empty glass forward on the bar. "Me too," she mumbled. We tapped our shot glasses together and downed our second shot of whiskey.
"Would you like another beer?" I didn't want to assume.
She nodded and smiled. "Yes, please. If you don't mind."
While I was refilling her glass the keg kicked, sending a pop of foam all over my face, shirt, and hair. Oh great, perfect timing. I suppose by the way she laughed at me that she thought it was amusing.
"You have my kind of luck," she admitted.
"Ugh," I groaned, wiping myself off with a bar rag.
Lisa had a huge grin on her face. As much as I was embarrassed, her smile was quite contagious.
I reached down to pull the empty keg from the cooler and gasped slightly when I noticed she had come around the back of the bar. She was standing there staring at me again.
"Here, let me help you. It's the least I can do." She gently wiped some beer froth from my hair then moved me out of the way to grab the empty keg. I felt flush – like my heart skipped a beat.
I noticed that when she was right next to me she sniffed me; she even leaned in to get a better whiff.
"Is that you that smells like… peaches?"
I looked at her out of the corner of my eye as I reflexively leaned away. I smelled my shirt to get a better understanding of what she was referring to.
"I guess so," I answered.
Lisa leaned over closer and smelled me again. I instinctively leaned farther away, almost tipping off-balance. Her nostrils opened wider and a slight grin appeared on her lips.
"Peach scented perfume?" she asked.
"No. Just soap and body lotion." Why is this person sniffing me? "Do I smell bad?"
"No. Quite the opposite." She smiled and inhaled deeply through her nose, like she was sensing the most pleasing of all scents. She muttered something about being a first under her breath. I didn't understand.
"So, you really own this place?" Lisa asked, carrying the empty keg to the back room for me.
"You sound surprised."
"Well, I'm not the best judge of a woman's age, but aren't you sort of young – I mean, you look about as old as I am and you own your own business."
Her observation didn't bother me. I was used to having people make assumptions as to how I was able to afford a pub while only being twenty-seven.
"Well, my grandfather was the original Kim. Then when he passed away my dad took it over," I informed her. "My father died a little over a year ago, it's been mine ever since."
"Oh, I'm sorry – about your father," she corrected. "And your mom? Is she…?"
"No," I murmured. "She died four years ago – right after I turned twenty-three."
"Wow. I'm sorry to hear that. So do you have any brothers or sisters?"
I just shook my head. "No." I shrugged, trying to sound content and cheerful. "Just me."
I hated the reminder that I was alone in this world. I wheeled around the cart to load up a new keg of beer as the sadness washed over me.
"Here, let me do that." Lisa placed her hand in the small of my back and gently moved me out of the way so she could take over loading the keg on the cart. I jumped ever so slightly when her fingers made contact with my body; I was surprised that she touched me.
We were so close that I could smell the scent emanating from her body; she had a slightly spicy but light and manly aroma. She smelled wonderful. I breathed in another whiff of her while I could, only I wasn't so obvious about it.
Lisa gave the keg a good shove to get it into the cooler under the taps. Why did I notice the muscles in her arms flex? I had to shake the thought from my head.
"Thank you." I smiled.
"Sure! No problem," she said happily.
"This bar is beautiful." She rubbed her hands across the mahogany rail as she returned to her seat. "You don't see craftsmanship like this anymore. The scrolling and detail is magnificent."
"My grandfather built it." I beamed. "Every time I look at it, it makes me smile. He put so much of himself into this place. All this woodwork you see was done by his hands. The booths, the wainscoting, he built it all."
Lisa stood up and walked toward the enormous wooden pillar that spanned from floor to ceiling.
"Your grandfather was a talented man." Her fingers were busy tracing the intricate patterns carved in the dark oak post. "I really like the exposed red brick too. This place reminds me of a pub I was in once when I filmed in Ireland. Has that authentic feel to it, you know?"
"Thanks!" I replied. Her compliment seemed very genuine and made me smile. "I always thought this place had that old-world charm too."
Her gaze rolled over to the far end of the pub. "That's a pretty big stage. You have bands play here?"
"Yeah, just about every Friday and Saturday night. I've been thinking about doing open-mic nights during the week too."
