“Me?” I said, hoping I wasn’t blushing. “God, no.”
“Well, you look like you could be.” He flashed a boyish grin that ran straight through me.
The waitress returned with our two Lemon Drops. Devin said, “Seems we already have drinks, and we haven’t seen each other in a while. We’re trying to catch up. But thanks.”
I was surprised Devin blew them off, which wasn’t like her. Unlike me, she relished attention, and she wasn’t married. I almost sensed Devin was peeved that I’d been the one mistaken for the CrossFit athlete. I was in great shape, the best shape of my life. I’d need to be.
“You ladies have a nice night,” Mr. Two-Day Growth said. They turned to leave, but not before the blond glanced back and gave me another grin.
Devin laughed but it sounded stilted. “Look at you, getting all the attention.”
“I think they were more interested in you,” I said, trying to be diplomatic.
“Bullshit,” Devin said. “He liked what he saw. And you do look great, Andrea.” She sort of threw the last compliment away.
“Well, working out five days a week and being under constant stress will do that.”
“So the Rainier trip is still on?”
“Yeah,” I said, and felt a pang of guilt.
She raised her glass. “To having younger men hit on us in a bar.”
I raised my glass and met hers, then pretended to take a drink but only tasted the sugar around the rim.
She set down her drink. “So, you and Graham are staying together?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Can I speak frankly?”
“Sure,” I said. I’d never known Devin not to speak frankly.
She turned and glanced at the two men who’d tried to hit on us. “That’s pretty much what’s out there. Guys too young, looking to get laid, or divorced guys too old, looking to get laid. I know you and Graham have had your problems, but if he’s willing to give your marriage a go, you might want to consider it. At the very least go on the trip and see what comes of it. If it doesn’t go well, then you can decide what to do.”
I didn’t get much of a chance to consider her advice. The waitress returned with our appetizers and another round of Lemon Drops. “We didn’t order a second round,” Devin said.
The waitress nodded at the table shared by our two admirers. “They sent them over.”
The blond and his friend raised their beer glasses and smiled.
Devin said, “What do you think? Should we invite them over?”
“Sure, why not?” I said, sensing she wanted to flirt with them.
They turned out to be interns at an investment firm. Both were in graduate school, one at Tulane and the other at Dartmouth. Devin called them smarty-pants. The blond had definitely chosen me, and I talked with him long enough to keep his friend interested, for Devin’s sake. At some point Devin noticed that I hadn’t drunk my first drink, and she finished it. She also drank my second drink. Four Lemon Drops.
Around 11:00 p.m., the guy hitting on Devin suggested they leave and she agreed. I told his friend I was going to be heading home, and he didn’t push it. He’d noticed the wedding ring. He said it was nice talking to me and went back to the table with his other friends.
Devin told her date she’d find him and he too went back to his table. She looked at me and smiled. “You’ll be okay getting home?” I could tell from her slurred speech that she was pretty wasted.
“Of course,” I said. “You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. The buzz will make the sex better.”
“Be careful.”
“Careful? I’m getting laid. But, first I have to pee.” She grabbed her purse, which she’d hung by the strap over the back of her chair, and set it on the table along with her cell phone. “Watch my stuff?”
“Sure.”
“Right back.” She slid from her chair, stumbled when she hit the floor, but managed to remain upright. “Whoa. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that third Lemon Drop.”
Four, I thought, but didn’t say. “You sure you’re okay?” I asked again.
She winked and weaved her way through the tables and the crowd, leaving me alone. I almost pulled out the paperback I carried in my purse, but knew how lame that would look. I surveyed the crowd, my gaze passing over the tables of couples to the group of men standing at the upright table drinking their beers and laughing. Mr. Two-Day Growth watched Devin cross the bar, looking anxious or excited. I couldn’t tell. My eyes paused on Brad Pitt. In my fantasy, he looked over at me and I didn’t look away. In my fantasy, I stuck my finger in my glass, swirling the drink, then brought my finger seductively to my lips and nibbled on the tip.
Devin’s cell phone buzzed.
When I looked down, the phone on the table was neither lit up nor vibrating. It took a second before I realized the noise was coming from inside her purse, which was unzipped. Confused, I looked inside and saw a second phone, the face lit up a pale blue-green. Caller ID did not provide a name, but I didn’t need a name.