The location of Graham Central Station made it a popular nightspot for the local college kids as well as business travelers. Most of the business people down here are affiliated with the oil field. Every now and then we get visitors from other industries. I chose it because it wasn’t exactly in my backyard. A nugget of wisdom my father shared with me long ago in one of his drunken states: If you’re going to play, never do it in your backyard. Of course, I was quite young at the time and had no idea what he was talking about. My young mind pictured a swing-set and a sandbox. Why would the neighbors care if I were playing outside on such equipment?
It’s funny the things that stick with you. The older I got the more I understood what he was talking about. And the sicker it made me. Because at one time he was one of those traveling businessmen for the oil industry. What he did in other people’s backyards, I’ll never know. Nor do I want to.
So I walk in to Graham’s on a Saturday night. It’s a huge place, broken up into several different areas. There’s the dance area for the kids dripping with hormones and alcohol; a lethal combination. I paused and watched the courting and mating rituals for a few moments. Some things never change. Then there’s the gay area. Out of curiosity I wandered over for a few moments, just to see what was going on. Not my scene at all. Next we have the country and western area. It’s filled with overweight drugstore cowboys complete with the hat and boots.  I scanned the area quickly to see if anyone I knew happened to be there. Not tonight. Okay. So I make my way to my target area. It’s more relaxed, the music is a bit softer, and people my age hang out there. I’m not sure what area to label it…maybe the ‘aging and leftover rockers’ area. I pull myself up to the bar and order straight up 7 up. I really feel like drinking, but, since I’m out of designated drivers tonight, I decide to keep it clean.

The bartender had barely enough cloth on her body to call it clothes.  She was ultra-sweet and overly-friendly with enough makeup on for four women.  She could have been my kid.  When did bartenders get to be so young?  I pulled out a Marlboro and nursed on my virgin drink for a while, brooding. 

I don’t know how much time passed.  I became unaware of my surroundings, so when he lightly tapped me on the shoulder I nearly fell off my barstool.

“I’m so sorry,” he said while slipping on to the barstool next to me.  “I really didn’t mean to startle you so.”

His voice was deep and as smooth as oil on glass.  He was fairly good looking, dark, graying hair cropped closely, a small, neatly trimmed mustache and dark green eyes.  He had on an expensive dark brown suit complete with a richly colorful tie.  He looked to be in his mid-forties.  The chain around his neck and the diamond on his right hand told me he had a bit of pocket change. 

I’d decided I wasn’t really in the mood for company.  Especially male company, give what I’d just gone through.  He seemed pleasant enough and certainly was pleasing to the eyes.  Tonight, however, just wasn’t my night for the flirting game.   Besides, I was in a long-term marriage.  However rocky it was at this time, I still made those vows. 

“No problem.”  I granted him a small smile and turned back to my 7 up, giving off the ‘leave me alone’ vibes. 

He didn’t take the hint.  Or wouldn’t take no.

“You know, those cigarettes will kill you,” he offered in a polite conversational tone.

I turned back to him.  “Yeah.  And so can talking to strangers in bars.”  There.  Maybe he’d leave me alone now. 

No chance.  “True.  But I hardly think a friendly little conversation with a pretty lady is going to get me killed.”

I rolled my eyes.  Why can’t guys come up with something original? 

When I didn’t answer him he leaned over a bit closer.  Not enough to invade my personal space, but he was getting mighty close.  “Are you solo tonight?” 

I noticed a slight Texan accent in his voice.  I knew he was some sort of businessman, now I had his number pegged. 

“Yes, thank you.  And I’m aiming to keep it that way.”  This time I didn’t smile. 

“That’s going to be difficult for you.”

He got my interest.  I turned around to inquire “Why?”

“Because those jeans and that blouse really show off your assets.  You’re quite lovely.”

I drew a deep breath.  “You’re going to have to come up with something better than that if you’re on a fishing expedition.”

He seemed disappointed.  “Oh.  Not working for you?”

The expression on my face answered his question. 

“I’m new at this, it’s been a while…” his voice trailed off.

“Let me guess.  You’ve just divorced your wife, you have a couple of kids you miss dearly, and you’re feeling lonely at the moment,” I offered.

He seemed genuinely surprised.  So much so that I actually began to feel sorry for him.  “Wow.”  He grabbed his drink and took a deep sip.  “I…uh…”

“Yeah, yeah.  I’ve heard it all before. Now…uh…”

“Terry.”

“Terry.  Why don’t you be a good little business boy and run along now.  I’m sure there’s some female in here who would love your company.”  I thought for sure that would run him off. 

He made no move to leave.  I seemed to have really shaken him with my quick analysis.  Darn.  I really wanted to be by myself tonight so that if I felt like drinking myself into oblivion no one else would witness how pitiful I would get. 

I watched as he ordered another drink.  A Shuddering Orgasm, with Amaretto, Kahlua, and Bailey’s Irish Cream.  Interesting choice.  He took a few sips and again looked my way. 

“You still here?”

“What can I say?  I’m a glutton for punishment.  Can I order you a drink?”

“Thanks.  But I can get my own drinks.”  I wasn’t about to inform him that alcohol had yet to pass my lips this evening.  I studied him even further.  He seemed like a nice enough guy, but very out of place and uncomfortable.  “Why are you still here?”

“You interest me.  I’d like to know your name, if you’re willing to give that to me.”

I thought about it.  What harm would it do?  Besides, if we were going to continue this conversation, it was probably for the best.   I decided to give him my nickname.  “My friends call me Randi.”

“Can I be your friend, Randi?”

I shook my head and rolled my eyes.  I couldn’t help but laugh.  “We don’t even know each other!”

Terry smiled at that.  “I am really rotten at this.  You are correct about the divorce and the kids.  I haven’t been out in twenty years.  All I’m looking for is some decent conversation, and you have been able to provide that so far.  Your eyes are a bonus…so beautiful.”

I relaxed.  That was the first honest thing Terry said.  Now I had to figure out whether or not I wanted to continue this…whatever we were doing…was it a real conversation?  I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and offered my right hand to him.  “Nice to meet you, Terry.  What part of Texas are you from?”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and accepted my handshake.  “Wow.  I thought I’d ditched the accent long ago.  That’s what gave me away, isn’t it?”

“Terry, your whole self gave you away.”

This made him laugh.  “I’m from Deer Park, right outside of Houston.”  His face suddenly seemed quite sad. 

“Is that where the wife and kids are?”

“Ex.  And yes.  Nine and fourteen.”

“Ah.  Boys, girls, mixture?”

“Boys.”

“That’s tough.  You must miss them terribly.”

“I get to seem them twice a week when I’m home.”

“Which sounds like is not too often.”

“Right.  I do a lot of traveling for my company.  All over the world, in fact.”