Do you know that the first night I met Chili Palmer I cried myself to sleep? I'm not sure why. When I woke in the morning, though, I think I convinced myself of something that wasn't true. Upon looking back, I have to say, I think I cried because a part of me died that night.

I gave up a dream.

I knew then that it wasn't ever coming true. Maybe I'm better for burying it where it belongs ... down there with all the other dreams I never chased after.

So I called Chili that morning and asked him to take me shopping for new clothes. Remember the movie "Pretty Woman" and how the guy took the woman to that shop and he just sat there while she tried on clothes and he either smiled or looked puzzled so you knew which clothes she was getting by her being able to tell whether he liked them on her or not?

Well, it was kinda like that. 

Chili took me to this place that I'd never even stepped inside before. I told him I couldn't afford it ... he slid his sunglasses down his nose so I could see his eyes. He told me that a woman like me needed to get used to not worrying about paying for things like her wardrobe. If I hadn't been in a rather pathetic mood, I believe I would have done more than just let him drag me inside.

We were expected, see? He'd called ahead. He'd said exactly the kind of clothes he wanted to see and he'd even guessed my size pretty good. But unlike the man in Pretty Woman, Chili didn't really smile or anything at me when I'd come out wearing something. He'd say things like, stop squirming ... or stop trying to pull that down ... or stop trying to pull that up ... or, no, it is not too tight ... or yes, you can walk in those. And the only way I knew he was buying something was that he'd kind of nod at the owner while I was chewing on my lip and looking at this mirror that showed three sides of me at once.

Oddest thing of all was that by about the fifth outfit, I began to see his pattern. The clothes were most often pretty form-fitting ... but they didn't bind or gap or gape. Where I might have thought, just looking at them on a rack, that they'd shove my body parts out on display with this big neon sign saying, "HEY! She's got boobs and an ass!" instead, once I had them on, I realized that they caressed the parts of me that men were going to look at anyway but they sort of framed them with a confident sexuality that announced in a husky Marlene-voice, "You can try but, if you do, you better be man enough or you won't survive."

He even bought me new jeans. He said a woman in the right pair of jeans can really get to a man. He said he's not sure why that is, but it's the truth and that every woman needs to have at least one pair of jeans that can make her seem a little dangerous.

After lunch, he announced he was taking me to a day spa for a makeover. Chili escorted me inside like he owned the place and knowing him, he was probably on his way to it with how familiar he seemed with the operation. The women in there all sighed when they saw Chili come in. I don't know that I've ever seen so many women with goofy grins on their faces.

He turned me over to this woman name Maribesque who told me she was from Tunisia ... and I'm thinking, "Tunisia?" but Chili ignored my panicked eyes at him. He told her ... and I quote ... "You know what to do. I'll be doing some business in the office if she gives you any trouble." He told me, and I quote, "Be good. Have fun."

Three hours later, I walked out looking like ... like ... well, damn. I barely recognized myself. Hair, nails, makeup, skin ... he must have spent a fortune. You know what I mean? Yeah, that look that costs so much money and probably costs that much because it looks so natural and unaffected, like you just wake up looking like that. Refined, elegant look, with just the most wonderful hair that has that hint of just-out-of-the-boudoir.

So that this 'look' wouldn't go to waste, I invited Chili to a friend's art gallery opening that night. I wore the jeans along with these cowboy boots that he'd bought me just because he thought they made me walk sexier. If by sexier he meant aware of each sway of my ass, he was right. But the best part was that I had actually learned enough from our shopping expedition to have gained the confidence to wear one of the pieces tucked way in the back of my closet. It was like only now did I finally 'get' why some guy had bought me those pieces of clothing that I'd never had the guts to wear. It's because by then, he would see a certain shirt or dress hanging on a mannequin in some toity shop ... and he'd think to himself, "I'd like to see Ann in that ... damn."

Whereas, when I would try them on after he'd leave me, I'd blush and think, "What was he thinking! What a nutter!" even though I adored that he got them for me.

Why are women like that? Or am I the only one?

So how much did it say that after all this time, I was wearing this blouse? It said that I got Chili's lesson ... that there is a difference between classy and slutty. Both can be sexy ... but my style was going to be classy.

