Miranda

"Excuse me?" She said with incredulity. She couldn't help but smile and laugh, especially if she had heard him correctly.

 

"I said that I'd like to not buy you a drink!" He returned her smile disarmingly, and his approach certainly had the desired effect – he'd gotten her attention, and kept it.

 

"Wow. Okay, that's the first time someone has tried to pick me up in a bar by offering to not buy me a drink!"

 

"Here's the thing," he began as he took the stool beside her and sat down, the whole while ignoring the beefy jock that has been trying to chat her up when he first approached. "Any tool can buy you a drink, and one of two things is going to happen: either you're going to think he's only trying to pick you up by buying you booze, or you're going to accept the drink with no intention of giving the guy a chance because you just want a free drink. So I figured let's skip the pretense. If I don't offer you a drink, you know I'm not trying to get you drunk, and if you still want to talk to me then we know there's something more than alcohol fueling the conversation."

 

At first she scoffed, then grinned, then laughed. There was no arguing with the logic. For a moment she sized him up with her eyes; there wasn't anything remarkable about him. He was average height, average build, and had the hint of a dimpled chin beneath the several days of beard that covered his face. He had short, dark hair with a hint of grey that subtly suggested his age to be mid-thirties. It was his eyes that ensnared her, though. They were the kind of eyes the refused to lie, wide and engaging. There was a depth to them that beckoned her.

 

"I'm Miranda," she said as she offered her hand.

 

"Cal," he replied.

 

"Short for Calvin?"

 

"Cavalry, actually. My dad was a Civil War buff."

 

"That's, um, actually that's a pretty awesome name. I like it. Cavalry."

 

Cal blushed. "Thanks."

 

"So, Cavalry, has this not buying a drink worked for you before? How many other ladies have you lured in with that line and those gorgeous eyes of yours?" Miranda squinted and wrinkled her nose as he spoke and Cal swooned. It was obvious that Miranda played on the image of her country singing namesake. She wore a short, denim skirt with a red tank top and her long highlighted blonde hair cascaded in layers across her shoulders. She was svelte, but not skinny, and the curve of her calves filled the tops of her tall, worn cowboy boots.

 

"Believe it or not, this is the first time I've ever thought to try it."

 

"Get out!" she replied with a shove to his shoulder. "I don't believe that."

 

Cal laughed. "Scouts honor! I swear!"

 

"Then why try it on me? Of all the lovely ladies in this bar?"

 

Cal tilted his head and gazed at her. Like Miranda's, Cal's attention was always first drawn to the eyes. Hers were a crystal blue, ice-like and alluring. She raised an eyebrow and gave her head a little shake when he didn't answer right away. "I, I honestly don't know. This is going to sound cheesy and clichéd, but there was just something about you."

 

Miranda blushed and lowered her chin in embarrassment. It was about that time when her friend Leanne  took notice of the exchange and wandered over to ensure that her friend was safe. "Miranda-bear! How's it going?" Leanne asked loudly. She placed an embellished, drunken hug around her friend's shoulders and whispered in Miranda's ear. "You okay? This guy creepin' on you?"

 

"I'm fine, actually. Really."

 

Leanne released Miranda and turned to Cal. "I'm Leanne. And you are?"

 

"Cal. Nice to meet you, Leanne."

 

"Well, Cal, it would be nicer if you bought me and my friend here a drink!" Given their conversation, both Cal and Miranda burst out laughing at the suggestion. "What's so funny?" Leanne asked indignantly.

 

"Nothing, never mind, Tipsy-doodle," Miranda replied when her giggle subsided.

 

"What would you like?" Cal asked politely. Leanne asked for a rum and Coke, and the bartender obliged. Leanne thanked Cal, turned, and winked at Miranda as she sipped from her straw and sauntered away.

 

"Sorry about that. You know how women are. Possessive and protective."

 

"Those are the good kind of friends to have. You're lucky."

 

"Speaking of friends, do you have any or are you here not buying girls drinks alone?"

 

"Ha! No, my buddies are over there," answered Cal. He pointed to the group of guys playing pool in the corner. "I'm here with the one in the red plaid shirt and the guy with the Johnny Cash T-Shirt. Doug and Ryan."

 

"So why aren't you over there with them?"

 

"Because you're over here."

 

Miranda blushed a second time, and again they shared an awkwardly flirtatious silence. Almost as if on cue, Chris Young's 'Who I am With You' began playing through the bar's crackly speakers above their heads.

 

"Dance with me," said Cal. The words surprised him, and the surprise was evident on his face. Cal didn't dance, and the sudden fear on his face told Miranda so. It made her want to lead him to the dance floor even more.

 

"Come on, cowboy," she insisted. Miranda slid her hand into his and ignited something within he that he'd not felt in a long time When they reached the center of the floor she turned her body and shifted her hand in his so that their flesh never parted. He took her by the waist with his left arm and pulled her close, and they swayed to the music without saying a word. Miranda, all of five-foot-two, rested her head against his chest and almost swore that his heart beat in perfect time with the rhythm of the drumbeat.

 

In the corner Doug and Ryan took notice of their friend. "Is he really dancing with Miranda Maynard?" Ryan asked.

 

"He sure is," Doug answered proudly.

 

"That son of a bitch! I've been trying to get her to go out with me since high school!" cried Ryan jealously.

 

"Well, he's a nice guy, and you're a dick, so," Doug reminded him.

 

"Hey! I, uh, shit. I can't argue with it."

