If you had met Chance in a bar, you would have really liked him.  I did.  I happened to skip a class one afternoon and opt for a drink at Warren’s, an old neighborhood bar.  Still historically located, the bar is housed in a building built in the 1800s.  Today, it’s in trendy renovated Market Square, but back in the early 1980s, the area was far from trendy. 

Pawn shops, the Pussy Cat lounge, abandoned movie theatres, and other colorful characters your mother warned you about ruled the streets hanging out in dark bars with the smell of stale cigarettes, booze, and urine drifting into your nostrils as you passed by.  But for those who dared to walk the streets of downtown Houston at this time in its history, there were great rewards on occasions.  Rewards like finding Warren’s.

When you walked in, the wood floors echoed each step as you approached the bar.  There were no strangers in Warren’s.  The minute you entered, you were a friend.  The patrons turned and looked, and even if they were just sizing you up, they were polite enough to smile and at least give you the illusion that they knew you.  Once you figured that out, you were just one of the crowd.  Just walk in like you were a prodigal child returning home.  That’s what most of us were anyway.  Prodigal children ducking out on responsibilities in the middle of the day.

It was on such a day that he joined us.  Well, no one in particular.  He walked up to the bar, asked for a draft, and then sat near the window.  I watched him from a dark corner, my favorite spot in any house.  I much preferred to observe, taking notes like some anthropologist. I had definitely studied too much about Tennessee Williams.

So, anyway, he sat there drinking his beer, looking quite peaceful and lost in thought.  By male standards, he was short, just five foot seven.  And he was pink. Not sunburned pink.  Just pink. That’s all you could call it, really.  His skin tone was even more pronounced in contrast to his black hair, dark eyes, and salt and pepper Edwardian beard. 

He wasn’t a handsome man.  Attractive, yes, but nothing outstanding as far as looks were concerned, until he smiled.  His teeth were so white you’d swear it was the work of some high dollar dentist, but he would later deny any alterations to what God had given him naturally.  This natural smile of his was also warm and inviting.  It was contagious. 

I continued to watch as he continued to look out the window, obviously waiting for someone.  When he got up to get another beer, I decided to move closer so I could have a better view.  Sure enough, no sooner had he returned to the table that a woman walked in and immediately joined him.  His smile seemed even brighter when he saw her and his pink skin blushed a deep red, especially his ears. 

She had sandy blonde hair, dark green cat-shaped eyes, and reminded me of those short girls who can kick ass.  You know, the ones who you think, aw, that chick’s too petite to hurt anybody and then you end up with a size 5 1/2 shoe print on the side of your head? 

I tried to listen without being too obvious.  The fact that they were into their conversation is probably the only thing that saved me. 

“So, what did he say?”

“I’ve got the restraining order, but I’ll have to make it through six weeks before we go to court and I can get the divorce.”

“Where you going to go?”

“I have to work.  I can’t leave my job.  I’ll just have to be careful.  At least if I call the cops, they have to do something, like show up.”

“Why don’t you stay with me?”

“You’re sweet.  If I get into trouble, I might take you up on it, but until then, I’m gonna stay at La Quinta.”

“Well, at least it’s not far … from your job.”

“And you.”

“Yeah, but that’s not my doing.  You knew where I lived before you got that room.”

“I know.  I’m just giving you a hard time, is all.”

“You always give me a hard time.”

“You wish I’d give you a hard time.  That’s the real problem.”

“And you know how I feel.”

“Yeah, and you know how I feel.  Let’s not get into this, please?”

“Fine.  You can’t blame me for trying.”

“No, I can’t, and if I could, I would.  We’ve tried it, on more than one occasion.  I love you.  You know that.  I just can’t be with you.  We’re too different.  I need something you just can’t be.”

“So nice guys do finish last.”

“Shut up.  Nice guys are great.”

“But bad guys are better?”

