At an upscale pizza joint in South Miami there’s a woman working the door with long blond braids who looks in the candle light to be about thirty. Tell her you’re heading to the bar and she smiles, gestures teh way, and you go. Keep turning to see her walk people to their tables.
Couple weeks ago you saw her at a gas station on Old Cutler in a BMW with her daughter, a kid, wearing matching outfits. Cute. You find yourself glancing at her again and again because you saw her a couple weeks prior to even this
at a bar by herself, Monday night. It’s just past dark and you’re here with a friend. Men keep approaching her and she smiles, engages, sends them away. People by her drinks.
An hour of her sitting by herself and here comes an older guy sitting beside you. Salt and pepper hair, bearded, short and muscular. He orders a beer, gets absorbed in his phone.
She’s looking at him.
A shot of something bourbon-colored gets set beside his beer.
He looks up.
Bar tender points to the woman on the square-shaped bar’s opposite end. With the long blond braids.
He raises his glass to her and she comes over to him. Sits on the next stool.
You’re tipsy and delighted cuz this is gonna be the jackpot of eavesdropping.
Then the fucking Heat game starts and they switch the volume way up so you can’t hear a thing of what these two are saying.
They’re making out by the third quarter.
And a little over a month later you’re having a drink at the bar of an upscale pizza place, waiting to meet your brother, and here she is.
All these people around you. Their lives.