Extra Tickets

"I don't understand why you're getting so upset about this!" John arrogantly protested as I angrily stood from my chair and tossed my napkin on the table. "Why is it a big deal if we wrap up dinner so I can head to the game with the guys? I mean, come on, it's the middle of the pennant race!" My eyes looked from our entrees -- freshly arrived at the table -- to the restaurant bar where three of John's friends beckoned him to join them, tapping their watches impatiently.

The temperature of our argument had risen quickly as John doubled down and dug in that he'd done nothing wrong in abruptly bailing on our date to leave for a baseball game. The fact we were out to dinner to celebrate my promotion -- and raise! -- seemed irrelevant to him in waging his defense. That I'd been forced to wait for and reschedule tonight's date three times because of John's unpredictable work commitments also failed to register with him as a factor in my frustration at his allowing his friends to intrude on our time together.

Without leaving his seat, John reached across the table and grabbed my wrist. "Like I said, I'd ask them if you can come, but I'm sorry, they don't have an extra ticket. Jeez, calm down..." Surely, at some level, John must have realized his mistake before those two lethal words passed his lips, but by the time his eyes slowly blinked in agonized recognition, I had twisted my hand free of his grasp and snatched my handbag from the chair.

Bending over the table toward John, letting the plunging V-neck of my dress wilt downward to flaunt my ripe, bra-less tits -- a mesmerizing reminder of what he would not be partaking in tonight because of his choices -- I delivered my cutting goodnight to my boyfriend. "I'm gonna go 'calm down' somewhere else. Enjoy your night out with your douchebag friends." I whirled toward the exit, glanced over my shoulder to deliver my parting shot, "Call me when -- if! -- you grow up!" then fiercely stalked through the dining room out to the street.

Outside, I breathed deeply, letting the fall night air cool my flushed cheeks and chest. I strode purposefully away down the sidewalk, unsure of where I was headed but unwilling to appear so in case John was watching through the restaurant's glass front doors -- like he should be! "God! He can be such an idiot!" I hissed aloud to the surprise and amusement of other pedestrians.

My bright blue pumps clicked crisply on the sidewalk, the steps striking quickly as I hurried to the intersection. I paused at the crossing, reading the street signs, and pondering my next move. Clear of the cover of buildings, the wind gusted down the open street. I hunched my shoulders and rubbed my bare arms against the autumn chill; the body-hugging yellow polyester of my sleeveless dress did nothing to block the cold, and, in my huff, I'd forgotten my jacket at the restaurant. Fighting to stop my teeth from chattering, I cursed John's rudeness for causing my own mental lapse.

I tried and failed to hail five cabs in a row. "What's the good in foregoing a bra if I can't even get a cabbie to stop?!" I wondered, flummoxed at the failure of my dress's short hemline and deep cleavage to attract a driver's attention when I needed it. I racked my brain for options. I certainly couldn't walk the three miles uptown to my apartment in these heels. After another glance at the cross-streets, an idea kindled in my cold brain and my stiffening fingers typed out a text. My friend Lucy worked a couple nights a week as a bartender at a fancy hotel a few blocks away; hopefully she was working tonight, otherwise I remained at the mercy of the oblivious cabbies.

"Tell me you're working tonight! Can I come hang out?" I prayed that she had picked up a Friday shift, and that she wasn't too busy to check her phone. I was relieved to see the 'responding' bubble pop-up immediately.

"Hey hottie! You're always welcome, and tonight is dead AF so please come entertain me!" I looked to the sky in thanks and tucked my wavy red hair out of my face behind my ear. Confirming I'd see her in a few minutes, I silenced my phone and put it away in my purse, then hurried through the intersection and down the six blocks to the hotel.

Ten minutes later, the smiling doorman tipped his cap as I passed through the front doors. "Brisk out there tonight, eh, Miss?" he greeted me, his eyes following the jiggling march of my rack beneath the clingy yellow dress. I politely returned his smile, scoffing in my head "Sure, 'now' they're drawing attention!", then crossed the large lobby toward the bar. Near the bank of elevators, people were arranging folding tables in a 'U' in front of a stack of boxes. I hurried past; I had urgent griping to do with Lucy.

As I approached the bar doors, confusion mounted in my mind. Lucy had clearly said it was a quiet night; in fact, she'd basically begged me to come because it was 'dead AF'. But from outside the doorway, the crowded bar rumbled with rowdy voices. I entered and saw the booths and pub tables packed with bodies. Every cluster of patrons seemed to simultaneously interact with each of the surrounding groups, until the din of the room hung in the air like smog. I noticed that everyone in the boisterous crowd was dressed head-to-toe in blue and gold, which could explain the friendliness between parties.