“Shit.  Look, it’s what I like.  I’m sick, okay.  It’s an addiction.  You’re just too good for me, Chance.  You make a good friend, and shit, you’re the best lover I have ever had, but I can’t see myself settling down, and you need that.  You deserve a woman who will be a wife and make a home and all that shit.  That’s just not me, Chance.  I’m sorry.”

“Love sucks.”

“Yeah, but you still love me, don’t you?”

“You know I do.  You’ll never find anyone who’ll treat you better than me.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“Whatever.”

She took his hand in hers and pulled him next to her.  Then he looked at her deeply, took a deep breath, and then got up to get them both a beer.  I felt bad for him and wanted to know more.  I wanted to know how they met, what their past was about, and more importantly, what was to be their future.  It all sounded quite intriguing so far.

Chance, as I now knew him, returned with beers in hand.  He put hers on the table, sat down, and immediately took a long swallow of his.

“So, you wanna have dinner?”

“You mean you don’t have a date?”

“No, smartass, I don’t.”

“Well, I thought maybe you might have met your next potential at the courthouse.”

“Very funny.”

She punched him in the arm. 

“Ouch.  You’re starting to pack some power.”

“I gotta stay in shape to fight off the bad guys, don’t I?”
“If you wouldn’t get with the bad guys, you wouldn’t have to fight.”

“Yeah, but the makin’ up is worth it.”

“You’re really messed up, Amanda.”

“I know.  Ready?”

“Yeah.  Wanna do the Spaghetti Warehouse?”

“You paying?”

“Fine.”

“You’re a sweety.”

And with that, they got up and left, walking down the block towards the restaurant.  I was tempted to follow them, but thought it best that I didn’t.

Next time I see Chance, I’m gonna buy him a beer, I thought as I sat back and tried to imagine who they really were and what was going to happen next.

Once a week I made it a point to drop by Warren’s. Amanda’s divorce hearing was in six more weeks, so I marked it on my calendar.  For the next three months, I spent Wednesday afternoon from 1:30 until 4 at the corner table closest to the restroom but with the best view of the entire bar.  I gained ten pounds of liquid weight from the beer.  Lite beer, my ass!  Well, that’s where it all ended up.  Anyway, I figured the odds would play in my favor sooner or later, and just when I was ready to chuck all this non-sense and get over my twisted obsession with this matter, I ran into Chance again.  He was already seated at the table by the window, three empty beer bottles keeping him company.

            I figured he must have had company, being the holidays and all, so I went to the bar, ordered a draft, and then turned my attention towards Chance and watied.  He seemed really depressed, sunken low into his seat, rubbing his latest bottle of beer between his palms like a giant rosary during mass.  This guy had hurt written all over him. 

            Waiting revealed that there was no company.  The bottles belonged to Chance.  Must be bad, I thought and decided that I still wanted to talk to him.  I paused for a minute, trying to figure out how I was going to approach him without being rude.  I looked at my watch and removed it.  Nothing like  innocently asking for the time, I thought as I took a deep breath and walked over by him, stopping to look at a my missing watch.

            “Damn,” I said in my best over-dramatic-woman-in-distress tone, “Excuse me?”

            Chance looked up at me.  He had a genuinely kind face.  A genuinely hurt, kind face.

            “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have the time?”

            “Yeah.”  He pulled up his sleeve and took a quick glance.  “It’s 1:57.”

            “Thanks.  I was supposed to meet a friend here.  She’s about my height, was probably wearing a red shirt.  That’s her favorite color.”

            “Sorry, I haven’t seen any woman come in wearing a red shirt.”

            “Oh.”

            I tried to look extremely disappointed and turned, looking out the window and exhibiting the most worried body language I could muster.  I sighed.

            “Is she from out of town?”

            I turned as calmly as I could.  “Yes.  She used to live here, but she went away to school.”

            “Which one?”  Chance seemed to be grasping at distraction.  He obviously welcomed it.

