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An Excerpt from Calamity Jayne Heads West
“Numbers is a bar that caters to people who are looking to meet other new people, but don’t necessarily want the total anonymity and isolation of say an on-line dating service,” she said. “Numbers provides a fun, non-threatening environment where singles can get together, mix, mingle and hang out but in a safe and organized fashion.”I snorted. “Isn’t that illegal in some states?” I said.
“Funny lady,” Sophie said.
“So where does the name ‘Numbers’ come in?” I asked.
“Glad you asked. Every seat in the bar has an assigned number. The numbers on the chairs light up. At various times during the evening a computer randomly selects numbers and those numbers are called out. The folks sitting at those numbered seats have to leave their seats and do whatever the computer selects them to do. Sometimes it’s a Karaoke duet. Sometimes they have to entertain the audience with a skit. Harmless fun,” she said. “They also have a time for interested folks to participate in speed dating,” she said and I blinked, drawing a blank.
“What the heck is speed dating?” I asked.
Sophie shook her head. “You country folks need to get to town more often,” she said. “It’s a way of meeting people you might want to date. Women sit at one side of a long table and men at the other side. A timer is set and the couples visit for between five to ten minutes or so. When the timer goes off, the guy gets up and moves to the next seat and the whole thing starts all over again.”
“How much can you learn about some guy in five minutes?” I asked. I’d known Ranger Rick all my life and was still in the dark about what went on inside that carp cop cranium of his.
Sophie shrugged. “I can pick up a book and read the first page and know whether it’s worth reading or not. I figure the same thing is true about guys to some extent. It doesn’t take long to weed out the creeps or knuckle draggers.”
“How do you know all this?” I thought to ask. “You just turned twenty one a few weeks ago,” I said.
Sophie looked momentarily flustered but made a smooth recovery.
“I’m sure even back in Iowa they’ve heard of fake i.d.,” she said.
My eyes grew big.
“I don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout that, gel,” I said in my nasally, Midwestern hillbilly best. “I git my hooch from a still in that there back forty. Put hair on yer chest, it will. Er take it off if’n you perfer, little lady,” I twanged.
“You aren’t going to embarrass me, are you?” Sophie asked. “I have to live here, you know.”
I did a cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die-stick-a-needle-in-the-eye move followed by the chill sign.
“I swear I will be on my best behavior,” I told her, hoping she wouldn’t inquire as to just what my personal best was.
“And if we see Rick Townsend?”
“I’m like so totally cool with it.”
“And if he’s with Ranger Whitehead?”
“I’m solid as red rock,” I told her.
“And if we spot the cake bandit?”
“Piece of cake.” Triple chocolate to be exact. I slapped Sophie on the shoulder. “I feel good about our little adventure,” I said. “What about you?”
“I feel sick,” Sophie said. “And like I’m going to regret this in the morning.”
I shook my head. Sweet, naïve Sophie. If things went south at the speed-dating Mecca, she was bound to regret it long before then.
