Page 19 of From Fling to Ring

“You guys can never tell when I’m bluffing. But right here,” I say, laying my cards out for them to see, “is one of the shittiest hands in poker I’ve ever seen. And yet, I win.”

Groaning loudly, each guy throws a few bills my way, grumbling and rolling their eyes like I cheated them or something.

“Get used to losing, guys,” I say, sliding my winnings into my wallet. “Because you’re about to lose a big one three months from now.”

8

TYLER

“I brought you flowers.”

Yeah, I know flowers are corny as shit and borderline weird when you don’t know a woman very well, but hey, these are special circumstances.

Lucy, who by the way is stunning in a bright red dress, looks at me with suspicion. Jesus, some dude must have done her wrong. She hesitates just long enough for me to feel free to give her shit.

“Hey. If you don’t like them or are allergic or something, I’ll give them to the elderly lady walking her Shih Tzu down the street.” I point toward the hallway behind me, taking a step in its direction.

Her eyes open wide. Once again I have rendered this woman speechless.

“Just say the word.” I take another step back from her front door and make like I’m heading to leave.

She clucks her tongue. “Wait, what? Of course I like them.” She opens the door for me to enter her apartment, and as I pass through, I hand the flowers off to her.

I take in her living quarters. It wasn’t that long ago that I was living in a similar kind of space, a small, garage-sale furnished apartment. These days, I’m in a nice big condo near the ball park, but I’ll never forget my humble beginnings. In fact, I kind of miss my old place. It was the first time I’d ever lived alone and it felt good. Really good, to know I was doing shit on my own.

“Great place. It’s very tidy.”

“Yeah, I like to clean.”

Nothing wrong with that.

“I like it,” I say, wandering around, checking out her art posters and bookshelves. “Whoa, look at this baby.”

I run my fingers over a typewriter, the old kind you see in movies. “I bet when they made these, they never figured they’d end up being a decoration in someone’s home.”

She joins me, running a finger over the raised black keys. “My parents got me this when I graduated from college. I just love it. I wish it still worked. It would be fun to try it out.”

I crouch down to get a better look at its inner workings. “I suppose you could have it serviced. But do typewriter repairmen even exist anymore?”

She laughs, her blonde hair bouncing around her face, and a warm sensation runs through me. It’s the first time I’ve heard her do that, and I like it.

She should laugh more. I plan to make sure that happens.

9

TYLER

“Tyler,” a voice whispers in my ear.

Who the hell is that? And why am I so stiff?

My neck cracks out loud, and while I peel my eyes open, it quickly becomes clear I have fucked up. Majorly.

“Holy shit,” I mumble, and look around the darkened and mostly empty San Francisco Symphony Hall.

I turn to my right, in the direction of the soft voice, and see Lucy. Damn, she’s pretty. And she smells good too. Not that I haven’t had those thoughts before, it’s just the first thing to run through my mind after my apparent nap.

“I’m so sorry. Oh my God, Lucy, I’m so sorry,” I say, bolting upright in my seat and straightening my crumpled jacket.

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