"But, Dylan, has to be number one for me, always. He's a poet."
I nodded.
"Your eyes are so blue. Like aquamarine, and against your skin and dark hair, you look like you belong in a fairy tale."
"Which one? Snow White?" a very drunk Katy interrupted our moment. "I'm one of the dwarves. Drunky Dwarf. I called a car, Al, I'm heading home." She put her head on my shoulder.
"Let me settle my bill?" I said, opening my purse.
"Oh, you don't have to come, Ally. You should stay. Stay!" she blubbered. I kind of wanted to. It didn't feel dangerous. The bar was almost empty. Hawkley was so kind and so freaking hot; I was enjoying his company.
"Please, the drinks are on me. The least I could do considering all the trivia I subjected you to," he waved my money away as he scrubbed down the bar.
A beautiful black woman in scrubs suddenly appeared and approached us with a smile. She had long braids that reached halfway down her back, and I could tell she was super fit despite her uniform.
"Hey, Gloria!" Hawkley waved. She must be his gorgeous girlfriend getting off of work. I felt my face flush in shame for flirting so hard with him while she worked.
"Where's my handsome man? Is he ready to go get some sleep?" she said, in a lilting Caribbean accent.
Hawkley's dad took his sailor's cap off and waved it in the air as Gloria walked over and kissed him on his balding head.
"Of better days, there are none," Bob muttered as he hugged the woman.
"Did he eat, Hawk?" she asked as Hawkley passed her the bank bags from the register.
"Umm, onion rings. He threw the fish away."
"Did not!" his dad protested.
"Fine, the fish got away. PB and J for lunch and some popcorn from the bar, which is probably all stuck in denture plate," he told her. Gloria took the bank bags and placed them into her oversized purse. She signed a ledger Hawk handed her and looked at me, and smiled.
"I'm sorry, I'm Ally."
"Oh, shit, sorry. Gloria, this is my new friend Ally, who is super cool and knows a ton about music. Ally, this is Gloria; her name says it all. Dad and I would probably be dead without her."
She reached over and punched him in the arm. Her laugh was warm, almost like a warble. I liked her immediately and could see how much she cared about Hawk and his dad in her smile and eyes.
"All right, Captain Bob, let's get you home." She rolled up the ledger paper and smacked Bob twice on the thigh with it. He slid off the stool like a child and grabbed Gloria's hand.
"How many juices, Hawk?" Gloria said over her shoulder as they made their way toward the exit.
"The whole pitcher, Gloria, I'm sorry!" he shouted.
She waved him away again and guided Bob to the exit. I looked around the bar and realized we were completely alone. Hawk flicked the lights on, and I blinked in the glare.
"Sorry, I've got to count, and then we can go. Want anything while we wait?" he asked me.
"I've had too much already. Anything I can do to help?"
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, I did two summers at an ice cream shop in New Hampshire. I can do stuff."
He lifted the little metal bowls of garnish out onto the bar all along its length as well as abusing bin. Then he tossed a bunch of plastic lids on the bar as well.
"If it's full, just close her up," he said, snapping a lid on a bowl. If there's not much left, less than half, toss them out in the busing bin."
"I can handle that."
He fiddled with the sound system for a minute, and when he finally seemed satisfied, he turned it up.
It was Prince, the B Sides.
I popped a cherry in my mouth and pulled off the stem.
"God, you're sexy, Ally. Sorry to be so forward. This is probably the worst date you've ever been on, and now I've put you to work."
"Actually, it's one of the best," I told him. "You're smart and interesting, not at all self-absorbed, and I think cleaning up the bar is romantic."
"Really?" he said, lifting an eyebrow.
"Truly," I told him. I put a lid on a full container of orange slices.
He came around the bar and dimmed the lights as he passed the switch. Prince was crooning Do Me Baby, one of the sexiest slow jams ever written. I'd sang it a thousand times, but I'd never ever danced to it.
Up close, Hawkley had a good foot on me. He was built and fit, and his tan arms made me think he did something outdoorsy like surfing. He set down the broom he'd carried over to the patron's side and pulled me into his arms. I sank into his chest and breathed in his vibrant green scent. I gripped his shirt and felt something strong, not like the wham-bam, thank you, ma'am Katy had suggested, but something deep and powerful that connected to me this man.