When I came out, I did a slow pirouette and loved the gleam in his eye ... like I was a prize pupil. Like he just had known he'd get me this far. He only made one minor adjustment ... Chili unbuttoned one more button than I'd been willing to dare but when he did it, I looked down and realized he was right. He asked me, when he was helping me on with my coat, did I now feel more comfortable showing that much cleavage and showing off my form.

"With you around? Yeah."

"And that's less than 48 hours with me. Before long, you'll be secure enough to be on your own."

"On my own? Chili? You're not going to desert me now, are you?"

He tilted his head down at me, held out his arm for me. "When you're ready to be out there on your own, I won't hold you back, Ann."

"You made me a promise."

"You made me one, too."

"Yeah? Oh ... you mean the Pub? Well, I'll give you the address."

He gave me this little sigh then guided me out of my apartment by the elbow. It's kind of a courtly gesture, the way he does that. I thought about this when he left the elevator and without any hesitation, so smooth, he just took my elbow to escort me to my car. He does that like it's second nature to him.

I bet it is. I bet his mom taught him that. Or, knowing Chili, he saw some cool movie star do it when he was sitting in a dark theatre, all of 13, and learning what it meant to be a man from a combination of street justice, his old man and the kinds of role models he'd get in old films his mom liked. I don't know why I got that insight into Chili Palmer ... why it was the elbow thing.

It's like this thing about men I respect that's always fascinated me ... how they learn to become men and the little gestures they do that show the lessons that became so ingrained in them that they do it by habit.

Like Chili taking my elbow and watching over me like he owned the space around me so no one better come near without his permission. Like how Jack always rises when a lady approaches his booth to sit with him for a drink. Like how John Biebe always takes his hat off outside when he's saying 'hello' to a woman. Like how Terry guides you with his palm on your lower back and how he pays attention to everything going on around you so he can be ready for anything that may harm you in any way, shape or form.

Like how Dino calls you 'honey' with that certain sweet timbre in his voice that makes you know you could tell him anything and he will hold it safe forever. Like how Max looks you in the eye and gives that little bow when you first see him. Like how Egan always puts a hand on your hip to move you over so he will be the one walking on the side of the street closest to traffic. Like how Cort always holds a hand out in front of you at an intersection to make sure you don't step off the curb just in case a car is coming that you don't see.

See, I don't know why it is those little things they do that tells me who's a real man and who's not. I don't know why it's not things like whether or not they can whip someone's ass or if they have a big gun or if they have a lot of power.

But it's those tiny things that tell me more about what a man's made of ... and I think it's because you can tell they're habits culled from a lifetime of being stand-up men.

Course, the other thing about being a man is that ... well ... they can be tough to get along with all the time. I mean, they can just be such men, can't they?

Like in this instance, I'm feeling all mellow about Chili and his treating me so decent. And then on the drive home from the art show opening where we'd mingled and had the absolute best time riffing on some of the art we saw ... and the whole time we were there, I felt how much fun being with him could be because he was so different from anyone I knew and he was also capable of being both a huge flatterer and a man who'd give it to me with both barrels when he thought he should.

Not that I exactly like getting the double-barrel shot of him telling me all about how "my problem with men" was that I was always doing the chasing and then as soon as it looked like they were really interested, I'd back away. And how, he said, I was always making excuses for myself as if I was never good enough.

He said that last bit when we were standing in this corner and he'd been drilling me about various of the men at the Pub ... and he just pronounced "my problem with men" like I'd ever asked him for his opinion on me. And then I made some smartass remarks about how a few other people over there at the Pub were not quite that perfect either ... and as soon as I said this one thing about ... er ... about Uma ... well, I heard what I'd said and thought, "Oh, man, she'd kill me if she knew I'd said that to anyone."

So ... "my problem with men" ... hah! I made some crack about my problem with men was that I was dealing with men ...

And he said, "Don't you want to just walk in there some night and own the place?"

And I said, "Own what place?" as I waved my empty Cosmopolitan glass at him.

"The Pub," he said, taking my glass and returning about five minutes later with one that held liquor.

"What did you mean by that?" I asked him.

"I mean, don't you ever want to have the satisfaction of one night where you're just saying all the right things, making all the right moves, leaving all the right impressions ... giving all the right looks? That's what I mean."

It gave me pause. I was looking right in his eyes. He looked at me so matter of fact. Like he saw within me the capability of really doing that. "Do you have any idea what that kind of night would be for me?"

"Describe it for me."

