Page 44 of Love in Tandem
Charlotte couldn’t tell if his slur came from alcohol or a past stroke. Either way, she offered him a tight smile and hoped he’d go away. She was not in the mood to make friends.
He took two unsteady steps toward her. “That’s better,” he said.
Was it? She darted a glance out the front window, where Zach squatted next to their bike, rummaging through their bags. What was he doing? Hurry up, Zach.
“When you’re smiling . . .” Oh, wonderful. Mr. Intoxicated had started to sing.
“Oh, I’m smiling. Yes. Thank you.” Charlotte waved a dismissive hand, then gave a few short claps of applause, anything to make him stop.
“When you’re smiling . . .” He wasn’t stopping.
She searched for Zach. Still outside. And now apparently talking to some dude on a motorcycle. Perfect.
“The whole world . . .” The man had reached her table, holding his mug like a microphone, which he now placed in front of her mouth. “Go ahead. You know it.”
“I don’t. Not a single word.” Charlotte gently pushed the mug away. He forced it right back. “No, really.”
“Come on, don’t worry, be happy.” He made jazz hands and leaned side to side, his beer sloshing over the rim.
“Ope, you’re dripping there. I’m actually pretty tired. We’ve ridden a long way.” She had to speak up to be heard over his whistling. “You know what? I think I may need to use the ladies’ room.” She stood from her chair, grimacing at the muscle aches.
Before the man could say anything, she forced her lips up. “Still smiling. Feeling great. Excuse me.” She hobbled past him to the door marked Gals and shoved the door shut behind her, locking it and leaning against it.
Why did all her interactions with strangers lately lead to songs about smiling?
Too dehydrated to actually need the bathroom, she waited a couple of minutes, washed her hands, tried not to look at her sweaty reflection in the mirror, and prayed Zach was back at the table by now, ready to deflect further inebriated crooners.
After waiting another minute, Charlotte returned to the table, relieved to see both Zach and their sodas waiting for her. Her singing friend must have forgotten about her. He was chatting it up with the bartender.
She gulped down several long pulls of her Sprite. “Oh wow,” she said, wiping her chin. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so divine.”
“Then you haven’t tried this orange soda.”
“Orange soda. Blech. Speaking of blech, have you figured out what we’re going to do about sleeping arrangements tonight?”
“It’s been five minutes. You expected me to come up with sleeping arrangements in five minutes?” He tilted his glass toward her. “Well, I did. Because I’m amazing. And since you know that, it makes perfect sense you expected me to come up with those arrangements in five minutes.”
“Oh my goodness, I am not in the right frame of mind to deal with you right now.”
He chugged his soda and set down his glass with a loud clink. “Do you want to sleep on snake-infested picnic benches or deal with me right now?”
“I’m all ears.”
He motioned to the window. “I was talking to one of the locals outside. He, of course, wanted to know what we were up to. I told him and mentioned we needed a place to toss down our tent for the night. He told me I should ask Willie.”
“Who’s Willie?”
“You don’t know Willie? Everybody knows Willie.”
Charlotte dropped her chin on her fist, so unamused.
Zach cracked a smile and pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “Willie owns the bar. I already talked to him, and he said we could use the field out back to put up our tent. He said he doesn’t mind if we come in and use the bathroom later if we need to. Bar doesn’t close until two in the morning.”
The skinny man in suspenders, still at the bar, lifted his mug in a salute. Charlotte half-heartedly lifted her pop in return. “That’s Willie?”
“Yup. Nice guy. Isn’t this great?”
Charlotte released a bone-weary sigh. Sleeping outside some bar in Hicksville, Tennessee, with Willie the crooner and over four hundred miles between her and the finish line. “Sure. Can’t stop smiling.”
