But…I was also foolishly hoping that maybe tonight would be the night that Bobby would come over during the band’s break and talk to me. He was so cute. Think Keanu Reeves with a guitar and a killer smile.
I had such a stupid crush on him even though it appeared that he maybe had a girlfriend.
There was this gorgeous flight attendant from Delta (and yes, she came to the club in her uniform) who was without a doubt a ten. Her name tag said, “Tiff”. And yes, she kept her name tag on too…right on the shoulder of that oh so cute uniform.
During his break Bobby always went over and sat down with Tiff and her friends. But I thought that last night he was heading in my direction until she crooked her little finger and signaled for him to bring her another drink…and so he did.
Some nerve, huh? He wasn’t a waiter, for Pete’s sake. But before he headed towards the bar he turned and had given me a super dazzling smile.
“Maybe he was trying to tell me something…like ‘I was going to come over to you but I have to do this to be polite…'” I pondered out loud. Stella looked up at me.
“Wow. That was an amazing stretch…even for you. Hey, I have a better idea. Just stay home. With me.” Stella said.
I got on the bed and laid back against my pillows and closed my eyes, trying to bring up into my foggy, headachy brain last night’s smile from Bobby. He had been smiling at me, hadn’t he?
I. Am. Never drinking that much again. Ever.
Suddenly a memory flashed like a bolt of lightning in my brain.
A voice. A man’s voice.
“You’re not driving tonight are you Charlie?”
And me, drunkenly oblivious to anyone but my own pitiful self, had waved a hand in the direction of the concerned voice and dismissed the question with what I thought was a brilliant answer.
“Driving? Not tonight, babe. I’m flying home tonight. Simply flying.”
And then that’s it. No more lightning bolts.