Lisa was distracted. "Yamaha," she said in an amusing voice, drifting her fingers down the keys. "Your piano?"
"Yes." I nodded. For some unknown reason I followed her over to the stage. "That's my baby grand. It was a birthday gift from my grandfather."
"Cool. Looks like you have a pretty impressive sound system. Lighting and everything." Her hand pointed and waved in the air.
Lisa's eyes flickered over to the opposite wall and she strolled away to investigate another part of the pub. Something else had captured her attention.
"What do you say to a game of pool?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at me as she stood in the brick archway that led into the poolroom.
"You want to shoot pool – with me?" I actually looked over my shoulder to see if she was talking to someone else, even though I knew full well there was no one else here.
"Sure! That is if you're up to it. I haven't been able to play in a long time." Her voice trailed, a hint of sadness etched her words.
I shook my head, wondering why she would want to spend any more time here than she had to. Maybe she is just being polite?
"I don't know," I whispered.
"Come on, please? Just one game. I'll even let you win."
"Why, don't you think I can beat you on my own?" Does she think all girls suck at shooting pool or is she just teasing me?
"Well, I don't know. Are you really good? You'll probably kick my butt," she conceded. "But I think I'll take my chances. Come on, one game. I just need to get my mind on something else."
"Okay, one game." I nodded and proceeded to pick out a pool stick. She was rather irresistible when she pleaded like that.
"I'll rack, you can break," Lisa said, placing the billiard balls in the wooden triangle.
I leaned over the table in my breaking stance and cracked the stick into the cue ball, pocketing a striped ball.
"Huh, I think I'm in trouble!" she chuckled.
I made the next shot, but missed the third. It was her turn.
"So you're a lefty?" she asked while she chalked the tip of her pool stick.
"No, not really. I'm ambidextrous," I shyly admitted.
"Ambidextrous?" she smiled. "Very interesting."
Her reaction made me feel like I had to explain. "I'm mostly right-handed, but I shoot pool and I throw with my left."
"I tried to write with my left hand once when I had my right arm in a sling, but it was nothing but scribble. Can you write with your left hand?" she motioned as if she was writing on paper.
"Yeah, but it feels awkward and I can only print. I think I would have been a lefty, but I remember the teachers in grade school forcing me to use my right hand instead. I was always slightly confused with which scissors to use."
She smiled at me again. After all these years, she was the first person who ever noticed that about me.
"Sometimes I wish I could write with both of my hands. It would probably make autograph signing more tolerable." She smirked.
Lisa tried to make a bank shot, but missed. Her beer glass was almost empty so I quickly walked over to the bar and tapped a pitcher of beer and got a glass for myself. I always shot pool better when I was relaxed, and I was anything but relaxed at this moment.
"May I ask what you did to get your arm in a sling?" I glanced up at her while lining up for my next shot.
She smiled innocently and laughed. "It's a funny story, actually."
"I like funny stories." I shrugged a bit.
"Ahh, when I was around nine years old - my brother Nick was eleven, we had this bright idea to make a go-cart. We super-glued one of my mom's laundry baskets to a skateboard and a…"
I couldn't help but make a silly face at her.
"Wait, it gets better," she said with a laugh. "At first we just tied the basket to the back of my brother's bicycle and I, of course, got to ride in the back. But we couldn't get up enough speed. So we rolled the basket to the top of 12th Street hill. I climbed in and Nick gave me a shove. Did you know that you can't steer a laundry basket on a skateboard?"
I could picture her as a kid careening down a hill in a laundry basket. I started to laugh.
"That's how I got this scar right here." Lisa twisted her right arm to show me the mark on her elbow.
"Twenty stitches." She grinned proudly.
I shook my head and smiled, imagining her being an adventurous little daredevil when she was young.
"Hey, it sounded like a good idea at the time!"
I noticed another scar across her right forearm. "How did you get that one?" I pointed to the mark in question.
"Ahh, fishing accident." She laughed. "Nick again. Caught me with a hook once while we were fishing with our dad. I yelled, he yanked, and I got more stitches. To this day I stay far away from him when we're fishing. What about you?" she asked. "Got any good scar stories?"
