“What do you want?” She asked.
I pondered the question. This was not really the kind of girl you find sitting alone, much less sitting alone in a bar. She was beautiful. She was tall and well-built. Definitely not the anorexic type that repulses me. The sparkle in the eyes told me this was no dumb chick either. She seemed educated, classy, smart, confident and just the right amount of sexy.
She repeated her question while I was going through this evaluation. No shouted words, no hysterics, no “you asshole” look. Just a half raised eyebrow : half enquiring, half amused. I liked her. I decided to be honest.
“You.” I said.
“I’ve heard that before.” She wasn’t angry or disgusted. That half-amused look was still there on her face.
“Oh, and what do you usually say to that?”
“Believe me, you don’t wanna know. ” She smiled happily and mischievously..
She burst out laughing. “So I’m wanted by nobody?”
“Since you ask, I must be somebody.”
“OK somebody, go get me a drink. ”
I got her a martini, and settled down on the chair next to her.
“So what’s your story somebody?”
“Must I have one? I’d rather hear yours.”
“Me? I’m boring. College, B-School, just started my own business etc…”
“Uh-huh, what kinda business?”
“Event management. That’s band-baaja-baarat to you, somebody.”
“And how many pairs of lives have you ruined by now? ”
“27 at the last count, isn’t that something, somebody?”
“Depends on your point of view I guess. Those 54 poor souls would take a rather different view of things I’m sure.”
“You’re funny, somebody.” She looked me straight in the eye.
“Does that mean…” I ventured.
“No somebody, you’re not that funny. It just means that if you are sitting on that same chair with the same dying-duck look tomorrow evening, I might just recognise you.”
With that, she stood up and started gliding towards the door. At least that’s what it looked like.
“Hey!” I called , “What do I call you?”
“You don’t like my name?”
“Well then, pick something, somebody. See you tomorrow.”