between them, and he thought that perhaps if she were indeed who he thought she might be, that she may have seen him as well when the paths of their eyes crossed, so that there may or may not have occurred an awkward moment for the both of them.
Time passed as Billy sat and drank, wandering in the world of his own thoughts, where fatigue fought with free time and discretionary cash. When he finally retook notice of his surroundings, the crowd had thinned considerably. Most of the bikers had left, and only a handful of regulars remained. At least he assumed they were regulars since the wait staff spent all their time chatting them up while once again his mug sat empty in front of him.
Suddenly, in that way that miraculous things seem to occur at an exact moment while drinking, a moment with such exacting tolerances that it often passes into drunkenness before it can be seized, a waitress appeared.
“ Would you like another beer?” she asked, the simplicity of the question ornamented by tone, timbre, and body language into an irresistible proposition.
Billy nodded and smiled. With a practiced eye, he took a quick physical inventory, as she turned around and headed back to the bar. She was perfect: a young face that was certainly not as young as it looked in this light; a curvaceous figure with just enough extra weight to give her self-esteem issues; straight hair, halfway down her back, just dark enough not to be truly blond.
“ What ' s your name?” she asked as she set his beer down.“ Billy,” he replied.“ Hi Billy, my name ' s Kristen.”
At first he suspected a feigned friendliness, the introduction a way to get his name to run a tab, but then he realized she had volunteered her name, or a name at any rate, without being asked. Throughout the rest of the night, snippets of conversation passed between them, sometimes when she was only passing by on her way to other customers. Billy took this as a good sign. The next day, however, the only exchange he would actually remember would be the last one.
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