"I have to think about that one for a minute. Wait, I have one - on my right knee."
"Well you know you have to show it to me now," she teased.
I hesitantly pulled up the leg of my jeans to reveal the dime-sized circular scar on my kneecap. I was relieved that I had shaved my legs this morning.
"I don't remember if I was six or seven, but I got ther the day my dad took the training wheels off my bike," I admitted. "I think there's a cinder or two still stuck in there." My finger pushed on the spot.
"Ha! It's a good story, but that's not a very good scar. It's barely noticeable," she added after rubbing her finger over my faint mark.
"Sorry, it's all I have. I usually go right for breaking bones instead of getting simple scars."
"How many?" she asked while taking her next shot on the table.
"What? Broken bones? Two - left wrist and right ankle."
"And are there good stories that go along with the broken bones?" she asked, sounding hopeful.
"Right ankle isn't that exciting. I slipped and fell on some icy steps at college." I took a sip from my beer glass. "Left wrist, however, has a better punch line. Let's just say that's the day I learned that tequila and rollerblading should never be used in the same sentence."
Lisa started laughing. "That's something I would have liked to see!"
"What about you? Did you ever break any bones?"
She looked at me and nodded. "Quite a few actually. Mostly fingers and toes, but I had my left arm broken once in high school. I was playing baseball and got taken out by the third baseman."
While she was telling me her story, I missed my shot; it was her turn.
"Thanks! Thanks a lot!" she quipped. "You're killing me here! Do you think you could have at least left me a shot?"
I could tell she was just teasing me. She walked around the table looking for an angle as I had tucked the cue ball behind the eightball.
I noticed that I was able to look at her now for more than two seconds at a time. I watched as the fingers of her left hand formed into a bridge while she was lining up to take her next shot. She had really long fingers. The muscles on her forearm flexed when she stroked the pool stick in her hand.
From my current angle, I took in the visions of her long legs and how the back pockets of her jeans curved on her shape. And when she leaned over the table, my blue T-shirt separated from her body, exposing some tight flesh on her stomach. I could see what the big draw was for her fans… and it wasn't her pool-playing skills.
"Eightball in the corner pocket," I stated as I drew my stick back to make the shot that she had missed. With one precise movement, I tapped the cue ball and pocketed the eight.
"Good job!" Lisa held her hand up and gave me a gentle high-five hand slap. I started to put my pool stick back on the wall when she interrupted me.
"Oh, no! You have to play me again!" she handed the pool stick back to me. "I'm just warming up."
"Okay, one more," I agreed. "You can break this time."
When it was my turn again, I noticed that she stood right behind the pocket that I was aiming for. I was lining up for my shot but it was difficult as she was shifting her weight back and forth from foot to foot.
"Um, can you move?" I asked, motioning with my hand.
"What? Am I bothering you?" she snickered.
"No. Well yeah, it's kind of annoying actually." I lined back up for my shot, concentrating on the game. She moved a few feet away and then started twirling her pool stick back and forth. Her movements were such a distraction that I missed an easy shot.
"Oh, good try," she complimented, although I could tell by her tone that she really wanted me to miss it.
Lisa was trying to make a long shot, so I moved to stand behind the pocket she was aiming for. I got into a comfortable stance, casually tugging my jeans down a bit further on my hips, and slipped my fingers under my shirt to softly scratch my stomach.
Her eyes toggled between trying to play pool and watching me scratch my fake itch. She let out a big breath and missed her shot.
"Oh, good try," I patronizingly complimented.
"I see!" she laughed. "You don't play fair either!"
I grinned and shrugged slightly; we both were busted trying to distract each other. She wrinkled her nose at me and made a funny face. It was actually quite adorable.
When I leaned down to make my next shot she stood directly behind the pocket again. This time she lifted the front of her T-shirt enough to fake a stomach scratch. I could see the her stomach. One naughty little thought ran through my head, but despite that I made the shot anyway.
"Nice try. But the twirling of the pool stick was more of a distraction than that was!"