            “Texas Christian.”

            “Oh, that’s not too far.”

            “No.”

            “You can sit here and wait, if you like.  Don’t let the beers fool you.  They’re all mine.”

            I smiled and sat down.  At last, I thought, as I took a deep breath and tried to allow this opportunity to go at its own pace.

            “Do you go to school?”

            “Yes,” I answered honestly.  “I go to UHD, up on the hill.”

            “The old M&M building.  Yeah, that’s a cool place.  I took classes there a few years ago.  I didn’t finish, though.”

            “It happens.”

            “I hope to go back.”

            “What are you doing now?”
            “I deliver packages.”

            “UPS?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Well, you get around a lot then, huh?”

            “Exactly.”

            “Are you waiting for someone?”

            “She already left.”

            “Doesn’t look like it went so good, if you don’t mind me saying.”

            Chance quickly looked down at the table and took a deep breath, then lifted the bottle to his mouth and gulped down the last of its contents.  He breathed out a heavy sigh. “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”

            “No, it’s okay. Maybe you can help me out.  I just can’t figure her out at all.”
            “I’m no expert, trust me.”

            “But you are a girl.  That’s more of an expert than I am.”

            “I guess you’ve got a point.”

            “That is, if I’m not keeping you?  At least until your friend shows up, huh?”

He looked like he needed an ear, someone to just listen and let him sort through whatever it was that was happening. 

“So, hey, can I buy you another round?”

            I paused for a moment.  This is what I had hoped for and yet, now that I was about to be in the middle of it, I was wondering if this was a mistake.  This was more than discovering information.  This was about the heart, a real heart.  Real people.

            “Sure.  Another draft.  Anything cold and foamy.”

            “Okay, uh?  Hey, I didn’t get your name.”

            “Sorry.  Catherine.  Cat.”

            He held out his hand to mine.  “Good to meet you.  I’m Chance.”

            He went immediately to the bar, got us both another round and returned post haste, enthusiasm beaming all over his face.  This was a serious matter and now it was up to me to provide some assistance.  I wasn’t sure I was ready for the challenge.

            "So, Chance, about this girl?”

            “Yeah, I was so totally in love with her.  She loved me, too, but, well, it’s complicated.”

            Chance looked at me, down at the table, and then up at me again.  His dark eyes were searching, searching for the words, the answers, some sign of hope.  Throw me a lifesaver, they seemed to be saying.  I could only wait until he was ready.

             Taking a long swig of beer, he allowed the cold refreshment slip slowly down his throat as he swallowed hard. “Well,” he began, “it all started when I went to apply for work.  I’d quit college.  I got bored.  Took too much time to get where I knew I already wanted to go, and I thought I knew more than the professors.  Young and dumb, you know?”

            I nodded and took a sip of beer, continuing to keep eye contact.

             “A friend of mine had recommended me to his supervisor, so I called and got an interview.  I landed a job as a driver that day.  When I went to HR to do all the paperwork and get the drug test stuff started, I walked through the door and saw her.  She was doing a safety talk with the employees and them in the palm of her hands.  She’s about this high (he motioned) and has this amazing blonde hair with so many shades, I lost count trying to take it all in.  I never knew women could have real hair color like that. 

I’ve seen plenty of blondes in my time, but goddamn, that was a traffic stopper.  Her eyes were equally as incredible, all cat-like and shit.  Emerald green, like a bottle of St. Pauli Girl.   She was fucking gorgeous, and I knew if I ever got to talk to her, I’d be in a world of trouble.  I was hers before I ever met her.”

I tried to imagine what that must be like, to be the object of someone’s heart so immediately, without question.  To be the answer.  To be their answer. And to see someone without incidence, without any input whatsoever, and know that they are the one.  He couldn’t be serious, I reasoned as I continued to listen.

