AMY

The bar on Las Palmas was all corrugated iron on the outside and exposed brick walls inside. With a dozen flat-screen TVs, spray can graffiti art, and five-dollar shots, it had a trailer park aesthetic and old-school vibe that was supposed to be ironic rather than literal.

Amy spotted him immediately because he was the only person in the place over the age of twenty-five. Frank (no last names) leaned casually on the bar, a bottle of beer in his hand. He wore a dress shirt tucked into jeans belted below a heaving belly and looked completely out of place among the surfer dudes and college kids.

The bar had been Frank’s suggestion, and she felt embarrassed for him, choosing such an inappropriate venue for a man of his age. Or maybe his selection had been for her benefit, to make her feel more relaxed.

Yeah, fat chance.

Amy wove her way through the crowd until she reached the bar. She tapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry I’m late.”

He was wearing too much cologne, and it caught in her throat as she spoke, making her cough, but Frank didn’t seem to notice. “Cindy! You made it.”

He gave her a wet kiss on the cheek, and she had to resist the urge to wipe the damp spot left behind on her skin.

“Do you want your usual?” Frank asked the question just loudly enough for other patrons nearby to overhear, as though he was trying to give off the impression Amy was his wife or girlfriend. She noticed the bartender, a hot guy with lots of tattoos and a pierced septum, give her a quizzical look as if to say, What the hell are you doing with the old fat guy?

“Just a Diet Coke, please.”

Frank frowned. “You sure? You don’t want a chardonnay instead?”

“A soda is fine.”

Frank ordered the drinks while Amy gazed around the room. The place was full of kids her own age laughing, drinking, flirting, having fun. She felt a pang and wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or resentment.

The soda arrived, and she took a sip, wishing she’d had some booze after all. She was torn between wanting the night to be over with as soon as possible and putting off what lay ahead.

Frank watched her as she drank, barely concealed desire in his eyes. They were small beady eyes, and they took in every inch of her body. He drained his bottle of Bud and licked his lips. “I, uh, have a place in mind for tonight. It’s nearby. You ready to go?”

Amy wasn’t ready to go. She didn’t want to leave the bar, with its people and music and carefree fun. “I was thinking we could have another drink here? It seems like a cool place.”