I took this long sip of my Cosmo. I grinned at him over the rim. "Well, first off, I'd be dressed in a way that would make him go 'unhhh.' Remember telling me that?"

He looked me up and down as he gave me this tiny nod. "That's how you're looking tonight, Ann."

"Second off, I'd be cool. I'd not care one damned bit if he even noticed me because I'd know he would. But I still wouldn't care."

"He always notices you. Don't kid yourself. But looking like you are? Now it's more than notice. Now it's a case of wishing he was the man with you instead of whatever man you're with."

"I don't want him to be jealous of another man. That's not my thing."

"No, I can see that. What is then?"

I shook my head and felt this strange mix of emotions in this big knot in my throat. "I want him to just realize that I'm worthy of him. God, I know, Chili. I know that sounds pathetic. But it's not. Not if you knew him. He's just ... he just deserves so much, you know?"

"And he deserves better than you?"

"Yeah. In a nutshell." I looked down at my boots. "He deserves to be happy. I want him to be happy. And I think he is. That's the shitty thing about this. I truly think he's happy. He's in love with someone else, someone I think is great for him ... and I think she's in love with him ... and, even if she wasn't in his life, he wouldn't be in love with me. Because, to him, we're just friends. Does that make sense?"

"You wanna know what I think?"

"You're gonna tell me one way or the other so go on ..."

"I think it's pathetic to be willing to just blend into the background if you're in love with someone. Now, me, I want something, I go get it."

"Um ... it might not be what you think ..." So I told him some things I'd never actually told anyone ... and in the midst of telling him the who, what, when, etc., I realized he'd wormed out of me not only that I really was in love but with whom.

"Okay, here's what we do ..."

He leaned in when he said this, and he got the cutest light in his eyes. It was kind of a twinkle and right there, seeing it, I didn't hold it against him that he's still thinking he knows everything and I know nothing. Because the thing is ... within about a half hour, he about had me convinced that he maybe really did know everything and I maybe really did know nothing.

How does he do that?

"You'll walk in there ... on my arm ... they'll say, 'who is this guy?' You don't say more than you have to. You don't introduce me. You don't act like it's anything out of the ordinary for me to be there with you. It's got to be as if it's accepted right from the start ... that I belong. And you're the one's telling them I belong because you're acting like it's a done deal. See?"

"No."

"Ann, come on. You remember the movie?" I nodded my head. But I was confused. "I'm not gonna say any more than I have to, if that. They need to be off their stride, dealing with me, see? All the time they're figuring out who and what I am, I'm making them nervous, taking them off their game."

"You mean the men?" He nodded. I grinned. "You don't know these men."

"Believe me, I know them a whole lot better than you do," he said softly, but in this way that you just knew he did and there was so much subtext there.

"You're not going to knock them off their game. Well, maybe some of them ..."

"Yes. I will. If you do your part."

"All I gotta do is not introduce you?"

"That and ..."

"And?"

"And we act close. As in, close. Capice?"

"Capice? What is this? The Godfather? Chili! You mean they have to believe we're 'doing it'? No way."

"It has to be understated. I don't mean you paw me or I hang all over you. I mean we're like we are now ... talking, involved ... like we got something going on between us."

"And how's this accomplish our goals?"

"You'll see." He said it so smug. So certain. "So when we go there, to the Pub, I mean ... you let me worry about making sure that the man you're interested in sees what he's needing to see. Later on ... after we're there a few times and he sees I'm staying around ... then I'll show you how to make him come chasing you. And it won't be anything cheap like him and me coming to blows. Though I might enjoy taking him down."

"I don't want that. You'd never survive."

His eyebrows shot up. He didn't say anything ... but finally he gave me a little nod, looked around and his body language said he was ready to go. So when he leaned in and asked me if I'd like to go dancing with him, maybe have a nightcap before he took me home, I figured ... yeah ... because ... because why not?

So we were in the car, right? And he's drumming his fingers real light on the steering wheel in time to a soft beat on the radio. And he was talking to me about going around looking for a house with a real estate agent the next day and how he hoped I'd maybe come along with him so he could have a woman's opinion ... and this was when I realized ...

Chili and me? It's funny. We were friends already. Him coming into my life, making me take another look, giving me the idea that maybe I didn't have to settle for eating my heart out ...

"Hey!"

"What?" he said, looking over at me, very nonchalant.