“Well, I did the paperwork, got the drug test done, and three days later I started delivering packages.  I got the shittiest routes at first, but later as I got better, so did the assignments.  After a month, there was this big recognition for Accident Free employees.  I found myself called into a meeting lead by our Risk Management Manager.  Her.  Amanda Steele.

I felt my hands start to sweat and my mouth went dry.  I prayed the whole time she wouldn’t notice.  Then when it was lunch time, she called us all up and recognized us, handing us our plaque, shaking our hands, and posing for a picture.  When we shook hands, her grip was firm but her skin was so wonderfully soft.  Perfect combination.  And when I stood next to her for the pic, she smelled like spicy vanilla.  I thought my heart was going to pound its way out of my chest. 

So, afterwards she asks me if I wanted to join the Safety Team and, since they were looking for a new Safety Team Leader, she asked me if I’d be it and work with her to promote safety in the workplace.  What could I say?  So, I was her right hand, and we went to district meetings together and got to know each other, and I looked at her more and more like a friend. 

I’m not shitting you, I still was very much attracted to her, but she became so much more than a pretty woman to me.  Don’t get pissed off, but the only way I can put it is she became real to me, instead of a potential piece of ass.”

“Why would that piss me off?”

“Who knows?  You’re a woman aren’t you?”

“Now that pisses me off.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.  That’s not like me.  I’m just burnt and taking it out on you.  I suck.  Buy you another beer?”

“You’d better.”

Chance got up and attempted to walk to the bar.  The alcohol started to do its magic on the both of us.  I felt less obligated to be polite.  We had gotten passed that stage if he was comfortable enough to insult me and I was comfortable enough to fight back.  Still, I understood where he was coming from.  Women and their emotions were about as unstable as a fault line, and not only did I know this from being a woman, I knew it from dating them.  So, I’d seen all sides of the enigma. 

When he returned, I took the beer, drank about half, and let it hit the right spot.  Chance did the same.  We were both taking a breather, a pause as it seemed we were about to tread on some tender territory.

“Thing is,” he finally began, “I really started to care for her.  Not just that God, she’s gorgeous, lust at first sight thing, but I really started having feelings for her.  That’s when I learned about her relationships, and how she always got with the wrong guys.  She was trying to get out of one when we met.

Doug, her husband, had been stalking her, had stolen her car and burned it, broke into her apartment and stole all her shit, and followed her to work everyday and sometimes waited out in the parking lot for her.  He wasn’t taking her moving out and filing for divorce very well.”

“To say the least.”  I swallowed another quarter of the beer.  What makes a woman put up with so much crap, I wondered, as I continued to listen.

“When we met, she had just re-located to a small motel where she could pay by the week.  It was in an entirely different part of town, one that Doug didn’t know too much about, so she was safe, for the moment, she would always add.  It turned out that the motel was five minutes from where I was living, so I offered to follow her home, give her rides, or any other kind of help I could be if she ever needed it.  She never took me up on it until one night, she said that her ex had found her, and he was waiting in the parking lot.  She said she could see his truck.  She had called the cops, and they were on the way, but she wanted me to stay on the line with her.  So, I did, and the cops came, and as soon as they did, he left, and she was scared.

We talked for hours, and I told her I could come over and check on her.  I didn’t know what else to do.  It felt like something out of a movie.  I drove around back of the motel, where there was a restaurant parking lot, and I parked my car there.  Then I walked across a field, hand gun tucked in the waist of my jeans, and crept up to the motel.  Part of me wondered how ridiculous I must look, but the other part enjoyed the excitement.  I’d never been involved in anything like this, and I got an incredible rush from the experience. 

Anyway, I got to her room, knocked, and she let me in.  She was really scared.  She said she’d never seen him this crazy before and started to cry.  I put my arm around her to comfort her, and she laid her head on my chest, wrapped her arms around me, and let it all out.  I felt so bad for her.  I just stood there and held her until she just couldn’t cry anymore.  Then she excused herself to go to the bathroom and told me to have a seat.  Out of habit, I just sat on the bed and stared at the TV.  The Discovery Channel had a special on tornados, and being an amateur storm chaser, I quickly was absorbed.

