“I’m tellin’ you, Teenie,” she said to me. “There ain’t no more worthy men in this crap-pile town. The male well has officially run dry.”
“Oh, come on,” I laughed. “Even you couldn’t have slept with everyone.”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she stared across the yard, a slow smile turning up the corners of her mouth.
“What? What are you lookin’ at?” I asked. I’d seen that look before.
“I just found me a cool drink of water.”
I followed her gaze to the grill, where half a dozen guys stood around Dell. I rolled my eyes. “Ok,” I sighed. “Which one?”
“The tall one, with the ripped jeans and the leather jacket.”
“That’s Poke.” I shook my head. “You don’t want Poke.”
Her smile doubled in size. “Why not?”
“Because…” I began with conviction, but couldn’t finish.
“Would it make a difference?”
“Of course not.”
“Fine. Come on.”
I’d never seen Poke with a girl. I didn’t even know if he liked them but I led Rhonda over to where he stood and tapped him on the back. “Hey, Poke. Someone wants to meet you.” He turned around.
“I’m Rhonda,” she said, sticking out her hand.
Poke jumped back. Bumping against the open grill, he dropped his beer can in on top of the chicken. He burned his hand when he reached out to retrieve it. Watching guys react to Rhonda never got old.
“You poor thing,” Rhonda gasped. She reached out cautiously, as if he were a scalded cat. Taking his burned hand in hers, she said, “Let’s go inside and see if we can get some butter on that.” She led him away, all of us snickering at poor Poke.
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