Grappling my way through the mob to the bar, I wedged myself into an open stool between pulsing knots of bodies. Behind the bar, Lucy scurried between customers. The wall of arms waved over the rail like a forest of sea anemones, every person frantically trying to draw Lucy's attention, brandishing a card or a fistful of cash. She somehow spotted me in the crowd and conveyed "I'll talk to you in a minute" with her frenetic eyes. With my arms crossed on the counter to defend my position, I nodded in reply, wearing an expression of astonishment at the bar's crowded condition.

Lucy approached my spot, handing out beer bottles as she went. Grinning mischievously as I held her eye-contact, I propped my D-cups invitingly on top of my crossed forearms. The plump globes swelled out of the open V of my dress, the exposed flesh screaming for attention above the racket. "Who do I have to fuck to get a drink around here?!" I jokingly demanded, shouting to make my voice heard.

"Damn, baby!" she laughed while holding up one 'just a second' finger to twenty customers at once. "You know most nights I'd bend you over the bar, myself..." she started fixing a vodka soda without my asking, "But tonight got fucking crazy!"

"Yeah, when did this happen? Fifteen minutes ago, you said it was dead!" I took my drink and sipped through the doubled cocktail straw as she answered.

"It was! Then..." Lucy threw out her arms in bewilderment. "They're all State fans -- I guess there's a game in town tomorrow -- hence the matching color scheme. This is the official team hotel or whatever. I gotta get back to work... But hey! At least you fit in! Well, your outfit at least..." She pushed a backup drink into my hand, then kissed her fingers and touched them to my cheek before rushing back up the gauntlet of customers.

I sipped my drink, a little bummed that my friend was too busy to listen to me grouse about my dud of a boyfriend. At least Lucy would take home plenty of tips tonight. I watched her slender figure move as she gracefully whirled behind the counter, serving each customer in turn. A pretty girl in a bar full of thirsty football fans stood to make a killing with a crowd like this. "But what did she mean 'my outfit' fits in?" I pondered. "Why would I not otherwise..."

A woman bumped my hip as she fought for space at the bar, interrupting my train of thought. I glanced over and saw her glittery gold pants paired with a blue jersey tied off above her waist; my heels and dress definitely matched the clothes of the partisan crowd. The woman excitedly embraced someone on her other side, her butt jarred my leg every time she moved. By the time I finished my first cocktail, I had talked myself into blaming John for my choked surroundings in this noisy bar, rather than the quiet bistro where my canard a l'orange was going uneaten. The only small consolation was that I'd stuck him with the check. "Idiot..." I muttered under my breath, not realizing how much my voice carried despite the noise of the room.

"Shit, sorry! Did I bump you?" The man beside me loudly apologized in response, though I was certain his arm had barely brushed mine while he vied for Lucy's attention. I turned toward him, my eyes scanning upward longer than anticipated as he towered above my seated figure. The striking black stranger smiled down at me and extended one hand while pointing to his chest with the other, "Ghalen!" He lowered his face next to mine and still had to raise his voice to be heard.

"Sarah!" I shouted back. His hand enveloped mine as we shook. Pointing behind the bar, I suggested, "I know her! Let me get her!" Waving my hand at Lucy, I hooked my thumb at Ghalen. She nodded and mouthed "He's cute; he's next!" Blushing and rolling my eyes, I held out my hand to introduce Ghalen as Lucy approached.

He ordered four beers and four shots, the name of which I didn't catch, then Lucy spun away. Ghalen turned back to me while he waited. "You're a lifesaver, Sarah! And I like your dress!" He indicated his own yellow polo with the mascot on the left chest. I nodded then pointed to the azure pumps on my feet. Ghalen's eyes widened with enthusiasm. "Hell yeah! Go Tigers!" He pumped his fist to punctuate his cheer. I smiled back at the handsome stranger as though my outfit was intentional.

Lucy returned with a tray filled with shot glasses then set a quintet of beer bottles on the counter beside it. A quick count revealed she'd brought a matching number of shots. She waved off Ghalen's money and tipped her head at me while explaining the extras, "She drinks for free," then vanished back up the line to other passionately thirsty customers.