I had to walk past her, and when I did she stuck the bottom of her pool stick between my feet, causing me to trip. She caught me with her free arm to keep me from falling.
"Ass!" I snickered.
"Sorry, I can't help it if you're falling for me," she said confidently.
"Pff, hardly," I muttered. I leaned my pool stick up on the wall.
"Come on. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Don't walk away," she pleaded.
"I'm just going to the ladies room," I stated over my shoulder. Lisa trotted up behind me.
"What, are you following me now?" I kidded.
"Hardly." She smiled a cocky grin at me and gave me an innocent little shove towards the ladies room door.
A few moments later, we resumed game two and it was her turn to shoot.
"So Jennie, tell me. Are you a fan of Seaside, too?" she asked, monitoring my reaction.
"No. I haven't seen it," I said calmly. It was the truth. I took a sip of my beer and contemplated refilling my glass.
"You haven't seen the movie? For real?" she was frozen in her spot, gaping at me like I had two heads growing out of my shoulders.
"No, I haven't." I shook my head. I guess she was amazed at that revelation; her open mouth turned up into a smile.
"Yeah right!" she snorted and took a sip of her drink.
"What, do you think I'm lying to you?" I couldn't help but look her directly in the eyes.
"What about the Seaside books? Did you read any of them?"
"No, I haven't. Everyone I know has though. I suppose that's why you're so popular these days?" I shrugged and finished my beer.
She twitched her lips into a smirk. "Yeah… I think you're lying to me." She scratched her forehead again.
Her accusation irritated me; I didn't like being called a liar but I remained amicable nonetheless. I got up from my seat and walked over to where she stood by the pool table. I stopped two feet in front of her and looked her directly in the eyes, making sure to hold her gaze before I spoke.
"I honestly have not seen your movie nor have I read the books. You can see in my eyes that I'm not lying. I don't know what else to say to make you believe me."
Lisa stood perfectly still, looking dumbfounded. After a few seconds I broke our eye contact and walked over to the table where I had set the pitcher of beer. I filled my glass and looked to see where her glass was. Might as well give her a refill, too. I stepped towards her to top off her drink.
"What?" I asked carefully. She looked like she was in a trance. "Did I… say something wrong? I'm, I'm sorry I haven't seen your movie. I hope that didn't offend you."
"No! That's…perfectly okay," she said, a hint of a smile touched her face. I watched as she just about swallowed her entire glass of beer.
"So besides kicking butt on the pool table, what else do you like to do?" she asked after I officially won our second game.
"Lots of things," I quickly replied. I didn't know what to tell her. I was too busy wondering why she was still here hanging out with me. Surely she had more important things to do.
"Like?" she prodded.
"Well, I like anything that involves water…swimming, boating, things like that. During the summer, some of the local businesses here in Seaport have a softball league. Sometimes we play volleyball down at the beach. But, unfortunately since I took over running the pub, I don't have as much free time as I used to." I shrugged. "I work a lot."
While I was busy talking, Lisa set up the table for game number three. I noticed that her demeanor changed slightly. She was more at ease... relaxed… calm. It was like a blanket of tension was removed from her shoulders.
I was getting set to break at the table when she interrupted me.
"Quick, without thinking, what's your favorite movie of all time?"
I stood up a little too fast. The motion along with several glasses of beer and shots of whiskey affected my equilibrium.
"Um, um," I stammered while trying to figure out what my favorite movie of all time was. "I don't know if I have one particular favorite. I have a few but it's hard to pick."
"Okay, well… what made the list?"
I sucked in a sharp breath between my teeth. "Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Galaxy Quest, anything from Pixar…" I rambled.
"I see. You like outlandish humor." She chuckled. She rattled off a bunch of funny lines from the Monty Python movie. It was obvious that she had seen the movie as many times as I did.
"Now go away or I shall taunt you a second time!" we said in unison, both of us adding the French inflection to the movie line. It made me laugh out loud.
It was my turn to shoot again, and just as I was ready to make my shot, Lisa yelled another funny line from the movie. I couldn't stop laughing.
"Stop it!" I pleaded, wiping my eyes.
I tried to make my shot again when Lisa came up right next to me and said a line from a funny scene in Galaxy Quest.
