An Endless Summer(77)

I needed a plan of attack. I would waltz in and simply ignore them. They were just like any other customers tonight. I would hone in on someone else.

Bic Runga was playing a melodious tune on the jukebox and all of a sudden I wished for some hard rock instead of this romantic mood setter. I searched for familiar faces, making a conscious effort not to look Sean and Tammy’s way. Ellie and Adam were playing to the death on the pool table. I spotted Stan at the bar, delving into his pocket and putting his spare change on the counter. I made a beeline for him and plonked myself on the stool next to him.

“Hey, Amy.” Stan’s smile was always warm and genuine; I felt kind of bad for what I was about to ask.

I looked at him intently.

“Stan,” I said.

He sat down next to me, his smile slowly fading.

“What’s up?”

“I need you to do me a favour.”

Stan nodded. “Sure, Amy, anything.”

Bless his heart.

I cleared my throat, trying to summon the words. “Stan, I need you to laugh at everything I say and find me absolutely irresistible.”

Stan’s brows rose in shock. He shifted on his seat, looking down.

Oh God, is he blushing?

He looked bewildered. “… Um, okay.”

I picked up my Cruiser to clink with his beer in unified cheers. “Do I even want to know?” he asked.

“Stan, I don’t even think I want to know.”

“Is this as good a time as any to laugh?”

“Please do,” I said.

And with that Stan started to laugh uproariously as if what I said had been delightfully entertaining and charming. I counterbalanced Stan’s routine with a hair flick.

It was official. I had hit rock bottom.

For someone as genuine as Stan, he played the part like a pro. In the moments that followed, he subtly edged his chair closer, started buying me drinks, and laughed at what seemed were ridiculous moments to us. Like when I asked him to pass a straw, and he laughed and smiled. But to any onlookers it seemed genuine, especially coming from Stan. It must have looked pretty convincing, because Chris twisted the top off my Cruiser with wary eyes that flicked between Stan and me as if he wasn’t wholly comfortable with what he was witnessing. In those moments, Stan lost form – he clammed up, paranoid about Chris thinking he was hitting on me, which would be a definite no-go zone.

“Don’t stress about Chris, you know he’s broody and threatening on his good days,” I assured Stan.

I didn’t know what was happening behind me between Sean and Tammy. I didn’t want to know. I couldn’t even bring myself to look in the direction of the pool table when a triumphant cry rang out as Ellie potted the black.

I would never have glanced around if it weren’t for the delicate, gentle tap on my shoulder. I turned with a guise of surprise, even though I had somehow known exactly who it was the moment she had touched me.

“Oh, Tammy, hi!” I said with over-the-top enthusiasm. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Liar!

“I kept thinking all day about the working bee and I just thought I would come down and have a look. It’s amazing, Amy, you’ve done a brilliant job.”

Her voice was smooth, like silk, and her smile was subtle, earnest, and beautiful. Even I was in danger of crushing on her.

Sean appeared behind Tammy, trying to catch my attention. He mouthed and pointed, “Is that her?”

Oh, hadn’t all his Christmases come at once? I ignored him and instead smiled at Tammy.

“Thanks, Tammy. I had a lot of help.”

Her eyes darted expectantly from me to Stan. “I’m sorry, how rude of me, is this your boyfriend?”

Stan choked on his beer mid-sip. I tapped him on the back as he fought for air. “Oh no, this is Stan. We’re just friends.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just thought that … Never mind.” Tammy blushed crimson, just like she would have when we were younger.

“I just got roped into playing pool.” She cringed. “I’m afraid I’m not really good.”

Sean was racking up the billiard balls behind her. “Stan the Man, do you and your date want to play doubles?”

It was a none-too-subtle jab from Sean and the corner of my mouth twitched.

So he had noticed.

“You’re on!” Stan said.

“It’s on like Donkey Kong!” Sean called as he chalked his cue.

The way he moved to bend and line up the white billiard ball with such fierce concentration, I half expected him to paint stripes across his cheeks and let out a war cry.

“Should I be scared?” whispered Tammy with a glint of good humour in her eyes.

“Only if you don’t pocket a ball,” I replied.