Ghalen placed my undrunk cocktail on his tray in the center of the shots. "Looks like you're joining us; don't worry, everybody else is almost as cool as me. Can you carry the tray to our table while I take the beers and clear the trail?" I cast a final look behind the swamped bar after Lucy's back, then nodded as I set my pocketbook on the tray next to the drinks and surrendered my stool to another impatient fan.

The crowd parted to allow Ghalen's imposing form to pass, and I slipped along close in his wake to the back of the bar. A horseshoe-shaped booth with three other black men, each dressed in bright blue and/or gold, awaited us. They grinned in anticipation as their friend returned, then their eyes widened as I emerged from the throng. The man on one end rose and held out an inviting arm. I set the tray on the table, took my wallet off the tray, and scooted across the red vinyl cushion until I reached the middle. Ghalen followed me into the seat, and the man returned to his spot at the end.

While three new sets of eyes inquisitively assessed my arrival and my dress, Ghalen handed me my glass then dispersed the shots and beers among the group. The three men and their six bulging eyes stared from their friend to me and back again, insistently demanding the explanation that Ghalen seemed mockingly hesitant to deliver. Finally, he broke his aloof act and introduced me.

"Guys, meet Sarah. In addition to absolutely slaying in her Tigers-branded outfit, Sarah got us free drinks at the bar!" It was quieter at the back of the room, and I could clearly hear his deep voice even though he had adopted a more conversational volume. At the news of free booze, the others became even more agreeable to my dress and me joining them. I was promptly introduced to Lamonte, Douglas, and Urick. Each friend had a similarly daunting physique to Ghalen's, and, despite my petite size, it was a tight fit cramming all five of us into the booth.

Lamonte, seated against my left side, peeked under the table to reevaluate my shoes. "So, your outfit... is that intentional?" I wasn't sure what he meant, but Urick, beside him, clarified. "He means are you wearing that because you're a fan of the team."

"Oh! At the risk of disappointing you guys, I didn't know State was playing tonight -- I mean, tomorrow. I haven't been following the college season all that closely..."

"So, you're here, dressed like that in blue and gold, totally by accident?" Lamonte iterated, disbelieving.

I shrugged my shoulders, "Yeah, though, mine is maybe more of a 'lemon yellow' than gold..." I sipped my drink.

Douglas, the man on the end who had stood to let us in the booth, found the coincidence riotously entertaining. "At least now you kinda fit in..." He managed between fits of laughter.

"Okay, why do people keep saying that?!" I demanded. "That I can only fit in because of my outfit?!" The four men bit their lips, holding in more laughter as they exchanged a teasing glance among the group.

"Sarah," Ghalen paused, trying to assign an appropriate tone of patience to his words. "State is an Historically Black University. The Memorial -- the game tomorrow against A&M -- is an annual charitable event for HBCU scholarship programs. So, when someone says, 'your clothes fit in, but you don't', well..."

At his prompting, I scanned the crowded room. To my embarrassment, I realized every face in the room except mine (and Lucy's, out of sight behind the bar) was black. "I am such a dumbass..." I muttered, smacking my forehead with my palm.

"Hey! Careful with that pretty face, girl! It's okay not to know everything about sports." Urick insisted. "Besides, as former players in the program we have the authority to forgive lapses in fandom, you know, in extraordinary circumstances." As I reassessed the large bodies surrounding me, their status as former players made a lot of sense.

"Yeah, you don't have to be Maria Taylor when you're dressed like that!" Douglas toasted me with his beer, settling his eyes in the valley of cleavage splitting my dress's yellow bodice as he drank.

"The important thing is that you're here with us, and -- whether on purpose or by divine providence -- wearing the right colors!" Ghalen was wedged tightly against my hip in the booth as our group struggled not to overflow the half-circle bench. The canary hem of my skirt crept up my white thigh with the friction of his leg and the vinyl seat. "And besides, you got us free drinks! Nobody's gonna argue with that!" He lifted his shot glass in one hand as he placed his other hand on my back where my dress's full-length zipper ended at my bare spine.

The four of them raised their glasses in salute. My breath caught and my heart skittered at the velvety touch of Ghalen's fingers on my exposed back. Swallowing a moan, I forced on an animated smile and grabbed my shot. "To the Tigers!" I suggested.