"Is there air? You don't know." She sniffed the air. "Seems okay."
I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. "Stop!" I gasped.
I reached to give her a teasing nudge with my fingers. Lisa caught me by the wrist and gently pulled me in, folding my arm with her, until my hand was pressed against her shoulder.
"Okay, ok, ok," she said, cracking up laughing again.
I could feel the warmth of her chest on my fingertips. Even though we were bent into each other, laughing hysterically, my mind started reeling just from this innocent touch. I could not allow myself to have those thoughts about her so I quickly pulled my hand away.
She continued making funny voices and quoting my favorite movies. I was laughing so hard that I lost the third game. I couldn't focus with the tears of laughter in my eyes.
"You cheat!" I scolded her.
"Who, me?"
"Yeah you, Ms. Innocent!"
I was getting ready to take my next shot when she stood behind me. I looked over my shoulder; she made me nervous standing back there.
"What?" she asked with a grin, like she wasn't up to no-good.
I looked back at the table and tried to hit the ball when she grabbed the end of my pool stick.
"You suck!" I teased her after barely hitting the cue ball.
"No, you suck. You missed the shot," she fired back at me.
I tried to crack her with the end of my pool stick but she quickly sprinted away, laughing.
Lisa leaned down to take her shot; she was just about to hit the cue ball when I faked a loud cough.
"Huh, um, you suck."
She miss-cued and didn't even hit another ball. The cue ball slowly rolled into the cushion. That's when she chased me around the table.
"That's it – you asked for it! Hey, where are you going? Like you could get away from me!"
I made two laps around the table, laughing and smiling all the way.
Eight games of pool and a pitcher of beer later, we were tied – four games a piece. We were having a really, really good time. The whole time we played, her charm never faltered. Even though we teased each other, she still complimented me when I made good shots, she encouraged me with kind words when I had a difficult shot to make, and she smiled at me incessantly.
We carried on just like two long-time friends. She made me laugh a lot. Being around her was surprisingly easy. That whole celebrity persona slipped away and she was just - Lisa - a genuinely nice person.
"All right, this one's the tie-breaker. Winner gets all the bragging rights," she said, playfully tapping me on my rear with the end of her pool stick. Her face took a serious expression as she lined up for her next shot.
"Can I ask you a question, Jennie?"
"Yeah sure, what?" I was curious about what she wanted to know.
"Well I was sort of wondering if you're married or seeing someone. I don't know if I could handle having a jealous guy attack me today, too," she admitted.
"Um, no. I've never been married. And, you don't have to worry - there's no jealous boyfriend either," I answered quickly, trying to be light-hearted and reassuring about it.
After the words flew out of my mouth I wished I could have rephrased them. I stared down at the ground with embarrassment. This is why I shouldn't drink beer – you get too honest with people, you idiot. She probably thinks you're some basket case that no man wants.
But I rationalized that she had already been accosted once today; I'm sure a bar fight would be the last thing she needed to deal with.
"You're not dating anyone?" she sounded sort of shocked.
Looking her in the eyes was like taking a shot of truth serum.
"No, no one," I answered honestly.
My mind flashed back to the last man I dated. How Mingyu ('The Asshole' as he was referred to now) asked me to marry him, how he promised to love me forever, and how I gave the ring back after I found out that he had an insatiable appetite for random sex with strangers. He was the last entry on a short list of guys who smashed my heart into pieces.
"Hmm, that's good to know." Lisa nodded while leaning over to take her next shot on the pool table. "So why is that?"
"I suppose the right one hasn't walked through my door yet," I answered casually, trying to redeem myself.
In reality, men walked in and out of my door every day, but I'd been numb for so long I didn't even care to notice them. My need for self-preservation was stronger.
Her eyes locked on mine as she purposely missed the last shot of the game.
"Guess I get all the bragging rights then," I whispered after I sunk the last ball on the table. She congratulated me with another soft high-five.
I noticed her glance at her watch as she finished her drink. I assumed she was thinking about leaving so I peeked behind the window blind slightly to see if there were still people loitering on the sidewalk.
"Is the coast clear?" she asked, even though she knew my answer.
