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what looked like a silent communication. A moment later, Don set a fruity-looking drink in front of Benny, then pointed at his pink-tinged bangs and smiled broadly.
    “Looking good. Anything else, Benny?” the bartender asked lasciviously.
    Benny batted his lashes and chuckled. “No, thank you.”
    Don grinned at him before turning to me. “I didn’t know you were waiting for this guy. I would have helped you score a table, man. Let me know next time.”
    My brow was knit with confusion. Or irritation. I couldn’t tell yet. “How do you know Don?”
    “I know lots of people. But don’t worry. You have my undivided attention for—” He checked the time on his cell before raising his glass in a mock toast. “—fifty-two minutes. Use it wisely.”
    “Wisely, eh? You’re funny.”
    “I try. So….” He took a sip of his drink and made a rolling motion with his hand, indicating I should start talking.
    I really couldn’t think of a thing. I was gobsmacked and unprepared for… well, for him. I asked the first question that popped into my head.
    “How old are you?”
    “Speed dating for beginners! Slow down. You’re supposed to buy me a drink before you get too personal.”
    “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
    “What?”
    “You’re trying to make me uncomfortable. You’ve turned up the volume and you want to see if I can take the extra dose of fabulous,” I stated with a slow grin. “I’m onto you.”
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “Right. Well, I’ll happily buy you a drink or two, but remember… this isn’t a date. It’s a—”
    “Wrong. It’s a date. It’s supposed to be a date from hell. The ‘fuck that dipshit. I hope I never see him again’ kind of date. You’re doing a great job, by the way. I literally just walked in the door and you’ve already managed to be offensive in at least five different ways.”
    I couldn’t formulate words quickly enough to catch up. I opened my mouth, then closed it before trying again. “How am I— What did I do?”
    “You really don’t know, do you? Fine. I’ll play along. How do you like my shirt?”
    “It’s loud.”
    “What about my hair?”
    “It’s pink.”
    “See?”
    “No, I don’t. I’m stating the obvious. I also think you did this for my benefit. You figured I’d take one look at your wacky getup and run.”
    “You must like me. You’re still here,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes playfully.
    “There isn’t enough room to make a clean getaway and”—I raised my glass in a toast—“there’s no sense wasting a good martini.”
    “Touché.” Benny chuckled and took a sip of his cocktail.
    “Why did you color your hair again? I thought you said you were going normal for a while.”
    “I didn’t say ‘normal.’ That’s an ugly word. I said ‘au naturel.’ I tried it. It was boring. You like?”
    “No. I like your hair the regular way. Without the colors. Why go to all the extra trouble? You look nice enough when you’re normal.”
    “Wow. You did it again. You’re one of those dangerous types who shouldn’t be allowed to give compliments.”
    “What?” I snorted.
    “‘Normal.’ ‘Without color.’ ‘Nice enough,’” he huffed, managing to sneer at the same time. “Who wants to be any of those things?”
    “Hey, I’m not insulting you. I’m only telling the truth.”
    “According to whom?” he asked sarcastically.
    “Most people.” I shrugged, reaching for my glass.
    I swirled my martini lazily as I observed him. I admired his proud carriage and elegant mannerisms. I tried to picture him dressed more like me, without the dyed hair and cosmetics. He wasn’t overly made up, but I detected glitter around his eyes and a hint of gloss. I kind of liked that he wasn’t out to impress me in the slightest. He didn’t care about my looks, my money, or my job. The realization set me at ease in a way and stripped away my last reserve. Or maybe it was the second martini.