"To the Tigers!" The five of us shouted in unison. Each man took pains to clink his glass to mine. I tipped my head back and dumped the unidentified brown liquor to the back of my throat. Sweetness, then subtle burning, then a more pronounced, scraping burn filled my mouth. My eyes shut at the intense syrupy effect, and I reached blindly for my beer bottle, which someone helpfully pushed into my grasp. Chasing with a mouthful of beer, I opened my eyes.

"Wow! What did I just put in my mouth?!" I exclaimed.

"Probably not the first time she had to ask that..." Lamonte snickered, his joke almost lost in the din of the bar.

"Hey now!" I protested through giggles, giving his wrist a playful slap. "That's nasty!"

"That was a 'Hot Damn!', which, coincidentally, was our reaction when we met State's prettiest new fan." Douglas flirted. I blushed at the flattery but gestured with my hand insisting on a list of ingredients.

"Vodka, rum, whiskey... oh, and OJ. You know, for vitamins." Lamonte filled in.

"Jeez..." I blinked twice and swigged the last of my beer to clear my mouth and steady my head. "Too many more of those and somebody'll have to carry me home."

"Well, I'll go get the next round!" Urick urgently volunteered, bursting up from the booth and slicing through the crowd toward the bar with astonishing grace for a big man in a congested space.

"It's been a while since our playing days, but I think any of us could handle you..." Lamonte mused, taking a drink to cover his smirk at the clumsy innuendo.

With our group momentarily reduced by one, Lamonte and I spread out into Urick's empty spot. Ghalen also moved, giving Douglas room on the other end, but his hip and ribs stayed closely pressed against my right side. His hand returned to the exposed skin between my shoulders, his fingertips sending chills down my spine as they bumped lightly over my vertebrae. I returned to my vodka cocktail and lifted the glass to my mouth to give my nervous hands something to do.

"Anyway, speaking of 'home', 'carrying', and so on," Lamonte casually sipped his beer before continuing the question. "If you didn't come here as a State fan, why are you all dressed up?"

"I was out to dinner... uh, with my boyfriend." I stopped to take a fortifying sip of vodka before I picked up the story. I felt Ghalen's fingers pause their stroking at my mention of a boyfriend but returned to their soft figure-eights as I resumed talking. "We were at this place a couple blocks away -- we were supposed to be celebrating my promotion and raise -- but he was cutting dinner short to go to the baseball game with his friends." The three listened intently as I overshared about the fight. "So, I told him to grow up and stormed out. But of course, in my righteous fury I forgot my jacket, then I couldn't get a cab in the cold, so I came here to visit Lucy at work as a last resort." My dramatic monologue completed, I looked around the group and fidgeted with the straw in my drink, embarrassed at my lengthy divulgence.

Lamonte gave me another slow scope from my blue heels to the curves bulging beneath my formfitting yellow outfit, to the wavy auburn hair gently draped behind my shoulders and my meticulously made-up face. "You showed up to a date with your boyfriend, looking like this," he exaggeratedly drew his face upwards again, as if scanning me from top to bottom, "and he ditched you for baseball?" I nodded 'yes'.

"Damn! Girl, I can only imagine one scenario with you where I'd be desperately trying to think about baseball!" Douglas responded with a wicked grin. I stared vacantly for an absorbed moment before I caught on to the lewd joke. Giggling "Oh my god, you're so bad!", I reached across Ghalen and landed a kittenish punch on Douglas's muscular arm.

"But anyway," Douglas continued while teasingly rubbing the damage left by my puny fist, "when you got mad and left -- like you should have! -- he just let you go? Sat there and watched you walk out? Dressed to kill and mad as all hell?!" I nodded 'yes' again, and the two exchanged a lengthy silent stare as their cheeks puffed with stifled laughter.

"What an idiot!" Douglas and Lamonte blurted out in almost perfect unison before collapsing on the table in hysterics. My crimson lips grinned with venom-edged-mirth as I laughed with them. 'Glad I'm not the only one who thinks John fucked up.' I thought to myself.

Ghalen's hand strummed more enthusiastically on my back at the news that John was in trouble. "Oh! So, I guess I wasn't the 'idiot' then!" he chuckled, recalling our introduction. I turned my smiling gaze up to his face and playfully nudged my shoulder into his chest. His hand left my back and cupped the soft flesh of my arm and shoulder, clutching me against him. Warm, giddy bubbles fizzed merrily in my belly at his touch.

Urick returned bearing a teeming tray of beer bottles and more brown shots. Setting the tray on the table, his eyes scanned the snickering group interrogatively. "What'd I miss? What's got y'all tittering mischievously like a sewing circle?"