“Jet and Rowdy are at The Goal Line watching the game. They wanna hangout if you’re game.”
Rowdy worked at the shop with us and Jet was the lead singer of a local metal band we liked to go see play. They often rounded out the group that Nash and I traveled in and going to the bar to watch the game sounded a lot more fun than brooding on the couch by myself. So I put my beer back in the fridge and shoved my feet into my black boots.
Nash drove a fully restored 73’ Dodge Charger. It was a monster of black, chrome and motor. I was pretty sure everyone in the apartment complex knew whenever we were coming or going because it was just that loud and rumbly but it was a cool ride and I knew it meant a lot to him because he had done the rebuild mostly by himself. Nash’s background was a little sketchy, but since my own was less than stellar I never really pushed him to talk about it. I knew his dad had died when he was really young and that his mom had remarried some rich ass**le that to this day Nash refused to have anything to do with. Phil, the same Phil that let us make his shop our own, had been integral in getting Nash to adulthood without a criminal record and a whole pack of illegitimate kids.
The bar was in lower downtown or LoDo as the locals called it. It was a popular hangout for mostly locals and industry people and since I hadn’t been around on a Sunday in years I forgot how packed it could be when the Broncos played. The guys had a table in the back right under a massive flat screen and already had glasses and a pitcher of beer waiting. Fist bumps and head nods for greeting went around the table as a raucous cheer went up in the packed bar as the Broncos scored.
“What up fellas?” Nash poured us a round as we settled in. Rowdy wiggled his eyebrows up and down and motioned to a spot over his shoulder towards the bar.
“Isn’t this better than family time? Nobody wants to see mom dressed like that.”
The girls that worked in the bar were all dressed in sexy sports themed uniforms, some were super sexy cheerleaders, some were in really small jerseys and hot pants that laced up like football pants and my favorites were dressed in little tiny referee outfits that barley covered their bottoms. It was hot and way better than getting torn to pieces by my parents just for breathing.
“No they sure don’t.” It was nice to just chill and spend time with the guys when normally Sunday’s were the worst part of the week but today was awesome and even if I felt a twinge at my selfishness I knew enough beer would squash it.
Jet looked up from the plate of nachos he was steadily demolishing and pointed a finger over his shoulder towards the bar. “Wait until you see the chick waiting on us. Dude, just dude there aren’t even words.”
Jet’s band Enmity was pretty big in the local scene and I knew from firsthand experience he had his pick of groupies and rock chicks so if he was impressed than the girl was probably a dead 10 and I couldn’t wait to check her out. We chatted and pounded the pitcher away in under a half hour and the guys were getting louder and rowdier but it was a good time and we needed another round sooner than later. I had yet to see the elusive waitress of hotness when the hair on the back of my neck went up and I suddenly snapped to attention. There was a blond making her way towards the table. She had on the requisite referee outfit complete with ruffly little black shorts and fishnet stockings. She also was wearing a pair of black boots that looked a hell of a lot like my own, only girly and they went up seriously awesome legs to rest below her knees. The hair was so blond it was almost white and instead of being in a sleek, low ponytail like I was used to it was in twin pigtails on either side of her head and startled green eyes were looking at me from under razor straight bangs. Her mouth was a bright slash of red against a pale face I was as familiar with as my own and while I struggled with recognition my idiot friends were leering at her while Nash was climbing to his feet to enfold her in a bear hug.
“Hey girl, what are you doing here?” Shaw gave a little squeal as she returned my roommates hug but her eyes never left mine.
“Uh I work here, I have for a while. I normally have Sunday’s off but since my schedule changed and it’s busy I picked it up. What are you guys doing here?”
I knew the question was directed at me but I was still too stunned at how different she looked to respond. Nash left an arm around her shoulder and pointed at our friends. “The guy with the goatee is Rowdy; he works at the shop with me and Rule. The guy shoving his face full of nachos is Jet, he sings for Enmity. Guy’s this is Shaw, she grew up with Rule and his brothers.”
I watched in a mixture of awe and repulsion as my friends practically fell over themselves to shake the hand she extended. I still hadn’t said anything and it was starting to get awkward but she just smiled and picked up the empty pitcher and told us she would be back with another in a few minutes. All four sets of eyes followed the swish of her hair and the ruffles on her ass as she walked away and I wanted to punch everyone, including myself in the face. As soon as she was out of earshot Rowdy turned on me and reached across the table to smack me upside the head with the flat of his hand. I swore and glared at him but made no move to retaliate.
“What the f**k?”
He shook his head and pointed a finger at me. “That’s the girl you complain about driving home with every weekend? That’s the girl you whine endlessly about walking in on you when you’re acting the fool? That’s the girl you dodge calls from and avoid like the plague? Geez Rule I never knew you were g*y.”
Nash snickered and Jet busted out in a full belly laugh. I flipped Rowdy off and narrowed my eyes.
“Shut up. You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“No? I have eyes and that chick is killer so either you’re blind or stupid because if I was cooped up in a car with her for two hours every week I’d be thanking God not bitching about it.”
Nash shook his head. “I can’t believe you didn’t know she worked here. Do you really just ignore everything she says to you?”
I glared at him. “You didn’t know either and you talk to her when she comes over on Sunday.”
“I ask her if she wants coffee, not how she makes a living. Dude admit it, you suck.”
I was going to argue but he kept going, “And she is hot, she’s always been hot you just don’t like her so you can’t see it. She looks good in all that fancy crap she’s normally in, but man in that uniform…”
“I like her fine.” I refused to comment on her hotness or lack of because that was weird to me. Of course I had eyes in my head so I knew logically she was a beautiful girl, but she always seemed so cold and so untouchable that I never really thought of her as attractive more like an impressive work of art that was meant for viewing in a museum rather than every day enjoyment.