When she came out of the bathroom, she sat next to me on the bed.  Amanda apologized and thanked me for coming over.  I told her it was no problem and that I was glad I could help her out.  She asked if I minded if she laid down and tried to get some sleep.  I didn’t mind at all, and she kissed me on the cheek before crawling up to her pillow and quickly falling asleep. 

I just sorta smiled and watched TV until I got too drowsy to stay up.  I turned and looked at Amanda, who had her pillow hugged in her arms like a little girl with her teddy bear.  She looked so sweet.  I couldn’t imagine any man mistreating her.  I looked around and tried to get up, but when I did, she woke up, alarmed, and asked me where I was going.  I told her I was going to sleep in one of the chairs, and she told me to come lay next to her. 

Now, I’ve got to tell you, yes, as a man, I felt completely excited, but as her friend, well, I just wasn’t sure that this was the best thing for either one of us.

But telling Amanda no was like telling the sun not to rise.  It just wasn’t going to stop. 

            Laying next to her, I turned to face the wall, in the opposite direction, and what did she do?  She turned and wrapped her arm around me, spooning with me.  My heart pounded and my mouth went immediately dry.  I tried to think of anything else but her, but when it got down to it, she literally had me in the palm of her hand.   I tried not to react, but she ran her hand up my shirt and began undoing the buttons as she continued downward and unfastened my pants.  At this point, I had to turn and face her. 

            I tried to tell her that she didn’t need this, but she insisted that this was exactly what she needed.  Taking her into my arms, I leaned over and kissed her, softly pressing my mouth to hers as our bodies pressed hard against one another.  Her lips were so soft but her kiss was strong and determined.  It wasn’t that sloppy shit, and God knows I knew better than to run my tongue down her throat.  No, it was like dancing, our mouths pressed against each other like the palms of two hands, our lips parting slightly like her legs, and our tongues touching, tempting each other with strong strokes from controlled tips rolling against the wetness of our shared saliva.

            Amanda held nothing back, and what she gave to me was more than I could have ever imagined, and I had imagined plenty.  And she allowed me to explore every inch of her, every part that I could get my hands on.  I gave all that I had to her, every bit that my body had to offer, and we came hard with one another.  First her, then me, and then her again.  I didn’t let my layover time stop me, if you know what I mean.  I just used my other resources to please her, and I did, and God knows she pleased the hell out of me.  The first thought I had after we had finished and were laying there all sweaty and smelling like fresh fuck was that Doug was an idiot.”

             I tried to maintain serious composure, focusing on the point to all this, but hearing these details was a bit exciting, and I felt a slight bit of shame for feeling that way.  Hoping to mask my feelings and get myself together, I offered to buy the next round.  Chance didn’t mind.  He looked like he needed a break, too.

After retrieving our beers, I returned to the table, determined to get to the rest of the story and trying to forget about the distracting parts.

             “I hope I didn’t offend you, Cat.  I just got on a roll there, and I couldn’t think of any other way to tell it.”

            “Don’t worry about it.  Just keep talking.  I’ve got to hear the rest.  After all, I’ve come too far to turn back now.”

            “Guess so.”  He took a drink and then continued.  “Well, around 4:30 in the morning, there was a pounding on the door.  I grabbed my pistol from off the night stand, and Amanda quietly crept to the door and looked out the peep hole.”

            “And was it?”

            “Yeah, it was Doug.  She grabbed her cell phone and called the cops, while I got ready in case he broke in to shoot the son of a bitch.  Amanda yelled at him, told him she called the cops, and tried to keep me from just firing through the door.  I hated him.  Anyway, five minutes seemed like five hours, but we heard the sirens as they pulled up and then heard Doug’s footsteps scamper away.  I threw on my clothes and Amanda put on her robe just in time for the police to get to the door.  She filled out a report, again, and after the cops left, we just laid in bed in each other’s arms until the sun rose. 