I narrowed my eyes at him and gave him the look. "I thought we were going dancing."

"And for a nightcap." He looked back at the road and turned into a parking lot. "And we are."

"Not here, Chili!"

"Why not?"

"Not tonight! I'm not ready ... and I'm not dressed right ... and ... and ..."

"And?"

"Chili!"

He dragged me out of the car and toward the Pub's door. I braced my hands at the side of the building and refused to budge. He put his mouth right on my ear and said, low and soft but very serious, "You are going in there with me tonight. Now, how you go in, that's up to you. You want me carrying you in there looking like the pathetic woman you think you are to them? Or you want to walk in there like the incredible woman you really are?"

"I'm dressed all wrong, Chili. Please!" I was whining at him but I was already resigned ... I fumbled to start buttoning up the top of my shirt.

He took my hands in his. The buttons stayed open. I looked up in his eyes. "You, Ann, are dressed perfect. You look ... well, let me just be the first to say it ... you could have any man you wanted."

"I don't want just any man."

"This is how it starts." When my body sagged into his, he kissed in at my temple. "Now, just remember. Don't introduce me."

We stood out there for a while. Until my knees stopped knocking. Until I stopped seeing images of this man I feared was inside there ... until I stopped seeing him seeing me walking in there looking like this ... until I stopped seeing him writing me off ... until I started hoping that maybe Chili was right about him taking another look and seeing maybe he never knew me before ... until I began to believe in what Chili said ... that I was that woman who was just so damned fine and dandy. That it didn't matter that I was all wrong for him and it would never work out between us ... and that I'd spend the rest of my days being happy for him that he was in love with someone else while being sorry for myself that I'd never find another man who could hold a candle to him.

I could hear the pulse of the jukebox. I could hear soft laughter. I could hear clinking glasses. Inside there ... it seemed to me that everyone inside there belonged to a fraternity that I'd never belonged to. They all seemed to not have noticed that about me. I really think they figured I was happy always being on the outside looking in. I think they had me pegged as someone who was happier alone. I think they figured if I wanted more, I'd have made a stab at it.

So there I was ... making a stab.

By the time Chili opened the door for me, I was walking chin down, breasts high, heels clicking. I was walking slow, deliberate and on his arm when we actually entered.

He was talking to me, low and sweet. He was looking around; I was looking at him.

I don't think we made much of a stir. At first.

Then again, no one really said too much to me at first. Just nods and smiles and little waves. But they were eyeing Chili and trying hard to figure out who he was. And why I'd brought a strange man in there.

He steered me to the bar. I sat on a stool; he stood next to me, one hand in his pocket, the other resting on the bar top. He ordered our drinks from Andy and while we sipped, Chili leaned in close and talked softly to me. His hand on the bar slid over to my arm and he just rubbed on it ... possessively. Casually.

Before long, Uma leaned across the bar to find out if we wanted refills. She asked me how it was going and kept glancing between me and Chili. I told her things were going great ... she said I looked it ... and I grinned at Chili before shrugging my shoulders at Uma.

Ah.

Mystery.

That's the element.

Chili was a mystery ... and keeping that aura of mystery around him was like a magnet. When we were alone again, he'd lean in and describe one of the men and ask me who he was. I'd tell him ... he'd say things like "He's trying to figure out who I am to you" or "He wants to know why you'd bring me in here" or "He doesn't like the way I'm touching you" or "He doesn't like the way his woman's eyeing me" or "She likes me."

She likes me, he said ... and I followed his eyes ... to Uma, down at the other end of the bar, chatting. I shook my head at Chili. Told him he didn't stand a chance. He gave me that look. Then excused himself to go to the men's room.

I watched other people watching him walk over there. 

Dino sipped a scotch and just half-smiled at him ... as in 'cool appreciates cool', I thought to myself. Arthur watched wide-eyed and puzzled while Angharad simply studied him openly. Maximus happened to be walking toward the bar as Chili was walking away; their paths crossed ... I noticed Chili give Max a look; but Max fixed him with his own look and I wasn't sure it would have been possible for one look to convey contempt, suspicion and warning but Max proved me wrong.

Bud and John kind of half-sneered at Chili and then looked at each other. I wondered if all cops have some kind of instinct. I glanced over at Zack; his eyes met mine and I read a question in there.

