Of course…bitter truth be told…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 damn cute. Picture Bradley Cooper with a guitar and a killer smile…
I had this stupid crush on him…it was so pathetic at my age… even though it did appear that he maybe had a girlfriend. I’ll give that to Abby.
There was this beautiful flight attendant from Delta…and yes…she often came into the club in her uniform…who was always sitting at one of the front tables with a couple of her girl friends…also decked out in their uniforms.
Her name tag…pinned right on the shoulder of her oh so cute uniform…read “Tiff”. Yeah…I’m sure that name was on her birth certificate…give me a break.
During his breaks, Bobby almost always went over and sat down with her and her friends.
But I thought that last night he was actually heading in my direction…until she raised her arm and signaled for him to bring her another drink and…so he did.
Some nerve. He wasn’t a waiter, for Pete’s sake. But before he had headed towards the bar he had turned towards me and had given me a super, dazzling smile…and a wink.
“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 raised her head.
“Wow. That was an amazing stretch…even for you.” Stella said.
I laid back against my propped up pillows and closed my eyes, trying ever so hard to remember 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 vivid memory flashed like a bolt of lightning through 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 had thought was a brilliant answer.
“Driving? Not tonight, babe. I’m flying home tonight….simply flying…”
And then…that was it…end of lightning bolt. End of memory.