"No. There's still a crowd out there. I see guys with cameras and a lot of women."
"This is ridiculous," she sighed and rubbed her eyes with her fingers.
"What's worse, the paparazzi or the T-shirt ripping psychos?"
"They're about even," Lisa muttered. "Most of the fans are great, but some of them go to scary extremes – like today. And the paparazzi, well, they're relentless." Her voice sounded so defeated.
"You really have no freedom or privacy, do you?" I said matter-of-factly as I glanced back at her.
"No," she whispered. "Not anymore."
She looked completely forlorn. I felt so bad for her. How someone could have everything and at the same time, have nothing at all. I had to fight back the urge to go over to her and wrap her in a big hug. I didn't know what else to say, besides, "I'm sorry."
She gave me a brief smile, but the anguish on her face was so plain to see.
"They aren't going to leave until they're sure you're not in here, are they?" I didn't want to say this out loud but it was a question that had to be asked.
"No." Her eyes shot up to lock on mine.
"Well, you can't just walk out into that! No way!" I envisioned her leaving through the front door and getting attacked again by the throng of screaming women.
"What choice do I have?" she sighed. "Even if I manage to get to the street..." Her voice trailed in defeat.
My mind was plotting – how to gain her safe passage out of here. The thought of her getting accosted by that horde out there pissed me off.
"Let me go check the back door, see if the way is clear. Stay here, okay?"
Lisa didn't reply; the gleam of hope in her eyes was confirmation enough that she was willing to accept my help.
I peeked out the back door; the alley was empty. Where the heck would she go from here though? My eyes searched the alley to be sure that there was no danger and then I had a brilliant idea.
"Can someone pick you up?" I asked.
"Yeah." She nodded assuredly.
I reached for my cell phone.
"Maggie? Hi, it's Jennie. I need to ask you a favor. Well, you see, I have a very special guest inside my pub and she is in need of a safe exit. I mean, she's very well-known and, um, there are cameras and crazy women outside my bar. Yes, she's one of the guys from the movie."
My eyes shot up to her and I gave her my best crooked sorry-smile. "Can I send her through your shop… through your back door? No, she just needs to get to the street - safely. Okay, thanks Maggie. You're the best!
"Tell your driver to park directly in front of Maggie's Bakery on 5th Street, between Elm and Mulberry Streets, and to call you when he is in position." Why did I all of a sudden feel like I was masterminding some great caper in a really bad thriller?
"You'll be safe. Maggie is a nice, older lady. She won't even know who you are. She'll leave you alone."
I looked up to see her beaming at me – like I was a lifesaver.
"The things we take for granted," she muttered.
"Hmm? What do you mean?" I wished she would explain.
"Nothing," she whispered, shaking her head as a twinge of a smile touched her lips. She pulled her phone from her pocket to call her driver.
Ten minutes later she said her goodbyes.
"Thank you, Jennie, for everything. I'm very sorry for putting you through this today."
"It's okay, Lisa. You don't need to apologize. It was nice to meet you."
"It was very nice to meet you, too. Huh, I can't remember the last time I felt this relaxed. It was nice feeling normal for once, even if it was only for a couple of hours. I had a really great time!"
"I'm glad to hear that. I had a really great time too."
"Jennie, I hope I can trust you to keep our time together just between us – our secret." Her eyes were pleading, and I knew that no one could ever be told about our encounter.
"Don't worry Lisa," I assured her. I purposely looked her directly in the eyes so she'd know I was telling the truth. "Please know that you can trust me. It's as much my secret as it is yours. I swear I will never say a word about it to anyone. Never - I promise."
She held her hand out to shake mine, so I reflexively responded. I was all prepared for a friendly handshake, but instead she twisted my hand in her and ever so gently she kissed the back of my hand.
"See you," she said softly, still holding my fingers in her hand.
I felt my heart skip another beat as it flopped in my chest.
"See you," I managed to breathe out.
I walked her to the gray steel door in the kitchen and watched her intently as she made it to the opposing door across the alleyway, completely unnoticed. Lisa paused in the open doorway and smiled at me one last time before disappearing into the bakery.