Page 95 of One Bad Idea
As for my new acquaintance, he was somewhere in the middle – a decade or so older than myself, but a long way from retirement.
Regardless, I wasn't here to get drunk. I was here for a change of scenery. As it was, I'd been nursing my first drink for so long that the ice cubes had gone watery.
Now, the guy was eyeing me with mock concern. "Istillsay you're not twenty-one."
It wasn't that far-fetched. I did look a little on the young side, mostly because I was shorter than average. Even so, the guy was obviously joking, not that I minded.
Until now, I'd hardly laughed all day. "Do I need to remind you," I said, "they checked my I.D. at the door?"
"Yeah, but it could be a fake." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper "People do that, you know."
Ididknow. In fact, with a little help from an older friend, I'd actually gotten into quite a few nightclubs in the two yearsbeforereaching the legal drinking age.
At the memory, I almost snickered. "Ihaveheard of such a thing."
"Uh-huh." The guy held out his hand, palm-up. "C'mon, let's see it."
"See what?" I asked.
"Your I.D." Now, he looked ready to snicker, too. "Just between us, I'm an expert."
"In what? Fake I.D.s?"
I'd been at the nightclub for almost an hour, and I was finally starting to relax, mostly because the guy's conversation – as ridiculous as it was – was keeping my mind off everything that had driven me here in the first place.
We were standing just a few feet away from the main bar, within sight of the crowded dance floor. The music was mostly techno – the generic kind that made it hard to differentiate one song from another.
I'd been hoping to dance, but not tothis– which made me doubly glad for the guy's conversation while I passed the time.
With another laugh, he nudged his hand closer. "C'mon, show me, and I'll tell you a secret."
I eyed him with mock suspicion. "What kind of secret?"
"If you wanna know, fork it over."
I smiled. "Not without a hint."
"Alright." He made a show of looking around. "Guess who I spotted in the men's room."
"Who?"
"A famous athlete."
"How famous?" I asked.
"Gold medal famous."
"You mean the Olympics?" Now, I was intrigued in spite of myself. "Really? Which sport?"
He gave me a playful wink. "Sorry, can't say if you're under-age."
Already, I was laughing again. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Sorry, rules are rules."
I'd never been a huge sports fan, but Iwascurious what he'd say next. In the spirit of things, I reached into the pocket of my sundress and pulled out my license. But I didn't hand it over. Rather, I held it up, flashing it badge-style, so he could take a quick look. "See?"
He looked at the license and then at my face. "Are yousurethis is you?"
