Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Mallory had to pass by the table I had moved to while she was singing, which was one of the reasons I’d chosen it. As she neared me, I stepped in her path, and she slowed down and stopped just a foot or so away from me, beaming with pride, and the familiar blush crossing her cheeks.
“Hello, Mallory,” I said.
“Hi, Graham,” she said, the smile on her lips belying that she was at least as happy to see me as I was her. Her eyes twinkled in the bar lighting, and I felt my chest tighten. She still wore the same perfume.
“You were incredible,” I said. “Even better than I remember.”
“Better than you remember?” she asked. “We only hung out once, as I recall. I don’t think you ever heard me sing.”
“Oh yes I did,” I said. “You were the lead in the musical that spring after the one you were painting for.”
“You saw that?” she asked.
“I did. I saw both of them. And the one-act,” I said. “Camino Real was as amazing as you said it was, by the way.”
“You remember the play?” she asked. “Wow.”
I shrugged. “I ended up reading some other Tennessee Williams stuff in college,” I said. “I even took an acting class.”
“How did that go?” she asked, stifling a little laughter. I joined her and shook my head.
“Not well,” I said. “Not my thing.”
“So you came to some of the shows?”
“I did,” I admitted.
“I had no idea,” she said. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”
My smile faltered. I wanted to come up with some excuse, something that would make it okay that I didn’t try to track her down and talk to her like I saw so many others do after plays. But I had nothing.
“I really don’t know,” I said.
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed them,” she said. “My girls are going to kill me if I don’t get back to the table, though.”
I looked over my shoulder and saw who she was talking about. They looked familiar, but again, not in a way that I thought I would have any reason to know their names.
“Right,” I said. “Well, happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” she said, walking past me. “Are you going to sing?”
“Depends on how many drinks I get in me,” I laughed. “I don’t think they have enough liquor in the building, though.”
“Shame,” she said. “I would have liked to have seen that.”
With that, she turned her back and continued on to her table. As she sat down, I noticed her briefly look my way, almost as if to see if I was still looking at her, then she launched into a giggling conversation with her two friends.
I made my way back to my own group, and before saying a word to anyone else, went to the bar and signaled to the bartender.
“Two shots,” I said. “Doubles.”
A little time passed as the boys and I drank and enjoyed the atmosphere of the quickly filling bar. Apparently, word had spread to the greater Murdock area, and people who generally didn’t drop by were coming in. I specifically saw a teetotaling preacher I remembered from my youth making an appearance.
Yet, the entire time, the only thing I really paid any attention to was Mallory. Time did her well. Her confidence shined. She was so pretty, so interesting, so drop dead sexy, that it was all I could do to pretend not to be obsessed with her. I thought I was playing it pretty cool when Marcus, who had been going on and on about his college baseball career and whether he was going to get drafted in the next summer draft, noticed I wasn’t paying attention.
“Hey, did you hear me?” he asked.
“What?” I asked, tearing my eyes away from Mallory by force. She was standing up with her friends, and I wanted to see where they were going. If they were heading out, I was going to go out there too and see if I couldn’t find a way to get a little more time with her.
“I said I got two calls, both from Chicago. But I don’t know, man. I don’t like deep dish pizza, you know?” he asked, taking a big swig.
“Are you telling me,” I said, the absurdity of his comment sinking in, “that you are willing to base the future of your career on whether you like the type of pizza they have?”
“You aren’t?” he asked. “By the way, what kind of pizza do they serve in Montreal?”
I was dumbfounded for an answer and was saved by the face that appeared over his shoulder.
“You boys mind if we join you?” the girl asked. She was standing beside Mallory, who was looking at me with widened eyes.
“Sure,” I said. “I’m buying. What can I get you ladies?”
“Ooh, how gentlemanly,” the girl said, turning back to Mallory for a moment. “I’m Tessa. This is my friends Kat and M—”