chiseled

“The Velvet Fog. Fuck. That’s such a great nickname,” I said to the lady next to me.

“Excuse me?” she said in startled reply.

Hell, that’s the first time that one’s worked for me I think to myself. I look at this lady who has decided that I’m worthy of at least one question. She’s probably 30 years old. Long black hair, just past her shoulders. Dark brown eyes.

“The Velvet Fog. I think that’s a fucking great nickname.”

“Do you have to cuss when you say it?”

“The Velvet Fog. I think it’s a freaking great nickname,” I say with a tip of my glass and a quick gulp. I’m actually quite nervous now. She hasn’t run away or just simply looked away. She’s giving me the Robert DeNiro stare now, so she must have some interest in me.

“You know, Mel Torme supposedly hated that nickname,” a voice from the other side of the lady spoke up.

Shit. This guy’s going to swoop in and take her away from me like a hawk with a batch of stray kittens in a New Mexico field at noon. Both of us look at this guy at the same time. He’s got a chiseled chin. The kind that says “I’m a homosexual.” Well, at least that’s what I usually think. She probably thinks he’s dreamy, in a Robert Redford kind of way. I just see Peter Griffin.

“In fact, I think it’s kind of a simple nickname,” he continued, now that he had her attention, and much to my chagrin, mine as well.

“I like it,” she said, quickly turning her back on chisel chin and back to me. Her gaze once again drilled right into my brain. I think she was scanning me like Michael Ironside. I checked my nose in the mirror for a bleed. No such thing.

“Why did you just spit that out like that,” she asked me. “I mean, you were just staring at your beer and then you said it. I have to know.”

I was flabbergasted. She had to be looking at me when I said it to know this. In fact, she must have been looking at me for a while.

“It just popped into my head. I’ve only had a couple of nicknames in my life. Pony Boy, because I had a ponytail, and lesbo, because my e-mail address closely resembled that.”

“Pony Boy? Ha! You look nothing like C. Thomas Howell!”

“Thank you,” I said.

We shared a smile. And then silence while we took in the surroundings. Chisel chin was making his move on a chunky Asian by the jukebox now. He was laying it on think from the way he was moving his hands this way and that. All the while, his newest target yawned.

“Watch this,” she said to me as she stood up.

I quickly grabbed a hold of her wrist. “Wait a second…”

She looked down at me holding her arm. Then gave me a scornful look. I recoiled. She laughed.

“Don’t worry, I’m not running away or anything.”

“But I don’t know your name.”

“Nor do I know yours,” she said as she ambled over to the jukebox where chisel chin was now staring dully into his beer after yet another love connection misfire.

I watched her walk over to the jukebox. She had quite the amazing ass. It moved when she walked, but it didn’t move too much or too little. I bet it looks very good outside those jeans.

She cocked her head back and then to the left, giving me a wink in the process. I watched on. I was quite in rapt with this. I had no idea what would come next.

They talked for a couple of minutes. He didn’t seem to interested at first, then she touched his arm. I got jealous. “Am I getting played,” I started to wonder. But before I could delve too deeply into my own psychosis, the two of them were coming back to the bar. Laughing quite profusely.

“Damn, guy,” chisel chin said. “Your wife here just told me you were in Iraq for the last two years and tonight is the first night you’re together. I wanted to apologize for being such an ass and hitting on your woman.”

I was dumbfounded. In a good way. I just nodded and looked at my new “wife.”

“Yeah, we were here hoping to get a quick drink before going to the W across town and then just enjoy each other,” she said.

“Shit, the W? I’m the manager of the place. You have reservations?”

“No.” I said quickly. “We figured we would just roll up.”

“Shit, that’s bad news, my man. The Celtics are in town tonight and the place if almost booked solid.”

We both looked at each other when he said “almost.”

“Damn,” she said.

“However,” chisel chin interjected. “I can get you guys a room. You don’t mind the penthouse suite do you? We will just have to kick out Kevin Garnett’s posse. But they won’t be trying to check in until 5 or so.”

“Wow. That’s awful nice of ya,” I said, waiting just enough of a pause before saying… “But…”

“No buts, my man,” he said, slapping me on the back. “Consider it a gift from me, Raeford P. Curlins.”

“Why thank you Raeford!” she said with a wink to me and a high five to him.

Twenty minutes later, we were at the W. Fully stocked bar, included.

“You going to tell me your name now?” I asked.

“Mairead,” she said.

“Damn, you even have a cool name,” was my only response.

She touched her lips with one finger, ssshhhing me without a sound.

“I’m beginning to feel like I’m in the presence of greatness,” I thought to myself.