323 Tender Way

Jeeze, this guy made ladies lose control of their hormones. What was his deal? What was hers?

"You sure are popular with the ladies," I said, sitting across from him. I smiled at him genuinely. I was just observing a fact.

He had a poker face as he shrugged. "The girls in this town remember my glory days. For them, I'm some sort of prize to conquer, a bad boy, exciting. They don't really know me or my story, just what they imagine in their heads. I hate it, to be honest with you."

"Walking false advertising?”

“Exactly! Spot on. Has that ever happened to you?”

“Well, yes. See these boobs? The full C small D cup I have?”

“Noted.”

“I had these at ten. So I was ten, but looked like I was seventeen. Guys cat called. Like as old as my dad or grandpa. I hate walking by construction sites. I was a little kid and these guys were yelling porny things at me, and I was like, what the fuck, dude. I’m in fifth grade. Made my Gran buy me a whole wardrobe full of oversized shirts to try to hide them.”

“Shit, well you know then. Exactly like that! See? I knew we were kindred spirits. I’ve got the tatts and the bike, but also a reputation from when I was younger. I grew up and changed, but nobody gives a fuck. They still want to pack you into that box they made, tell you who you are. It sucks.”

“Have you always lived here?"

"Yes, ma’am, born and raised. Then I had a stint where I left for a while, but ten years ago, I came back and never left. I don't think I ever want to leave again."

"Why did you leave?" I asked. I pushed my menu aside and leaned my elbows, bringing my head closer to his. I already knew what I wanted before we walked in.

"I had my hopes crushed at sixteen, got myself in over my head. It took a few years to screw it on straight again. I’m still paying for all the mistakes I made."

“That’s what life is though, right? Enjoying the spoils of your battles and victories while crying into your soup about the losses and mistakes.”

"Do you know what you want? Are you both having soup?" Sally asked, appearing out of nowhere. She kept her stare on Duke, pretending I was just a pesky fly. I was surprised she didn't try to swat me. She was all pink and blue, pink lips and cheeks, blue eyes and eye liner, a blue fifties style dress and her coiffed hair was platinum. It was kind of surreal, like she was wearing a Halloween costume.

In contrast, I had on black jeans and a black long sleeve t-shirt, a dark grey cardigan covering my tits—a lifelong habit at this point—and a beanie on my head to disguise the fact that my hair hadn’t seen a shower in a couple of days. At this point, it probably looked like I was going grey from all of the dry shampoo. She waitressed in platform white sneakers while I wore black and white checkered Vans that we nearly brown from spilled coffee.

"I'd like a mushroom cheeseburger with extra jalapenos and that ghost pepper hot sauce, please," I said. “Can I also have a chocolate malt and the seasoned fries on the side?”

She didn’t even look at me. I didn't know why it bothered me that she was so into Duke. I'd just met him, he didn't owe me anything, but at that moment, I wanted to pull her hair right off of her head, make her turn and face me instead of drooling all over the man in the booth across from me. “We’re talking here!” my inner voice said in its best Robert De Niro.

Maybe it was because I understood now that Duke was wearing a Halloween costume too. It no longer reflected who he was on the inside and he suffered because of it. He didn’t like being objectified. I vowed to myself then and there to get to know the new Duke and refuse to care about his past or his looks that he felt had marked him.

“So babe, what are you having tonight?” I said to Duke in a loud exaggerated tone.

He looked up at me from the menu and a small smile played on his lips.

“Just don’t get the coleslaw again, honey. You remember what it did to your stomach last time. I’m the one who has to sleep next to you,” I sing-songed.

I winked at my new friend and he looked absolutely pleased with my ruse. If he wanted to reinvent himself, well then, what the heck, I’d help him. Throw them for a loop and keep their heads spinning. A little payback for staring. He wasn’t a male model. He was just a big handsome tattoo artist with a hero complex.