Johnny, East, Colin and Dom glanced up from their card game and then kind of whispered to each other ... but their looks were not quite so hostile ... even Johnny seemed curious more than anything else.

"You look nice tonight," Terry said to me.

I hadn't even heard him approach; I had to turn around to see him sitting on the stool next to me. His eyes darted from mine to the direction where Chili must have been entering the men's room ... and then he looked back at me, giving me the once over.

"You do as well," I said.

"Cute." He gave me that sour lemon look and sipped at his beer. I felt like a bitch. Without looking at me, he said, "It's nice to see you wearing that."

Did I ever really think Terry would not have remembered giving this blouse to me? "You have good taste ... I was just always chicken shit before."

His eyes slid over to me and he breathed in deeply before saying, "Haven't seen you around here much lately. Is he the reason?"

"Yeah. I guess." Well, that was easy. Chili was right ... don't give anything away ... keep up the mystery, eh?

"You're doing okay though?"

I swallowed on what I felt like saying, which was, 'and since when did you give a fuck lately about how the hell I was doing once you stopped calling and couldn't even be bothered with just telling me straight up that we were no longer seeing each other?' Instead, I said, "I'm doing great. And how about you? You look happy."

He grinned at me ... real brief ... like I'd diverted him from his planned path of conversation ... and he liked that it showed on him that he was feeling happy in life but he also didn't really like that I had used my insight of him to divert him from reaching whatever goal he had in mind for this conversation with me. But the grin pleased me ... I would eventually deal with the way his rejection had hurt but it would be only possible if he didn't realize how I felt. I do have my pride, after all. Well, sometimes. But you know, the thing about Terry is that even when he's being dense, he's still astute.

"I don't really like his looks. He from around here?"

"Well, you're not with him so I guess it doesn't matter if you like his looks or not," I said evenly. Our eyes met. "He's new to the area."

"How'd you meet him? He doesn't seem your type."

"No? And what is my type?"

"Dunno, love ... or maybe I do know, right? Maybe I know you. Well enough to know that look in your eyes." I didn't say anything; just continued to stare into Terry's eyes and try to blank my own mind out. He finally pursed his lips, shook his head and said, "I don't trust him."

"You don't know him."

"Know his type, love. That's more than enough."

I felt another body slide in on my other side and knew Chili was back with us. Knew he'd heard that last remark from Terry. Knew Terry probably knew it, too.

When Chili slid his arm around my waist, Terry's eyes narrowed at him. Chili said, real deep but soft, "You should learn not to make snap judgments."

"Who the hell are you?" Terry asked him, his voice not so soft but just as deep.

"I'm the one telling you how it is."

"Yeah? And you think I give a shit?"

There was an uncomfortable silence. I felt the tension between these two crackle in the air. I watched as Uma approached us, knowing she was going to come in, divert attention by offering refills, maybe say something funny and smart ... but in a flash, I got this appreciation of what was going on.

Of course it would be Terrence Thorne of all the men in there to overtly challenge Chili Palmer's arrival in the Pub milieu. Of course it would be Terry who'd not just recognize the new cock of the walk ... but who'd never let it happen without a struggle. Of course it would be Terry thinking he had the right to keep men he didn't approve of out of the lives of any of the women he felt protective of. Of course it'd be Terry who never imagined he didn't have the duty to do that.

Of course it'd be Terry who'd take it as a challenge that Chili was around. It was like this unspoken thing men know about each other ... Terry, and I imagine most of the other men in there, recognized that Chili was a formidable man in his own right and may just be a real force they'd have to reckon with now.

Besides, men don't ever really like seeing a woman they had once claimed as a lover when she's in the presence of another man they think might now be her lover ... even when they no longer want her as a lover ... even then, they just have this territorial thing about 'their women' that lingers long after the woman can no longer count on that claim.

When that realization hit me, I shifted in the hostile air and looked to find him. Him. To see if he had any reaction I could read. To see if he even cared enough to feel some instinctive wish to re-claim his territory. To see if Chili was right ... if he maybe did notice me when I thought he never did anymore because he was in love with the right woman.

But his eyes were down, on his drink.

Besides, he wasn't alone. And I could see the traces of a sweet smile on his lips. The wave of disappointment about drowned me until I got a flash of sad inspiration ... if I loved him, why would I want to fuck things up for him?

