The Urban Dictionary defines a "soft launch" as "a photo preview of a talking stage before it becomes an official relationship on social media, i.e., taking photos of their dinner plate and their hands, half their face or their shoes as to allude there's someone special in your life."

all mistakes are my own.

Chapter four.

Wait.

I'm not prepared for drinking. This was a nice, get-to-know-you place before I'd casually suggest dinner. And before we'd end up testing out Rose's theory: older guys do it better.

Now I'm here, sitting in a dark bar, facing the godfather of this place, sipping some delicious concoction out of a ridiculously small, red straw. What about the turtles, and the ocean life? Don't rules apply to biker bars, after all?

I'm getting off-topic and dangerously tipsy since I haven't even had dinner. Plus, I feel ridiculous in this outfit. Who wears a blazer to a date?

"Sweetheart, what sack of bones left you here all by yourself lonesome?" The voice is gravely and deep. As if the person it belongs to smokes a pack a day.

"Marc, let her be." The Mountain Man behind the bar shakes his head.

"I can talk to whoever I want, thank you very much," I sneer.

"Marcus is the name, and that over there is the lovely Jane. The old ball-and-chain who I never stood up in thirty fucking years."

This Marcus makes me snicker. Even Ed cracks a smile, one crispy white towel slung over his shoulder. He should smile more often. It makes him look like…not a grumpy bar owner.

"Who says I got stood up, Marcus?" I ask him, well aware of the three pairs of eyes on me. Marcus', Jane's and Ed's. I feel like a carnaval attraction. The Weirdly Dressed Woman. I should add that when I do decide on writing a story about this pathetic attempt at a date.

Jane approaches, the hem of her bell-bottom jeans sliding over the floorboards. She's tiny, even though she's wearing platforms, her hair such an icy blonde it looks almost gray. I'd say she's over fifty, but very well groomed, her locks cut into a seventies shag that resembles a cool mullet. She looks awesome.

"Shut your trap, Marc. As if the poor girl hasn't had the worst night already." She inspects a maroon manicure before scooting on the bar stool next to mine, elbows leaning onto the oak, enchanting blue eyes meeting my own. It feels like she's inspecting me in the most maternal way.

"That cut doesn't do that little figure any favors." I feel myself sigh deeply.

"Hey, I thought it wasn't flattering," I start. "How can you tell my figure is little, then?"

She lets out a laugh. It's throaty and full of life, eyes sparkling.

"You're quite the spitfire, no wonder men blow you off." She gazes at Marcus, then nods at me. "There are so easily intimidated, aren't they?"

"I don't know if he was intimidated, Jane…he never showed. Hasn't even seen me."

"You've never met this guy before?" She wonders. The bartender mumbles something under his breath, his gaze trained on the glasses of beer he's filling up.

"No, it was supposed to be our first date, meeting…whatever you wanna call it."

Jane looks confused, brows furrowed. I love the little lines on her face. It's like a map of the life she's had already.

"Then where did you meet this man?" She shakes his head, Marcus nursing a beer from tap, happy just listening in.

"On an app, a few days ago."

Ed laughs. I glare. Jane intervenes.

"You willingly drove up to a bar you've never set foot in, because of a virtual stranger asked you to?"

It sounds silly hearing her speak those words.

"Girl, that's the reddest flag I've ever seen in my whole life."

"I'm guessing you don't have kids?" I ask her. Jane shakes her head. Ed snickers again. I just ignore him now.

"How the hell am I supposed to meet guys, if not for the magical world of online dating?" I sip my drink again, sad to see I'm low on it already, my heels slipping off slightly when my feet sway back and forth.

"Gee, I don't know… at school, work, at the bar.. anywhere?" Jane chuckles.

"It doesn't work that way anymore, Janey…" I gift the woman I don't even know a cute nickname. "Men are impossible. People don't go out anymore, and if they do, they're drunk as a skunk and date-rape drugging your drinks."

There's a beat of silence. Ed breaks it by scoffing.

"What." I wave swirl my glass, ice cubes clinging together. "Another," I announce.

He sets a Coke bottle in front of me.

"That's not what I ordered." I shake my head.

"No, but that's what you're getting." He doesn't shout but it feels like he did. Like a Major would yell at new cadets. "Who the fuck were you meeting anyway?" He looks genuinely curious. His forest eyes bore into mine, making me wonder if it is indeed hot in here.

I shrug.

"Jake Black."

Jane gasps, and Marcus and Ed laugh like I've told them the best joke of the millennium.