Page 24 of Misadventures And Ms. Demeanor

We were lucky to get a spare lane, the place hopping with league games. The sound of pins being knocked down and heavy metal rock music filled the air along with a large cloud of cigarette smoke. The place was total vintage. The only thing that had been updated since 1965 was the game computers that didthe scoring math for you. Young and old wore ridiculously bad shirts with team names like Holy Rollers and Dolls with Balls across the front. I sat and put on my rental shoes as JT got us some beers from the bar.

"I hope you like light beer," he said as he placed two plastic cups filled with beer and foam on the table above our lane. "We might need a few more to make it through the night."

Thinking of the snoring, I had to agree. I was definitely buzzed by Esther's liberal helpings of mystery drinks and grinned as I remembered the stupid rhyme from college:Beer before liquor, never felt sicker. Liquor before beer, you're in the clear.At least I wouldn’t be hungover. "Great idea."

After JT traded his shoes for the rentals, I ogled his broad shoulders and back muscles flexing beneath his t-shirt as he bent down to put them on.

"Want to tell me what Goldie's got on you?"

He glanced up from his crouch as he tied a shoelace, eyes devoid of emotion. "What do you mean?"

I went over and picked out a ball from the rack, tested the weight, the space of the finger holes. "Come on, she's got something about you at Sturgis. You wouldn't be here otherwise."

He gave his shoulders a little shrug. "So?"

"So I want to know what it is."

"Nosy, are we?" His mouth quirked up at the corner. Somehow, he didn't seem as tense as a moment ago.

I found the ball I wanted to use; a bright blue covered in silver sparkles. I placed it in the ball return. "What happens in Hardin, stays in Hardin."

He stood to his full height, went to find his own ball. "All right. You heard about Bob, the guy who's going to fix my bike."

I looked down at the linoleum tiles at my feet. "Yeah, about that?—"

"I've had too much to drink to be pissed at the moment about the bike."

"Oh."

"Bob, the mechanic, fixed me up and I was going to miss out."

The liquor I'd drank felt sour in my stomach. I took a step back, realizing I was out of my element. Of course, he had a girl lined up. He wasn't hard on the eyes—even the older ladies in the lane beside ours couldn't keep from ogling him. If he broke bowling etiquette and veered into their lane, I might never see him again.

"That'sallGoldie has on you? A blind date?"

He didn't say anything, just placed a red ball next to mine. The group in the lane next to ours broke out in shouts of "Turkey, turkey!" I had no idea what it meant, but they obviously did and it appeared to be a good thing.

"All I'm going to share," he responded. There was a story there, the journalist in me could see it, but it didn't seem like I was going to get it out of him, even with liquor.

"You should feel lucky then, a blind date's nothing. My friend Violet wrote a romance book and Goldie knew about it and published it behind her back."

He frowned. "So? Sounds like she was helping."

"Goldie gave her the pen name Cherry Bottoms."

His mouth fell open. "Oh shit."

"When her daughter-in-law started dating again—her husband died—Goldie sent the man a box of sex toys and condoms."

The corner of his mouth ticked up. "What's she got on you?"

"Nothing. I'm not in town enough."

"That's right, Silky. Your job keeps you away."

"At least I don't have to be fixed up on a blind date," I countered, bitterness lacing every word. I couldn't even keepRoger, the philandering computer guy. He never once said I looked like Silky Tangles.

"The blind date's name is Sarah. She's a dentist from Denver looking to settle down, not some guy named Benny from the Trekker Truck Stop with a DVD player."