            After that, she filed a restraining order, and she and I started hanging out while she waited for the six weeks period to end.  In that time, we got really close, and I fell for her like mad.  I did everything I could to help her, and she made me feel like I was on top of the world. I was her hero, and she showed her appreciation every chance we could get.  We were having sex like maniacs, like we were addicted to each other or something.  We did things I had only fantasized about and then some that I had never ever dreamed of.  Shit, I began to understand why Doug didn’t want to let her go.  She could drive a man insane, or at least to the point of asking her to marry him.”

            “Did you ask her?”

            “Yeah, I did, several times.”

            “And?”

            Chance took a long, hard breath and exhaled slowly, looking past me and into the wall beyond me.  He took his time before he finally admitted, “She turned me down.  Told me I was a nice guy and all, and that she did love me, but she just couldn’t love me because I was too nice.”

            “What?”

            “I learned later, the hard way, that she liked her men dangerous.  She liked the hot tempered bad boys. She didn’t like them hurting her or destroying her shit, but she like the attitude.  That’s what turned her on.  The rougher and more demanding, the better.  When she met Doug, he was an inspector, and as she toured the facility with him, he told her what he wanted and needed very aggressively, without any professional courtesy at all.  Just plain demanded she give him what he needed without delay.  She thought he was a prick, but the minute he asked her out, she went, and it wasn’t long before she fell for him and married him.  And once she finally got divorced from Doug, she already had another one waiting.

            One week before her divorce, she had already met and slept with David, a leather jacket wearing wrecker driver slash repo man.  I knew something was up when she avoided my phone calls and then suddenly didn’t need me to go with her to court.  She’d meet me afterwards, she said, and when we did, Amanda told me about him, all about him.  With every second, she crushed my heart more and more, and when she went into details about their drive to Dallas, and what she did to him while he was driving, I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

            “What’d you do, Chance?”

            “I told her I didn’t want to see her again.”

            “But you saw her today, right?”

            “Yeah, but only because she was paying me back some money she borrowed from me.”

            “Is she still with David?”

            “Nah.  Turns out he using her as a baby sitter for his kids while he went out and raced cars on the weekends.  But she met another guy who lives in Texas City and works on a rig.  Another rough neck.  Her type,” he sarcastically shared as he tipped his bottle upwards and took another long swallow.

            “So what about you?”

            “What about me?”

            “Well, have you dated at all?”

            “Fuck that, Cat.  The day I give another woman a chance is the day it snows in the middle of the fucking afternoon here in Houston, Texas.”

            “That might be a while.”

            “Damn straight.”

            Chance looked at his watch.  “Hey, I guess your friend isn’t going to make it, huh?”

            “Guess not.  I’d better get ready to go.  I hope things work out for you, Chance, and I hope you meet someone you deserve.”

            “That’ll be the day.  But it was good meeting you, Cat.  See you around, huh?”

            “Yeah.  Maybe next week.”

            I got up, held out my hand, and he shook it.  Then we hugged.  I felt bad for the guy.  As I turned towards the door, I noticed a rather attractive long-legged blonde woman enter the bar.  I watched her walk across the floor and glanced over at Chance, who was looking, too.  We kinda laughed at each other.  He shrugged his shoulders and returned to his beer.  I opened the door, just in time to see the first flurries begin to fall.

            “Did you see that,” I asked Chance and then again turned my attention out the door.  Chance blinked his eyes, trying to focus.  He leaned forward and then sat back in his chair and took a deep breath.  He looked over his shoulder towards the beautiful blonde woman now seated at the table behind him.  He looked at me and smiled.  I waved and left, humming to myself with hope.  For just when he’d given up, it began to snow in Houston, Texas.