| Her Last Night Out |
| Carla had never gone to a bar alone before. Never even walked inside alone to meet friends, let alone gone drinking by herself for the night. But for some reason, tonight would be the first. She had been home all week, on vacation from work, with nothing to do. She didn’t have many friends, just one or two, and she hadn’t bothered making any plans with them all week. Her boyfriend, Kent, and her had broken up a couple weeks ago. Originally the two of them were going to plan some daytrips for her vacation. And when they broke up, it left Carla with nothing to do. So here is was, Friday night. She had to be back at work on Monday, and she had not done anything for herself at all this week. She decided she would put on a nice, casual outfit, and go out by herself. She was doing it more to prove to herself that she actually could, rather than to have any kind of fun. Clad in a pair of slim-fitting white jeans and a light blue denim shirt, she got into her car and headed for the downtown area of Lawrenceville, the town where she had lived for the past six years. There was a strip of hip bars downtown that she had never been to. Driving by them, she parked her car in the municipal lot and began walking back up the street to pick which bar she should try first. The second one she came to was simply called “S” and it looked like it was pretty active. There were a lot of people in their mid twenties in the bar, so she decided to give this one a try. Walking in and looking around, she picked her seat at the bar. The bartender nodded in her direction, a silent means of asking what she would like to drink. “Rum and diet Coke, please,” she said. In less than a minute, her drink was in front of her. She paid and tipped the bartender and began sipping her drink through the tiny straw in the glass. She never understood the purpose of these very tiny straws – were they actually meant to drink through, or just for the sole purpose of mixing the drink? At any rate, she sipped her drink through the straw with the idea that if any cute men were to look at her, she could do provocative things with the straw. She giggled at the thought. Yup, tonight she was not going to let herself go home alone. Someone was standing by the jukebox, flipping through the various songs. He was wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt, neatly tucked in, with a brown rope belt. Putting his coins in the machine, the music came alive with Bryan Adams’ “Summer of ‘69”. As he walked away from the jukebox, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, taking out a Marlboro and putting it in his mouth. Fishing in another pocket, he pulled out a lighter and lit his cigarette. He walked back to his table amidst a cloud of smoke, and joined up with his friends, two other guys and a girl. The girl was wearing tight blue jeans and a light pink cut off tank top. She had brown hair and held a cigarette in her left hand. The two guys were both very similar-looking to the one at the jukebox, each in their blue jeans with neatly tucked-in shirts. One of the guys had a flannel shirt over his t-shirt. The two guys appeared to be somewhat on the preppy side, while the girl was like a flashback to the 80’s. All of a sudden, one of the guys looked over at them. Oh shit, she thought, when she realized they had caught her staring. She turned her chair around and faced back to the bar. She sipped the last of her drink and the bartender came over to her. “’Nuther one?” he asked. Before Carla could answer, a voice came from behind her. “Put it on my tab.” Carla turned around to face the man from the jukebox, who, up-close, looked like a young James Dean. He glanced back over his shoulder to the table he had come from, to see his friends watching him. Carla’s heart began to race. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I was just kind of spacing out and it just happened to be in your direction.” She giggled shyly. “My name’s Ricky,” he said. “And I’m glad you were looking at me. Gave me an excuse to come over and talk to you.” Carla began to blush. Her drink arrived, and she took a sip. “Thanks for the drink,” she said. “My name’s Carla.” Ricky put out his hand and Carla extended hers as well. Ricky brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. She was in awe of his soft skin. She had never felt such soft skin before, especially on a man. They made small talk for the next fifteen minutes or so. He asked where she lived, where she grew up, what her job was. Then, he glanced over his shoulder to the table where his friends were. Except now they were gone. “Shit,” he said. “My friends left without me. They were my only way home. I guess I will have to call a cab.” “Nope,” Carla said, “they only run until one. It’s one-fifteen.” “Damn,” Ricky said, “Well,” Carla said, “how far away do you live?” “About 10 minutes, over on Seaside Avenue. You know where that is?” “Yeah I know exactly where that is. I can drop you off if you’d like.” “Really, now?” Ricky asked, surprised. “That’d be great!” “No problem.” Carla didn’t mind going out of her way, but she was a little sorry she had offered. After all, she barely knew this guy. Plus, she hated driving with other people in the car – it made her so nervous. She was almost done with her drink, and Ricky had just finished his. She took the last few sips of her rum and Coke and put the glass down. “You ready to go now?” she asked. “Sounds good to me,” Ricky said as he stood up off the barstool. He and Carla exited the bar and began the walk to Carla’s car, which was parked a half a block down the road. |