 

Doug laughed, shook his head, and turned to take his shot while Ryan looked on. He tried to get his friend's attention to signal his approval of the pairing, but Cal's eyes were closed. He long since lost himself in the warmth of Miranda's embrace, only to have it cut abruptly short.

 

"Hey!" Leanne said loudly. She pulled on Miranda's arm so roughly that Miranda would have a bruise the next day. "We have to go."

 

"Why?" Miranda asked angrily, upset that Leanne had interrupted her dance. Leanne simply raised an eyebrow and nodded in the direction of the bar, where their friend Wendy was about to start sucking face with the same beefcake moron that had first tried to pick up Miranda.

 

Miranda sighed. "I'm sorry Cal, I have to go. Give me your phone," she ordered. He did so and Miranda entered her name and number into his contacts. "Call me?"

 

"I will," he said with a grin.

 

"Promise?"

 

"Cross my heart," Cal replied as he drew his fingers in a crossing motion across his sternum. There was something about the gesture that made Miranda weak in the knees.

 

Miranda waved, smiled, and bolted off to rescue Wendy from another bad decision. In doing so she left Cal standing on the dance floor, alone. Doug walked up and rested his hand on Cal's shoulder. "Did you get her number at least?"

 

"Yep," said Cal absently. Miranda turned and waved once again as she and her friends slipped through the door and out of site. "I'll be right back," Cal announced. Something overcame him and he couldn't let Miranda leave, not just yet. By the time he made it through the throng of drunken line dancers and out into the parking lot, the three girls were just getting to their car. "Miranda!" he called out. Her face lit up when she turned to see him approaching. He ran up to her and suddenly realized that he'd no idea what to say.

 

"Did you, want to tell me something?" Miranda prodded.

 

Cal grinned uncontrollably. "I just, um, I was wondering if I could take you out for a drink sometime."

 

For the third time that evening Miranda blushed like a schoolgirl who'd just been asked to the prom. "I'd like that."

 

Call nodded, smiled, nodded again and headed back towards the bar with his hands in his pockets. He was practically skipping. Leanne watched her friend and rolled her eyes. "Well go on, dumbass."

 

"What?" Miranda asked, as if she had no idea what Leanne was suggesting.

 

"Go kiss him, stupid."

 

Miranda beamed. The friendly persuasion was all she needed and she bounded through the parking lot after Cal. He was almost back to the door when she caught him. "Hey," she said, less than profoundly.

 

"Hey back," said Cal. They stood their briefly before Miranda went for it.

 

"Oh for fuck's sake, kiss me," she commanded. Before he had a chance to protest, which wouldn't have done in any event, Miranda grabbed his shirt and pulled him towards her. A fire erupted in her heart as his lips touched hers. All time and space was lost to her as the sensation of his kiss, his tongue, and the faint hint of his cologne enveloped her. In Cal's case, he hadn't felt that kind of connection with a woman in far too long. His heart wouldn't let him, but like he'd told Miranda earlier, there was just something about her that weakened his defenses.  

 

"Miranda!" The forceful male voice violently disrupted their bliss. "What the hell is this?" the man demanded to know.

 

"Goddamn it, Randy! We talked about this!" she yelled.

 

Cal stood confused. "Um, what's going on?"

 

Miranda looked down in shame, and Randy erupted in laughter. "I take it you didn't tell him?" he asked, directing his query towards Miranda.

 

"Tell me what, Miranda?" Cal inquired.

 

Miranda looked up to Cal with tears in her eyes, and then to Randy with rage-filled disdain. "I fucking hate you!" She screamed.

 

Randy's laugh bellowed.  "She's married, bro! That's my wife!"

 

Cal looked to Miranda in horror. "Is that true?" He asked, fearing he'd just lost love as quickly as he thought he'd found it.

 

"Cal, it's not what it seems," she said pleadingly. Cal shook his head in disgust, turned his back to her, and headed back inside. "Cal, wait!" He ignored her and kept walking. When the door closed behind him, she turned and pummeled her fists into Randy's chest. "You bastard! Why do you keep doing this to me?" Tears streamed down her face.

 

"Because you're my wife," answered Randy sinisterly.

 

"I am not your fucking wife! I left, remember? I filed for divorce because you're an abusive, alcoholic asshole!"

 

Randy shoved her away from him forcefully. "And I told you this ain't over!"

 

"It was over when you broke my jaw and I had you arrested! I've got a restraining order! You're not even supposed to be here." Miranda turned from him, pulled her phone from her purse and started to dial 911 when Randy smacked the phone from her hand.

 

"We got unfinished business, you and me," he said lecherously as he grabbed her shoulders and held her against the nearest car.

 

"Randy, don't," she pleased.

 

"Oh, I think I will," he declared as he pressed himself up against her and reached for the hem of her skirt."

 

"No, you won't."

 

Randy turned at the sound of the voice, right into Cal oncoming fist. The blow shattered Randy's nose, and the larger, more imposing man crumpled to his knees with blood streaming from between the fingers he held up to his broken face. "I'm gonna kill you, boy," he hissed. Randy spit away the blood that had trickled to his lips, rose, and charged at Cal. He'd never reach the younger man, as the two shots Miranda fired into his chest felled him instantly. Cal stood there, dumbfounded, while the small .38 still smoked in Miranda's hands.

 

"Uh," was the only sound Cal could make.

 

Miranda's breath began to slow and she walked over to Randy's body. "It's over now, you son of a bitch." She laid the pistol on the ground next to the corpse and waited for the police. "I'm sorry Cal." She wept now. "I completely understand if you just walk away from me forever."

 

Cal grinned. He never wanted her more.

 

© 2015 J.J. Goodman. All rights reserved.