I stared down at the jeans and blue t-shirt. Everything fit as if Coco had taken my measurements on arrival. She’d even left me a great fitting pair of black leather ankle boots. They had thick rubber soles that looked a little badass. I loved them instantly.

I walked downstairs. Coco met me on the landing. She’d braided her thick, dark hair and she’d added a giant pair of hoop earrings to the look. It was all pretty Woodstock-like. “You remind me of my mom,” I said as I reached the bottom step.

“Do I? Then I can only assume she is a bright, beautiful and lovely woman.”

Coco’s confidence was catching. I was suddenly feeling less deflated about the David disaster and my silly, misguided choices.

I held out my arms. “How do I look?”

“All eyes will be on you when we walk through the door.”

I laughed off her comment. Coco was the type of person who would steal every gaze and every ounce of attention in a crowded room. There just wasn’t any way I’d be noticed behind her illuminating presence.

“I will tell you this, you are a genius when it comes to picking jeans. Do you know how many pairs I have to try on or ship back to the company until I can find the ones that fit well? Seriously, jean selection is a modern woman’s worst nightmare. And boom you throw a pair on the dresser, and they fit as if a professional tailor sewed them on me.”

“No sense in wearing a pair of jeans unless they make your bottom look spectacular.” She lifted her finger and circled it, motioning for me to turn around. I faced away from her. “Mission accomplished. I think there will be more than the usual number of spectators around the pool table tonight.” She grabbed a sweater out of the entryway closet. It looked a little old fashioned for her, but somehow, it worked with her dress. “Shall we go?”

“Let the adventure begin.” I said.

* * *

The parking lot in front of the Hanky Dory, a shallow, squat building with tinted front windows and the distinctive smell of beer and the bass guitar thunder of rock n roll floating around it, was filled with an array of vehicles, ranging from luxury sedans to jeeps and motorcycles. I glanced quickly at the line of motorcycles but I hadn’t noticed enough about the one that the giant with the brown eyes and great shoulders had been riding. I had no idea if he was inside or not.

I followed Coco and her plate of cupcakes up to a long bar counter. Metal stools were lined up in front of the bar. The rest of the place went along with the utilitarian look of the stools. With such an underwhelming and small exterior, it was surprising to see just how deep the building stretched. After a room of mismatched tables and chairs, a wide arched doorway led to a much longer room that had a line of pool tables down the center. The dark green and blue felts of the pool tables, glowing beneath the rectangular overhead table lights, were the only pops of color in the whole place.

Coco turned to me. She had to speak loudly over the music blaring down from the overhead speakers. “Would you like something to drink?”

I was just about to open my mouth to say white wine, but the word beer came out instead. It had been awhile since I’d had a foamy mug right from the bar tap. At some point in my efforts to grow up and become a woman, I’d convinced myself slugging back beer was gauche. But I was standing in a place where the only person I knew was a mysteriously complex woman, who I’d only met a few hours earlier. I wouldn’t have to fend off any haughty, scolding looks from David or judgmental sneers from his uptight friends. A beer sounded delightful, and if a beer moustache was gauche then I was happy to wear one.

Hank was just as Coco had described. His meaty hands looked as if he could not just rip the phone book in half but turn it into confetti as well. And the oversized fists were just the tip of the Hulk doppleganger iceberg. His jaw looked as if it contained iron teeth, and his neck was as thick as my thigh. At the same time, he had a kind, almost gentlemanly quality in his face.

He leaned over the counter and took the plate of cupcakes. It was quite a sight, a menacing, monstrous sized man, holding a plate of pink frosted cupcakes. Coco had piped a yellow sunflower onto each little cake. They would certainly be the hit of the birthday party.

Hank poured wine for Coco and slid me an ice cold mug of frothy beer. Coco was drawn away by an older man, who looked quite possibly as if he was someone she’d known a long time. I stayed at the bar, hugging the counter like a wallflower, working on my foam moustache and avoiding eye contact.

The room was filled with patrons. Just as Coco had mentioned, a lot of them looked as if they’d driven in from nearby cities. I’d lived not far away for several years and had never heard one mention of the Hanky Dory. But then, I’d somehow fallen into David’s world of more appropriate places to hang out.

“Well, here’s a pretty new face at the Hanky Dory.” I turned around and came face to face with a tall, blue eyed man. He was clean shaven, just a little too clean for my taste, but he had a nice smile and expensive shirt. He held out a hand. “I’m Derek.”

I pulled my hand from my beer. “Emmie. Oops, sorry, my hand’s cold.”

He held it longer than necessary. I gave mine a little tug to let him know it. He released me reluctantly. A dash of his aftershave wafted my direction. The fragrance reminded me of the one David used. The poor man was trying to turn on the charm and sparkle in his very blue eyes, but he’d made the fatal mistake of splashing on the wrong aftershave.

Derek leaned casually against the counter. “I was just looking for someone to play pool with. Do you play?”

“A little.” I had to admit, the clacking sounds of the cue balls ricocheting off each other sent a warm fuzzy sense of nostalgia through me. I quickly jumped into a mind debate about whether or not I wanted to spend the next thirty minutes having to make small talk and flash friendly grins at a man, who, just by the way of his dress shirt and expensive aftershave, had quickly morphed into David’s twin. But then, it was Saturday night, and I’d be long gone from the Hanky Dory by tomorrow.

“Actually, a game of pool would be nice.”

“Great.”