The Lonely Heart Club – a prompt story - 3. Roman II #388

“Snow? Again? How much more are they expecting?” Roman watched a group of people who had just come in, brushing snowflakes from their coats.

“Now he’s talking about the weather.” He heard a very un-ladylike snort from his left side. “Maybe we should get you away from watching your piano man flirt with the little brunette who’s just peeling herself effectually out of her too small jacket to show off her too generous cleavage?” Mason whispered in his ear.

“What are you talking about?” He knew it was a mistake as soon as the stupid question had left his mouth. You couldn’t fool Mason Brunelli. She was one of their sharpest minds, known for her keen eye and powers of observation. Nothing got past her when she was on the prowl. And her prey for the evening was Roman and his obsession with Martin. He couldn’t look away even though the man joked and flirted with everyone but him.

And she pounced. “Seriously, Roman? I know you want him. Make a move or go home. I’m fed up watching you watching him with that mix of puppy dog eyes and hungry tiger every night. It’s not you, and besides, you’re making me moody. I have set my eyes on the sexy new bartender.” She tipped her head so that her lips almost touched his ears. “Did you see his hands? So big and strong ahh…I’m definitely a hands girl.”

Now it was Roman’s turn to snort. “And an ass girl, no pun intended. And shoulders. Right? Strong and broad and oh yeah…legs, if they’re long and muscular and slightly hairy. How could I forget those!”

“You’re right.” She nodded. “What can I say? I like diversity. I’m a hard-working woman who needs something to distract her from office intrigues, high-strung clients, and a cold and lonesome home. Something that makes me sleep at night.”

Surprised at the sudden seriousness in her voice Roman turned his head just in time to see tiredness flashing over her face, her amber eyes suddenly weary. But the moment was gone before he could blink. She winked at him. “Gotcha! And you forgot that sometimes I’m even a cleavage girl.” She eyed the brunette. “Not her though, sorry Roman. High and tight is what I like, not artificial voluptuousness.” Mason shook her head. “I would jump in, sacrifice myself for the greater good and let Robert the barman go for tonight to get her away from piano man for you but no…not my cup of tea.”

Mason slapped his arm so that it stung. “Go get him, tiger!” Then she laughed so hard she almost fell from her bar stool. “Make him serenade you.”

With that she grabbed one of the slips of paper where patrons could write down their song request, turned her back to him while she scribbled several words down, the waved the waitress to come over.

“What are you doing, Mason? Stop it.”

“Nuh-uh.” She handed her request to the waitress, together with a generous tip, a meaningful look, and a wink.

“It can’t be that you’re afraid he’ll say ‘no’, because that never fazed you, so there must be something about him that makes you hesitate. I’m intrigued and I want to know who’ll be the winner of this little game you two have going, so I'm upping the ante.”

Roman watched the waitress arranging a glass of red wine and Mason’s request neatly on a small silver tray and bringing it over to Martin. From behind, he heard his friend’s throaty laughter at something the bartender had said. It sounded like her evening was set.

He saw Martin listening to the waitress, taking a sip from his glass while he read the request. Then his dark eyes were immediately on him while he put the glass down, and shortly after, the first notes of ‘Clock’ sounded through the bar. He mouthed ‘tiger’ just before he started to sing.

'Clock' Coldplay