Page 22 of Tucker
Heturns toward me with a charming little smile. “I hope you like the band. I’venever heard them, but I’ve heard good things.”
“Noworries. My taste is pretty eclectic.”
Wechat on the drive there, getting to know one another a little better. Theparking lot is packed when we arrive, but again, he has a smart car, so he hasno problem squeezing it between two trucks.
Thebouncer at the door cards both of us, and Ely grabs my hand as we make our waythrough the crowd. I scold myself when the first thought through my head isthat Tucker’s hand is rougher, stronger, more manly than the soft skin againstmy palm now. The guy must use more moisturizer than I do.
Wefind a table in the back where the music isn’t so loud and we can hear oneanother. A harried waitress comes to take our order and Ely asks, “What wouldyou like to drink?”
“Vodkaand Cranberry.”
“Andbring me a beer,” Ely adds.
Thewaitress delivers our drinks, and we spend a few minutes talking and drinking.I don’t drink very often and I can already feel the alcohol taking hold alittle. My body starts wanting to move with the music.
Theband is really good.
“Sorryabout the music. My friend must be hard of hearing. He said they sounded like acrossover between The Decemberists and Mumford and Sons. Not this poppy crap.”
Okaythen.
“Doyou want to dance?”
Hescoffs. “To this? No thanks.”
Anawkward silence erupts until he says, “I don’t know what happened to ourwaitress.”
“It’sbusy. I’m sure she’s overwhelmed.”
“I’mgoing to order at the bar. Another Vodka and cranberry?”
“Please,”I reply. I’m probably going to need two more to get through this date. Heseemed so different before. Now he’s coming off as a snooty douche. My feet areitching to get out on the dance floor and if he won’t dance with me after thisnext drink, I’m going to hit the floor alone.
Whilehe’s waiting at the bar, I take the opportunity to use the ladies room. Theline isn’t as long as I feared, but as soon as I step out, I hear a commotion.I hope there isn’t a fight. Some asshole always has to ruin a good time.
Ohshit. Why does the bouncer have Ely in a headlock?
Tryingnot to be noticed, I approach the bar until I can hear the argument going on.
“Letme go! I’m not leaving! Styrofoam! You use Styrofoam containers for food! Doyou have any idea how long they take to decompose? Of course you do! Everyonehas known that for years! And you still use it? I’m staying right here untilyour company agrees to stop killing the earth!”
Duringthe scuffle with security, Ely manages to produce a set of handcuffs and cuffshimself to the bar. “Protest! I’m mounting a protest!” he shouts.
“Probablythe only thing he’s ever mounted,” a man behind me calls out, and everyonelaughs.
Yeah,I’m not with this guy. At least the place is too crowded for him to see me as Islink back near the bathrooms and consider my options. I need a ride. Judgingby the two officers that just walked in, Ely is going to jail…again.
Worstdate ever.
Asmuch as I hate to do it, Tucker is the only one who wouldn’t have to drive farto get me. In this little town, there are no taxis that will run out into thecounty.
Tuckeranswers on the first ring, like he had the damned phone in his hand. “Leah?”
“Yeah,I’m really sorry to ask you, but, do you think you could pick me up?”
“Didthat little fucker do something?” he demands.
“No,he didn’t do anything to me. I’m fine. It just…the date just didn’t work outand I need a ride. I’m at The Cave on Ninth Street.”
