Diane sat stirring her strawberry margarita with her straw. She hated the thin, delicate glasses most bars used to serve margaritas so she and Mark, the bartender, made a pact when he first started working at The Bar. He served her margaritas in a sixteen-ounce beer glass and she paid him an extra dollar. It worked for both of them. Diane’s margaritas arrived in a decent sized glass and Mark put an extra dollar in his tip jar.

In Oakdale, The Bar, located in the same building for as long as anyone could remember, was where respectable people in this small community of 17,500 went after work for a tall, cool one. There was one other bar at the edge of town by the Wal-Mart shopping center, but no decent person admitted going there. The Club Nouveaux offered exotic dancers and seemed to do well in spite of the empty front parking lot. Everyone knew who visited Club Nouveaux and who didn’t since, with the exception of a few people like Diane, everyone had been born, raised and would probably die in Oakdale.

"So why do I get the pleasure of your company tonight?" Mark leaned over the bar to gaze into Diane’s eyes.

Diane returned his gaze, "I’m tired of sitting in my house watching TV with only my dog for company and I’m not inspired to surf the net tonight. So, I thought I’d come in here and watch the circus."

Mark pushed away from the bar. A customer at the other end was signaling for another drink. Diane occupied herself by surveying the room in the wall length mirror that ran behind the bottles on the bar counter. She could view the action without turning and looking interested. This hidden local bar was a smorgasbord of young bodies, male and female. Stopping into The Bar tonight reminded her how little the dating game had changed since she had been a willing participant. Two unsuccessful marriages and one very painful love affair convinced her not to fall in love again. She and Mark had dated at one point. They concluded during the middle of their first, and only, date the best thing they could do for each other was to become friends, so a great friendship had blossomed.

"This is for you," Mark placed another strawberry margarita in front of Diane.

"I didn’t order a second one yet. What’s this for?" Diane asked.

"I mixed up an order Tami gave me," Mark replied.

"Mark, you have the ears of a spy microphone and memory of a computer. You don’t make mistakes. What’s up?" Diane’s eyes narrowed as she peered warily at Mark.

"A nice guy at the end of the bar said you look like you could use this: no strings attached," Mark stepped backward.

"Mark, you’ve known me for what, three and a half years? When was the last time you saw me accepting a drink from someone I really don’t know?"

"Oh, come on, Diane. Lighten up! It wouldn’t kill you to accept one drink from a guy I’ll swear is a bona fide gentleman."

Diane glared, her mouth set in a thin line as she silently slid the drink toward him. "You can take the drink to the gentleman and give him his money back or not. I don’t care. I thought you knew me well enough to know I prefer to buy my own drinks; eliminates any obligations. I’m here to relax, not cruise for company so to avoid any further problems I’ll take off," Diane picked her purse off the bar and grabbed her jacket.

"Whoa! I’ve never seen you so stressed. What’s wrong?" Mark leaned against the back counter and crossed his arms.

Sitting down, Diane draped her jacket on the back of the barstool and dropped her purse onto the bar. She sighed heavily. "You’re right. It’s been more than one of those days. It seems like it’s been a week of those days wrapped up in one obnoxious package."

"It’s Timmy, isn’t it?" Mark scowled.

"Timothy."

"Whatever."

Diane smiled at the obvious disdain in Mark’s voice as he talked about her ex-husband.

"He’s decided since I did not immediately jump into another marriage, like he did, I must ‘have it real bad’ for him. He has no clue our divorce was the best part of our marriage. He sends flowers weekly, and calls once a day, every day of the week. I’ve threatened to call his new wife but he’s got her convinced I’m unstable because it was such an emotional shock for me when he ended our marriage. So, she calls to see how I’m doing. My mom didn’t keep track of me this much when I lived in Hawaii! It’s really beginning to wear on me. The man has an ego the size of T-Rex."

"And the brain to match. Why haven’t you sworn out a restraining order for stalking on the guy?" Mark asked.

Diane chuckled, "I tried. I called the Police station here in town and asked to speak with one of the deputies about my ex-husband. After several minutes of hemming and hawing, they switched me to a female officer. I explained how Timothy was calling and sending unwanted flowers and generally making life uncomfortable. She said ‘Whatcha complaining about? Most women would be happy to have a guy send ‘em flowers.’ I tried explaining what he was doing was stalking me. She snorted and replied, ‘Stalking! Honey, you been watchin’ too much TV. Around here the only thing that gets stalked is deer. Now, if you want a license to hunt deer, I can switch you to the license office but a restraining order cause your ex-husband is sending you flowers? Not gonna happen anytime soon.’ I hung up. I’ve just sort of dealt with him since then."

"Well, as I have often heard you say, ‘don’t take it out on the rest of us.’ The guy who bought you this drink doesn’t cause trouble, pays in cash and tips well. If you want to give the drink back--do it yourself," Mark said.

Mark walked away leaving Diane sputtering for a response. He began carrying on a conversation with a younger man that had captured Diane’s attention the moment he’d walked through the door. Alternately peering sideways at him through lowered eyes or quickly glancing in the mirror behind the bar, she guessed he must be a construction worker. His shirt did little to hide well-developed chest and arm muscles. Although he might be a gym rat, I doubt it. Those muscles undulate too easily and that tan, mmmm, doesn’t have the color of a lotion or tanning booth. Dark hair, light eyes--my kind of eye candy.

Justin glanced anxiously at Mark.

"Don’t worry," Mark leaned his lanky frame against the counter, "she’s just having a bad day. Got a genuine flake of an ex-husband who’s convinced she still loves him. Hell, he thinks every female he talks with falls in love with him. Guess he’s bordering on the edge of stalking lately. Their divorce has been final for two years but he won’t accept she’s moved on because she ‘didn’t jump into another marriage like I did.’ If you’re interested, really interested, have patience. Diane’s worth the wait."

"Then why haven’t you two…" Justin blushed letting the thought die. "Listen, I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business."

"You’re right. It is none of your business. But there’s no secret about it. We dated once and realized we didn’t want to ruin a good friendship. Diane’s like the sister I never had. She’s level headed, has no problem telling me when I’m being an ass and I do the same for her. I really think you two would get along. Let me try to talk to her again. You in a big hurry?" Mark nodded to the cocktail waitress waving to get his attention. "Gotta actually earn my pay. Be right back." He headed toward the waitress station.

Justin turned his glass of beer around with his fingertips. He’d been coming into this place for about seven years and hadn’t been attracted to most of the ladies who frequented The Bar. Diane’s confidence first grabbed his attention. Her poise and overall demeanor spoke to the fact she was probably older than most of the bar’s regular clientele. Justin smiled. I think confidence is as sexy as a great figure. He peered into his beer as though it were a crystal ball. The amber liquid was slightly cloudy and he couldn’t tell anything except he was getting close to needing another beer.

Diane slipped off her barstool and marched toward him. This is ridiculous. She shook her head slightly. He’s no different than any other man. The dive-bombing butterflies in her stomach threatened to destroy her bravado.