Attach ments(18)

That’s where all the girls were. Mostly dancing by themselves or with friends. There was a bachelorette party in the middle, dancing in a circle. It was terrible music to dance to; all you could really do was nod and hunch to the music. The girls all looked like they were listening to the same sad story. “Yes, yes, yes, that’s awful. Yes, yes, yes.”

A few girls had climbed onto raised black platforms at the back of the dance floor, beneath a row of green flashing lights. They were dancing with their hips together, mechanically riding each other’s thighs and arching their backs. It was unpleasantly arousing to watch. Like masturbating in a portable toilet.

Justin was watching them, too. “Nasty things,” he said, shaking his head. “When we were coming up, girls wouldn’t even dance with boys like that …

“Look over there,” Justin said, pointing to a table by the door. “Those are our girls. Too much self- esteem to dry hump their best friends, but not so much that they’ll turn down a drink from us.”

Justin was already walking, so Lincoln followed him. They stopped at a table where two women were sitting and nodding with the music. Lincoln couldn’t tell how old they were in this light. He could hardly tell them apart. They were both youngish, mostly blond, wearing the same Saturday-night costume—tank tops, candy-colored bra straps, shaggy shoulder-length hair and pale beige lips.

“Hey there,” Justin was saying, “do you mind if we join you? My friend Lincoln here is buying.”

The girls smiled and moved their black backpack purses out of the way. Lincoln sat in the seat Justin didn’t take and smiled at the nearest girl. Strangely, he wasn’t nervous. This place and this girl were so far outside his everyday life, they didn’t seem quite real. Definitely less real than the women he felt avoiding him on sidewalks and in hallways. Plus, he had Justin there taking the lead, breaking the ice and ordering the drinks. What was Justin’s thing with Jägermeister? And how many shots had Lincoln had so far? Two? Three? At least three.

“I’m Lisa,” the girl said, holding out a small manicured hand.

“Lincoln,” he said, smiling. “Can I get you something?”

“Your friend just ordered for us.”

“Oh, right, sorry, yeah …”

“I’ll take a cigarette if you have one.”

“Sorry,” he said, “I don’t smoke.”

“That’s okay. Me neither. I mean, I do, but only when I’m at a bar or a party or whatever. I hate the smell. But if I’m going to smell like smoke anyway, I figure I might as well have one.”

“My friend has cigarettes …” Lincoln turned to Justin, who was already leading his girl to the dance floor. Damn. Lincoln really didn’t want to dance.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lisa said.

“Do you want to dance?” Lincoln asked.

“Sort of. Do you?”

“I really don’t. Is that okay?”

“Totally,” she said. “You can’t talk out there anyway.”

Now Lincoln was nervous. Justin had taken all the night’s momentum with him to the dance floor.

“So,” he asked the girl, “what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a dental hygienist. What about you?”

“Computers.”

She smiled and nodded. “Computers,” she said, “that’s great.” Her eyes started to drift away from him. They finished their drinks, and Lincoln ordered another round, just to have something to do. He should have eaten dinner. It’s too bad this wasn’t still a country bar, didn’t country bars always have peanuts? Or was that only in the movies, to give the actors something to do with their hands …

Lisa was tearing her coaster into tiny pieces and whisper-rapping along with the music. He thought about getting up, so that she’d have a chance to meet somebody else. She could definitely meet somebody else. She was pretty …probably. In this green and black light, she looked like a week-old bruise. Everyone did.

“This is a terrible place to meet people,” Lincoln said.

“What?” Lisa leaned forward.

“This is a terrible place to meet people,” he said, louder.

Lisa was sipping her drink through a tiny straw. She stopped, the straw still in her mouth, and looked at him like she was trying to decide whether to leave the table right then or to wait for her friend. It might be a long wait. Justin and the girl had moved off the dance floor into a corner. When the spotlight whipped around, Lincoln could see them kissing. Justin was still holding a lit cigarette and a bottle of beer.

“Sorry,” Lincoln said. “I didn’t mean that you’re a terrible person to meet. I meant that this is a terrible place to meet anyone.” Lisa’s eyes were still narrow. “Do you like this place?” he asked her.