Post by Johnny Reb on Jan 31, 2010 10:53:30 GMT -5
The woman at the bar eyes the young man in the booth, who is talking intently to a professional-grade video camera. He seems vaguely familiar, but she can’t immediately recall where she’s seen him before. When he gets up to leave, she shrugs and shifts her attention elsewhere, glancing idly around the bar before her gaze turns to his returning figure. Things start to become clearer: in her mind’s eye, she can see his face, about ten years younger and free of stubble. Recognizing him now, she beams at him.
Woman: Johnathan! My, my…how you have grown!
Reb is taken by surprise; no one has called him “Johnathan” in years. It’s his turn to regard the woman carefully, as if to ensure he isn’t hallucinating.
Johnny: Mrs. Robinson?
She laughs lightly.
Woman: Call me Jennifer. I haven’t been Mrs. Robinson in a long time.
Johnny’s brow furrows, and she’s quick to offer him a reassuring smile.
Jennifer: It’s ok, Johnathan…
Johnny: You ain’t changed a bit, Mrs. – er, Jennifer. You’re as pretty as the last time I saw you.
He hesitates, then gives her a roguish grin as he takes a seat beside her at the bar.
Johnny: …maybe prettier. So tell me: how’ve you been?
Another drink is brought to Johnny as the woman elaborates on her newfound freedom following the divorce, her return to college, and her subsequent career as an executive for a Fortune 500 company. He hangs on her every word, her voice bringing back memories of his adolescent infatuation. When she finishes, he fills her in on his own life and career.
Jennifer: Well, that does explain this rather ostentatious accoutrement you’ve been lugging around all evening. I always had faith in you, Johnny.
Reb fairly glows under the woman’s praise, feeling, more or less, like he’s sixteen again. She looks the same now as then, her face still untouched by age; her figure, perhaps a little slimmer than before. For a moment, the cold outside is forgotten; for him, it’s that hot Alabama summer all over again. He gazes at her silently, until her voice breaks his reverie.
Jennifer: So what’re you doing in Reading?
Johnny: Huh? Oh. Well, the pay-per-view – it’s a huge one. The WCF’s been in business for a whole decade. An’ it’s my honor to be defendin’ the tag titles with my partner tomorrow night.
Jennifer: Ten years… Well, this can’t be a coincidence, Johnny. Ten years since your wrestling promotion opened its doors. Ten years since we met. It’s significant.
Johnny glances at her, one eyebrow raised.
Johnny: You really think so?
She nods slowly and takes a sip of her appletini. Her hand finds its way along the bar; her fingers rest lightly on the back of his hand. Johnny feels a mild jolt where her fingers touch his skin.
Jennifer: Uh-huh. In numerology, the number ten is very, very powerful.
Reb chuckles softly; he never really believed in that stuff, not seriously. But, he is forced to admit to himself, it’s awfully coincidental that a woman he hasn’t seen in so long comes back into his life, seemingly out of the blue.
Johnny: Then maybe you oughta come to the show.
He’s only half kidding. He wants her there; that much is clear to anyone with the eyes to see. A smile toys with her lips, and her eyes take on a slightly predatory gleam.
Jennifer: I’d like that, Johnny. But for now, what d’ya say we go get… reacquainted… someplace a little more private?
Surprised at the suddenness of the invitation, nevertheless, Johnny doesn’t wait to be asked a second time. He grins at her and slips off the barstool, killing his own drink in a single swallow. Throwing some cash on the bar to cover their beverages, he extends a hand to her and assists her from her seat. Arm in arm, the two of them quit the bar for a much more intimate setting…
Woman: Johnathan! My, my…how you have grown!
Reb is taken by surprise; no one has called him “Johnathan” in years. It’s his turn to regard the woman carefully, as if to ensure he isn’t hallucinating.
Johnny: Mrs. Robinson?
She laughs lightly.
Woman: Call me Jennifer. I haven’t been Mrs. Robinson in a long time.
Johnny’s brow furrows, and she’s quick to offer him a reassuring smile.
Jennifer: It’s ok, Johnathan…
Johnny: You ain’t changed a bit, Mrs. – er, Jennifer. You’re as pretty as the last time I saw you.
He hesitates, then gives her a roguish grin as he takes a seat beside her at the bar.
Johnny: …maybe prettier. So tell me: how’ve you been?
Another drink is brought to Johnny as the woman elaborates on her newfound freedom following the divorce, her return to college, and her subsequent career as an executive for a Fortune 500 company. He hangs on her every word, her voice bringing back memories of his adolescent infatuation. When she finishes, he fills her in on his own life and career.
Jennifer: Well, that does explain this rather ostentatious accoutrement you’ve been lugging around all evening. I always had faith in you, Johnny.
Reb fairly glows under the woman’s praise, feeling, more or less, like he’s sixteen again. She looks the same now as then, her face still untouched by age; her figure, perhaps a little slimmer than before. For a moment, the cold outside is forgotten; for him, it’s that hot Alabama summer all over again. He gazes at her silently, until her voice breaks his reverie.
Jennifer: So what’re you doing in Reading?
Johnny: Huh? Oh. Well, the pay-per-view – it’s a huge one. The WCF’s been in business for a whole decade. An’ it’s my honor to be defendin’ the tag titles with my partner tomorrow night.
Jennifer: Ten years… Well, this can’t be a coincidence, Johnny. Ten years since your wrestling promotion opened its doors. Ten years since we met. It’s significant.
Johnny glances at her, one eyebrow raised.
Johnny: You really think so?
She nods slowly and takes a sip of her appletini. Her hand finds its way along the bar; her fingers rest lightly on the back of his hand. Johnny feels a mild jolt where her fingers touch his skin.
Jennifer: Uh-huh. In numerology, the number ten is very, very powerful.
Reb chuckles softly; he never really believed in that stuff, not seriously. But, he is forced to admit to himself, it’s awfully coincidental that a woman he hasn’t seen in so long comes back into his life, seemingly out of the blue.
Johnny: Then maybe you oughta come to the show.
He’s only half kidding. He wants her there; that much is clear to anyone with the eyes to see. A smile toys with her lips, and her eyes take on a slightly predatory gleam.
Jennifer: I’d like that, Johnny. But for now, what d’ya say we go get… reacquainted… someplace a little more private?
Surprised at the suddenness of the invitation, nevertheless, Johnny doesn’t wait to be asked a second time. He grins at her and slips off the barstool, killing his own drink in a single swallow. Throwing some cash on the bar to cover their beverages, he extends a hand to her and assists her from her seat. Arm in arm, the two of them quit the bar for a much more intimate setting…