Макс Коллинз - No One Will Hear You

Before long, within the barn-wood walls of Prairie Lights, dancing to the blasting of Brooks & Dunn’s “Boot Scootin’ Boogie,” Danny saw his day change from crapola into possibly the best night ever ...

She was a tall drink of water with curly red hair that framed green eyes, high cheekbones, and lush, red-glossed lips. Though she was slender, she had curves complemented by her tight jeans and a spaghetti-strap green top that contrasted nicely with the creamy white of her shoulders and glimpse of bosom. All this was set off by hand-tooled leather green-and-brown cowboy boots that must have cost a small fortune.

She sidled up next to Danny and gave him an easy smile, which he was happy to return. They danced next to each other through another fast song, then another, and another. Finally, when a ballad began, they left the dance floor together, old friends.

At the bar, Danny introduced himself and asked if he could buy the lady a drink.

She nodded, but the blaring music, ballad or not, made it tough to be heard without shouting.

When bottles of beer arrived, she took hers, smiled, and leaning close said, “Gail Preston!”

“Nice to meet you, Gail!” he said, and they clinked bottles together in a tentative toast.

Funny thing was, she wasn’t his type. She was tall and slender and so was he, and he preferred short, shapely little things who frankly made him feel big.

But something about her, something magnetic, even charismatic, drew him to her. And it wasn’t like she was skinny — she had a nice full rack, and that bottom was sweet. Hell, Gail was a babe, a four-alarm fox.

Small talk at the bar was followed by what qualified as a quiet corner in Prairie Lights, where they ordered another round. Never a heavy drinker, Danny might have three or four beers over the course of an evening here. That might add up to a beer an hour, and he felt he danced ‘em off.

Still, trips to the john at the Prairie Lights were hardly a rarity for him. He was a little surprised, however, to find his sea legs wobbly on his third trip or so.

When he got back to the tiny table, he found another bottle waiting for him. He knew he had to slow down. But he hoisted the beer and said, “Thanks.”

She smiled and took a swig from her latest bottle.

“You know,” Danny said, “most women don’t come here alone. It’s not a rough bar or anything, but... people tend to show up in groups.”

Her smile was playful. “You’re not a group.”

“No. We could be a group. Our own group.”

“There’s an idea.”

They clinked bottles again, not so tentatively.

“Achy Breaky Heart” was playing. Such an old corny song, and playing so loud . But it lent itself to line dancing, and the bunch out there was having a great time.

He thought about taking Gail back out onto the floor, but he didn’t quite feel up to it. Anyway, he liked this quiet time with her.

As the world continued to wobble on its axis, Danny wondered if he was drunk not on beer but on this pretty woman, and the silly, giddy sense he was falling in love. He hadn’t felt this way about a girl since high school. They just seemed to connect .

“Good thing you’re in my group,” he said.

“Is it?”

“Dangerous for a girl to come to a bar alone.”

“Really?”

“There’s a lot of date rape, and worse.” He couldn’t believe he’d said that. Not exactly romantic...

“You said you were a cop. You must deal with some bad people.”

He’d told her he was a cop in Santa Monica; she’d told him she worked for a Chicago company and made regular California visits.

“Bad people? Sometimes I do, yeah.”

He told her about this morning. It had suddenly become an hilarious anecdote, and she laughed often and in a sweet, fetching way.

“Now I know I’m safe,” she said, and she looped her arm in his. “With you.”

“I don’t know. I know some pretty rough characters on the PD.”

“Then am I in danger?”

“From me? No way.”

“Not even... date rape?”

She said that with a smile. A suggestive one. His head was doing a dipsy doodle.

Suddenly his voice sounded defensive to him. “I wouldn’t... force a woman. I would never take advantage.”

“I was just teasing... Look, it’s getting a little loud in here. Crowded, too. Maybe we should find someplace quieter. Where we can really... talk.”

The noise was getting to Danny, too, contributing to his wooziness. Leaving the bar seemed like a good idea. He tried to think of some quiet place in Reseda, maybe a restaurant, when she made a much better suggestion.

“My motel’s not far from here,” Gail said, her smile just a glimmer at the corner of her mouth. Her expression held promise but also excitement, and a certain nervous edge.

“Uh, sure. Sounds good.”

“I don’t ever do this.”

“What?”

“I don’t pick up men. You need to know that. It’s just... Danny, you’re different. I feel like I’ve known you forever. So please... don’t think badly of me.”

“I don’t! I’m not!” This was the soberest he’d felt in about an hour.

They rose, Danny hoping he could hold it together — his legs unsteady, his stomach, too. He was feeling like he might be getting the damn flu or something.

Following the lovely redhead toward the exit, he had the fleeting thought he should maybe beg off, collect her contact info, and just head for home. He could just see himself folding her into his arms and moving in for the kill and... throwing up in her lap.

But her swaying hips, in those tight blue jeans, were like the swing of a watch in a practiced hypnotist’s hands.

Outside, with the sun down, a cool breeze swept in off the ocean, providing the fresh air Danny needed to feel a little better.

A concerned Gail took his arm. “You look a little green around the gills, honey. You okay?”

“I’m fine... never better.”

Screw it .

He drew her close and kissed that lovely moist mouth, and she kissed back, her tongue darting into his mouth, like a teasing snake’s. They kissed again, and again, then broke the clinch to come up for air.

“You’re fine, all right,” she said, her smile taking on a wry tilt. “You up to driving?”

No .

“Sure,” he said.

She studied him. “Honey, you had twice as many beers as I did...” “Did I?”

“Why don’t you just ride with me, and we’ll bring you back here when you’re feeling better?”

This was a decent enough neighborhood and his off-duty piece was safely hidden away in the spare tire compartment and locked inside the trunk.

“Good idea,” he said. “You drive.”

She led him to a white Kia Sorento. And then they were inside the vehicle, kissing in the darkness behind tinted windows. When he started nuzzling her shoulder and trying to get a hand under her top, she said, “Whoa there, big fella — don’t leave it all in the gym. Save a little for the big game.”

He grinned at her goofily. “Is there gonna be one?”

“I’ve got a nice big king-size bed in my motel room where we can discuss that.”

“Okay,” he said, with an even goofier smile.

As she pulled out of the parking lot, he asked, “What kind of work you do?”

“I’m a headhunter,” she said.

“That sounds scary.”

“Not for the one doing the hunting.”

“... If I wanted a better job in police work, could you help?”

“Sure.”

Gail made a right onto Roscoe and he settled back into the seat and enjoyed the ride with the window down, the fresh air gliding over him. By the time they got to the motel, he was feeling better and — given this company — he figured he wasn’t likely to pass out or fall asleep on Gail.