Page 19 of The Girl with No Name

“Can’t. Tomorrow is an in-office day, and my boss made a big deal out of it. I really wish I could, man. Sorry.”

He grins harder. “Is there anything I can, you know, do?” He wiggles his eyebrows and licks his lips. “A sexual favor, maybe?”

Right as he’s saying that—of course—Wendy presses the door open and walks outside.

“Uh, what are y’all talking about?”

“My wife,” Dunn says, using a Russian accent. “I offer my wife to you. We must go to this festival. We must go.”

“I wish I could go,” Wendy says, sitting down. “You want to feel her? She’s kicking.”

I put my hand on her belly, tentatively. I can feel a little movement. “Wild.”

“The miracle of life,” Dunn says. “When are you and Sam gonna start?”

I laugh. “With babies, or the wedding?”

“Both. You gotta get on that, man. I’ve already got a head start. I’m going to make it to five. The Dunn dynasty will be epic.”

Wendy laughs. “Six, hon.”

“See? This is why I fucking love this woman. So…how is Sam anyway?”

“She gets back here from grad school in two months. And…” I shouldn’t be revealing it. But I do. “I bought a ring.”

Wendy’s mouth drops open.

“Don’t say a thing to anyone. I haven’t told a soul yet.”

“That’s great, man,” Charlie says. “So you’re gonna be tied down for life. All the more reason to go to this festival.”

“When are you getting sent to…”

“Ukraine,” he says, filling in the word I didn’t want to say. Wendy looks down. “Twelve weeks after the due date.”

“When’s the due date?”

“In about four weeks,” he says. There’s a slight pause, but not too long, before Charlie adds, “Grabbing more beers from inside. I’ll be back. You want one, Wen?”

She shakes her head. “The day this pregnancy is over, I’m drinking a full bottle of wine.”

Charlie laughs. “She’s a real alcoholic, this one.”

After a minute he comes back out with cracked open Miller Lites and his dad’s guitar.

“Play us a song, minstrel.” He hands me the guitar.

“Eh, I don’t know…”

“Come on, man. I know you’ve been working on something. You always are. Give me one of the originals—like the old days when we would drink out here and you’d play.”

I think for a moment. “All right, fine. Here’s one I wrote. It’s called ‘Marry Bacardi’.”

It’s a soft, acoustic song, a special song. I’m saving it to surprise Sam. I’ll play it for her when she moves back to Chicago.

When she wears that dress

Man you know the one

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