of crossed legs. Long, delicate fingers played with an empty
glass. As he walked by, he noticed that her facial expression
never changed, an opaque mask that hid her thoughts. He
kept on walking to the other end of the bar, acting
disinterested.
O.E. turned and watched her for a few minutes, hoping
to catch her eye or figure out whether she was available. But
she just sat there barely moving. Her elbows were on the
bar, her gaze studiously avoiding anyone or anything. The
seat on her left was vacant and the person on her right
ignored her-a beautiful woman, all alone in a crowded
nightclub. Inconceivable.
O.E. wandered back and made his play. "You're lost in
thought. What's on your mind?"
She turned quickly and looked at him with big eyes.
"You shouldn't be talking to me." Was that fear he saw?
"Why not? You seem very serious, very beautiful, and
very much like someone I'd enjoy talking to. What's
bothering you?"
She belted out a single laugh and looked at him
nervously. "Well, I'll give you credit for noticing my
discomfort. But you lose all of those points, and even more,
for trying to help." She looked around briefly, and her eyes
flashed. Then she quickly dropped her head and looked
away from O.E. "Quick, get out of here! He's coming back."
"A jealous boyfriend?" That was no surprise, especially
from a woman who looked like every man's wet dream. But
boyfriends come and boyfriends go. O.E. knew he could
compete with the best of them and relished the chance to
try.
No need to panic, my dear. O.E. wasn't afraid-after all,
he was just talking to her. If she wasn't available, perhaps
she had some friends. Here in this anonymous club, he
could grow a new network of acquaintances and find his
partner for Malibu. With a smile on his face, O.E. turned
casually to begin his new life with people who had never
heard of O.E. Orton.
Expecting to see her boyfriend's face, O.E. was
momentarily confused to find his field of view blocked by a
huge fist flying toward him. Before he could react, the fist
grew even larger and connected solidly with his jaw. He
heard a crunching sound and felt pain rip through his head
as he staggered backward. Grabbing onto a chair for
support, O.E. looked up at the all-beef boyfriend, now
scowling at his competition.
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
O.E. tried to answer, but his jaw hurt so much that he
could only grunt.
The bartender ran over and started to lecture the angry