Fiction Fragment Friday
This is not my usual kind of story. I started with a few lines and was influenced by a show on television in the background. It is short, but I felt like if I kept writing I would just be dragging it out and it would lose the impact. It’s much better to let the scene end where it naturally felt right.
It was not the worst karaoke I had ever heard, but it was easily within the top five. Of course, I had not been on a blind date with the other four. To be fair, though, I was in fact one of them myself. She had warned me she was bad, but I had not listened. That made the assault on the ears of everyone in the bar my fault. Let’s just consider that a lesson learned.
“See, I told you I was horrible.”
“No, no, you were fine.”
“And you are a terrible liar.”
That was not the first time I had been told that. It is one reason I don’t play poker. Not enjoying the game, being poor, and having no real friends were some of the others. I don’t know what makes me such a terrible liar, but if I did, I probably wouldn’t be one.
“Would you prefer to be on a date with someone great at lying?”
She gave me a little laugh and smiled. “No, thank you. Been there, done that.” A serious look came over her face, but it vanished almost as quickly. “Well, now that I’ve thoroughly made a fool of myself, how are you going to return the favor?”
“Since karaoke was my idea, it seems only fair to let you pick.”
“Oh, really?” Her smile told me I had just made a big mistake.
Thirty minutes later, I found myself in an empty art studio, standing on a raised round podium. Oh, and I was in a ridiculous pose wearing only my boxers. I said a silent prayer of thanks that I had worn a new pair that night and there weren’t any holes. “Are you sure we’re allowed to be in here?”
She leaned her head further out from behind the easel. “Well, it’s my studio, and I gave us permission, so I think we’ll be fine.”
“So, you’re an artist?”
“You came in here and stripped down, but now you ask if I’m an artist?”
“Hey, when a beautiful woman I’m on a date with tells me to take my clothes off, I do it.”
“I don’t know whether to feel flattered for being called beautiful or concerned that it takes so little to get you to strip.”
“You know that was a joke, right? Not the part about you being beautiful; that part I meant. I’m actually really embarrassed here, but I felt bad about pressuring you to sing. Also, it’s kind of cold, so uhm how much longer do you need me to stand here?”
“Oh, I finished my sketch five minutes ago. I’m just enjoying the view now.”
“I can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”
“Well, I guess that means I’m a better liar than you are.” She spun the easel to let me see her obviously incomplete sketch of me. “Not sure what that says about me.”
Even unfinished, the picture looked amazing. The abs were a clear sign she was being incredibly generous with her interpretation. She turned the easel and went back to sketching. Something felt different, though. I decided I needed to break the sudden awkwardness.
“You know it’s going to be pretty hard for our second date to top this.”
“Pretty confident there going to be a second date there.” The mirth was back in her voice.
“Well, I certainly hope you aren’t the kind of person to get a guy’s pants off and then not return his calls.”
That earned a deep laugh. “I’m more of a text kind of girl.”