JASON STARR - Panic Attack

He smiled widely, letting her see his perfect white teeth, and looked right in her eyes like he was totally enamored with her. He knew humble was the way to go and said, acting totally blown away and flattered, “You really think so?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Haven’t you heard that before?”

“Never,” he said. “Wow, you really made my day.”

He maintained eye contact, letting her notice his light blue eyes, which women often complimented. In fact, just last night the woman he’d picked up in Brooklyn told him that he had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen. He wound up screwing her, but he’d gotten away with only about a hundred bucks and no jewelry. Hopefully this woman would be a bigger score.

“By the way, I’m Gregory,” Johnny said and held out his hand. She was so taken by him she waited an extra beat, then said, “Oh, I’m Theresa.” He held her hand for a few seconds longer than necessary, letting her know that he liked her, that he was interested. It was so easy to pick up women; at least for him it was. He knew he didn’t have to come on strong and try to impress them with a fancy job and make them laugh nonstop. Women wanted to be noticed, and they wanted to be respected. All you had to do was be attentive, listen to a woman, show her that you cared about what she was saying, and you were halfway there. It was so simple that it always amazed Johnny when he saw guys blow easy lays by going on and on about themselves. What were they trying to do, scare the women away? Yeah, Johnny knew his looks helped him out a lot, made him even more irresistible, but even an ugly guy could pick up practically any woman he wanted, if he could make her feel special, like she was the only person in the world that mattered.

Johnny made small talk with Theresa-Where are you from? Do you live around here? What do you do for a living?-but instead of just firing off the questions machine- gun style like the average guy, he really listened to the answers and of course, he maintained eye contact the whole time. She said she worked as an office manager at a PR agency, which disappointed him because it didn’t sound like she had big bucks. Still, she seemed pretty well off- middle class at least- and he was encouraged when she dropped that she lived alone. Roommates were always problematic.

He didn’t say a word about himself until she asked him; then he did his best to tell her what she wanted to hear. Since she’d mentioned she lived in Queens, he told her that he was born in Queens and still had a lot of family there. He was actually from Brooklyn and was an orphan, but he wanted to have a connection to her, and it seemed to work. Because she was an office manager, he told her he was “a con sul tant for a financial services company.” If she’d had a lower- or higher-level job, he would’ve told her he did something else for a living, but he wanted to have a career that was on her level. In other words, he didn’t want to be too far above her or too far below her. Also, whenever he met women with white- collar jobs he loved saying he was “a con sul tant for a financial services company” because the job title sounded so ambiguous that he could easily bullshit about what he actually did on a day- to- day basis if the women happened to ask any questions. But the women rarely questioned him about his job, at least not right away, and these were usually one- night stands anyway.

His other brilliant move- which practically sealed the deal- was playing the Catholic card. He noticed she was wearing a crucifix, so he casually mentioned that he had gone to church last Sunday. Her eyes brightened and she said, “Wow, I go to church all the time.” He gave her some crap about how important spirituality was in his life and how sad it was that “the country was getting away from all that.” Then a few minutes later she actually said, “God, it’s so great to meet a guy who goes to church,” as if she seriously believed she’d met her Catholic Prince Charming on a rainy night in an Irish bar around the corner from Penn Station. At times like these, Johnny’s lies amused him to the point where it was hard not to start laughing hysterically, but as always he managed to contain himself.

Johnny knew Theresa was dying to screw him now, that in her mind he was the greatest guy she’d ever met and she couldn’t wait to introduce him to her parents and all her friends. Of course, she might give him a hard time about having sex tonight, doing the whole playing- hard- to- get/wanting- to- take- itslower routine, but he knew that with a little gentle persuading and pouring on a little more charm at the appropriate moment- this was where his good looks and trustworthy eyes really paid off- she wouldn’t be able to resist him.

Then her friend, the blonde, came over and said she had to get home. This was the last hurdle, and it was a major one. If Theresa had driven her friend to the bar (unlikely, since she’d mentioned she’d gone out tonight right after work) or her friend was staying at Theresa’s place (also unlikely, because she would’ve brought this up already) then Johnny’s pickup attempt could be shot. If this were to happen it wouldn’t be any big deal really, because he could simply pick up someone else- or, let’s be serious, let someone else pick him up- at this bar, or, now that the rain had stopped, he could continue on to Times Square and pick up a tourist at a bar around there. He knew he could find a more attractive victim, though it would be a shame because he was oh so close with Theresa.

“Gregory, I’d like you to meet my friend Donna,” Theresa said. “It’s great to meet you,” Johnny said. “I love that jacket. Where’d you get it?” Actually it was a cheap- looking denim jacket that looked like it was from a thrift shop.

“Oh, thank you so much,” she said, blushing the way Theresa had. “Actually,

I got it at Daffy’s.”

“Really? Wow, I love it.”

That was perfect- complimenting the friend, getting her to like him, too. Predictably Donna told Theresa that she was ready to leave. She said something about how she had to get up early tomorrow, which sounded to Johnny like a lame excuse since tomorrow was Saturday and odds were she didn’t have to work. She probably just felt self- conscious, sitting at the bar by herself not getting hit on, and wanted to leave, even if it meant taking her friend with her and- and as far as she knew- ruining a budding love connection. Theresa seemed disappointed and torn, and Johnny knew exactly what she was thinking: Would he have more respect for me if I left? But the fact that she wasn’t leaving told Johnny that she one hundred percent wanted to stay; she just needed a way to justify it to herself.

“Hey, if you’d like to stay I’ll make sure you get home safely.” Maybe anyone else delivering this line would’ve come off as a sleazeball, a player, but not

Johnny. He always seemed sincere and caring.

“Wow, that’s so nice of you,” Theresa said.

Again Johnny had to resist the urge to burst out laughing.

The girls talked it over for a few moments while Johnny looked away, sipping his club soda, giving them space, and then Donna announced, “Well, I’m going home, it was really nice meeting you.”

“You too, hope to meet you again sometime,” Johnny said, thinking, Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.

Donna left, and Johnny knew the last obstacle had been removed- it was pretty much home free from here.

And he didn’t waste any time. After he said something funny and she laughed, he leaned in and kissed her. He didn’t slobber over her with an open mouth. It was a simple, classy kiss. He kept his lips against hers for several seconds and then pulled back and said, sensitively yet with passion, “Do you want to get out of here?”