Love Unscripted
Page 35
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
He looked like he should be in a rock band instead of being a movie star. Regardless, his smile was dazzling.
“What would you gentlemen like to drink this evening?” I tried to be cordial as more overly excited women came in. The second they saw Ryan and his friends, their demeanor turned to bubbling exuberance.
While the guys looked over my beer menu, the coyotes descended. Ryan was like a huge chick magnet, even though Shane and Cal were equally as handsome. In no time at all, the brave ones in the crowd tried to cozy up to the actors.
I tapped a beer for each of them and with every second that I had to watch all the over-zealous girls flirting I became more and more irritated. I placed the last beer on the bar when Ryan asked what he owed me.
I waved my hand. “Nothing. It’s on me.” I smiled.
My smile, however, quickly faded after seeing even more giggling women rush through my door. I hurried out from behind the bar; I was on a mission to stop the invasion.
“Pete, no more people get in,” I inadvertently barked at him.
“Okay,” he replied a tad defensively. “Sorry – are there too many people in there now?”
“No, but we’ve filled our quota of obsessive fans,” I snapped as I eyed the girls who were waiting to pay the cover charge. “People need to get a freaking life,” I mumbled to myself and stomped my way back to the bar.
Ryan and his friends were still standing by the bar but now women surrounded them on all sides. Tramp! Slut! shouted in my brain as I stormed past them. Ryan’s gaze followed me but I didn’t look at him. I stepped back behind the bar and for a moment entertained the idea of smashing some girls with my baseball bat.
I purposely relocated myself as far away as possible from him and the gaggle of women, which landed me directly in front of Mr. Baseball Hat. I nudged Marie in Ryan’s direction.
Fortunately my pub was packed and I was hustling making one drink after another. I made a conscious effort not to look for him or in his direction, even though it was hard. Occasionally I’d allow myself a quick peek, but I never let my eyes linger.
“Are you mad that he’s here?” Marie whispered in my ear.
I shook my head while I prepared two vodka tonics.
“Well you look mad,” she laughed at me. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m allergic to whores,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Oh, I see. Jealous, not mad,” she corrected.
I huffed out loud. “How am I supposed to compete with all of that?” I nodded at the crowd of women. “Ahh, it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re fucked up!” Marie snapped back at me while she was mixing a drink. “If you haven’t realized it yet, he’s in your bar. He’s being nice to them, but he is far from flirting with any of them. He’s too busy watching you to notice them.”
I grimaced when she nudged me to speak privately.
“And another thing, if you’re going to be jealous, then that means you like him more than you’re willing to admit. This shit is a part of his life,” she noted and waved her hands towards the wall of girls. “It comes with the territory so you need to decide whether you can deal with that or not.”
She stood right in front of me and grabbed my wrist.
“Taryn, you are so attractive and lovable. Everyone sees it. He sees it. But you are the only one who doesn’t. You’ve let lowlifes like Thomas strip away your self-esteem. And it’s pretty apparent that Ryan likes you, because he’s not paying any attention to them.”
I looked away from her to notice he was watching me. Just then Mr. Baseball hat waved his money in the air.
“I’ve got to wait on someone.” I wiggled free from her grip.
“Do you need another one?” I asked.
“Hi. My name is Jesse. What’s yours?” Mr. Baseball Hat asked.
“Taryn,” I said with a forced smile.
“So Taryn, do you work here every weekend?”
“Um, yes.” Here we go again…standard lame approach.
“Do you know what the band’s name is that’s playing tonight?” he asked.
“They call themselves ‘Being Frank.’ Do you like them?” How presumptuous of me; he’s just trying to be friendly.
“Yeah, they are really good! But seriously, tell me that guy doesn’t look like Art Garfunkel!”
His comment made me laugh. We all teased Frank because he did look like Art Garfunkel.
“You see it too, don’t you?” Mr. Baseball Hat joked with me, laughing out loud. “It’s the hair!”
“What would you gentlemen like to drink this evening?” I tried to be cordial as more overly excited women came in. The second they saw Ryan and his friends, their demeanor turned to bubbling exuberance.
While the guys looked over my beer menu, the coyotes descended. Ryan was like a huge chick magnet, even though Shane and Cal were equally as handsome. In no time at all, the brave ones in the crowd tried to cozy up to the actors.
I tapped a beer for each of them and with every second that I had to watch all the over-zealous girls flirting I became more and more irritated. I placed the last beer on the bar when Ryan asked what he owed me.
I waved my hand. “Nothing. It’s on me.” I smiled.
My smile, however, quickly faded after seeing even more giggling women rush through my door. I hurried out from behind the bar; I was on a mission to stop the invasion.
“Pete, no more people get in,” I inadvertently barked at him.
“Okay,” he replied a tad defensively. “Sorry – are there too many people in there now?”
“No, but we’ve filled our quota of obsessive fans,” I snapped as I eyed the girls who were waiting to pay the cover charge. “People need to get a freaking life,” I mumbled to myself and stomped my way back to the bar.
Ryan and his friends were still standing by the bar but now women surrounded them on all sides. Tramp! Slut! shouted in my brain as I stormed past them. Ryan’s gaze followed me but I didn’t look at him. I stepped back behind the bar and for a moment entertained the idea of smashing some girls with my baseball bat.
I purposely relocated myself as far away as possible from him and the gaggle of women, which landed me directly in front of Mr. Baseball Hat. I nudged Marie in Ryan’s direction.
Fortunately my pub was packed and I was hustling making one drink after another. I made a conscious effort not to look for him or in his direction, even though it was hard. Occasionally I’d allow myself a quick peek, but I never let my eyes linger.
“Are you mad that he’s here?” Marie whispered in my ear.
I shook my head while I prepared two vodka tonics.
“Well you look mad,” she laughed at me. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m allergic to whores,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Oh, I see. Jealous, not mad,” she corrected.
I huffed out loud. “How am I supposed to compete with all of that?” I nodded at the crowd of women. “Ahh, it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re fucked up!” Marie snapped back at me while she was mixing a drink. “If you haven’t realized it yet, he’s in your bar. He’s being nice to them, but he is far from flirting with any of them. He’s too busy watching you to notice them.”
I grimaced when she nudged me to speak privately.
“And another thing, if you’re going to be jealous, then that means you like him more than you’re willing to admit. This shit is a part of his life,” she noted and waved her hands towards the wall of girls. “It comes with the territory so you need to decide whether you can deal with that or not.”
She stood right in front of me and grabbed my wrist.
“Taryn, you are so attractive and lovable. Everyone sees it. He sees it. But you are the only one who doesn’t. You’ve let lowlifes like Thomas strip away your self-esteem. And it’s pretty apparent that Ryan likes you, because he’s not paying any attention to them.”
I looked away from her to notice he was watching me. Just then Mr. Baseball hat waved his money in the air.
“I’ve got to wait on someone.” I wiggled free from her grip.
“Do you need another one?” I asked.
“Hi. My name is Jesse. What’s yours?” Mr. Baseball Hat asked.
“Taryn,” I said with a forced smile.
“So Taryn, do you work here every weekend?”
“Um, yes.” Here we go again…standard lame approach.
“Do you know what the band’s name is that’s playing tonight?” he asked.
“They call themselves ‘Being Frank.’ Do you like them?” How presumptuous of me; he’s just trying to be friendly.
“Yeah, they are really good! But seriously, tell me that guy doesn’t look like Art Garfunkel!”
His comment made me laugh. We all teased Frank because he did look like Art Garfunkel.
“You see it too, don’t you?” Mr. Baseball Hat joked with me, laughing out loud. “It’s the hair!”