I shifted back and met Uma's eyes. But she glanced from me to Chili and I saw the way she ran her hand through her hair, tucking it behind an ear ... making an unconscious adjustment in her bearing in response to Chili's gaze, which I knew from her reaction was on her with that intensity he gets ... I just knew, he was giving her 'the other look', the one women responded to without guile or artifice.

Terry saw that, too. I know he did because when I looked at him, he was looking between Uma and Chili and his lip kind of sneered. Like he'd just eaten something he disliked.

"Don't believe I caught your name, mate," Terry said, his voice low and brusque.

Chili took a while to stop looking at Uma. When he did, he shifted to look at Terry full on. He gave Terry the look. I don't know that it really impressed Terry so much as it made an impression on him. That anyone would give Terry the look with such ease and self-assurance? That would make an impression.

And then Terry very deliberately slid his eyes to mine; crooked an eyebrow ... asking me the question without asking it. Just using a specific look to tell me the time for choosing sides was now ... was I with him or with Chili when it came to this battle of wills between them?

Damn. He's good. He knew that would make me uncomfortable. He knows how I feel about loyalty.

"Er ... this is ... um ... this is my associate," I stammered. I thought I could hear Chili's arteries closing down as he must have known I was about to do the one thing he didn't want me to do.

"Your associate?" Terry asked me. "What does that mean? Does he have a name? Or do you even know it yet?"

"Chili." I cleared my throat. "I'd like you both to meet Chili Palmer."

"Chili?" Terry snorted and grinned at Uma. She kind of smiled but she also bit her lip. "Chili Palmer, eh? It's chilly outside and it's Chili inside. It's a regular fuckin' chili-fest!"

I looked at Chili. He had this smile on his face. It was soft, all man, and in control. He asked me to dance. As we left, he bumped into Terry's arm just as Terry was getting ready to sip his ale. It wasn't a bad spill, I suppose, but it did seem to me that most of the beer landed in Terry's lap ...

You could hear Terry's teeth grind if you were listening close enough, I bet. I wasn't. I was too busy not seeing or hearing anything. On the dance floor, I just let Chili turn me into him and he stepped into the dance.

"I promised I'd take you dancing," he whispered to me. I just nodded against his shoulder. His arm tightened on me. "Maybe I wasn't clear but I thought I told you to keep quiet."

"I couldn't help it. Chili, he asked ..."

"That was the point, Ann. The element of him not knowing is what I needed."

"Yeah, but he's Terry ... I'm not going to just be rude to him."

"Sure, Ann. I know. It's okay. I'll deal with it."

"Does he scare you?"

He spun me out from him ... gave me this grin that didn't hide how that question had challenged him ... and then spun me right back up to him. This time, his hold on me felt like a cocoon ... from the way his cheek was next to mine, to the way his hand was wrapped around mine and drawn up tight between us, to the way his other hand on the flat of my back had slid down to the upper slope of my derriere, even to the way he kind of hunched over me because he was a lot taller than me.

"He doesn't scare me. But I don't like him. He's an ass."

I giggled ... his response was to let his hand on my ass slip further down until I looked up in his eyes. "He doesn't like you either. I imagine you'll find he's a lot more formidable than any one else you've dealt with."

Chili gave me a shrug and then let the hand on my ass slide up to caress my back. I snuggled into his hold a little more; my forehead sunk into his neck and I just enjoyed the feel of dancing with a man who knew how to dance and wasn't trying to use it as an excuse to feel me up. I felt his breath on my ear just before he whispered, "They're watching us."

"Well, after that exchange with Terry ... I imagine they're all about ready to kick my ass for bringing you in here."

"Not all of them. Besides, the women are intrigued ... women love a man of mystery who can command this kind of gut reaction from their men."

"Which is only going to piss the men off more."

"Well, the ones who have women in here or the ones with their eyes on women in here might not like the entry of another strong player. But the others? They're going to enjoy me shaking things up, taking over."

"Chili, don't ... I mean, this has always been a friendly joint."

"I'm friendly. When have you ever known me to not be friendly?" When I didn't say anything, he gave me this light kiss on my temple and I tried to pull away. "Hey now. Trust me, okay? You want to learn from me tonight. I'm helping you attain your goal. You don't think he's not looking at you ... wondering who I am ... feeling competitive that I've taken someone he maybe thought was going to wait around forever on him?"

"It's not like that with him and you know it."

"It's like that. I know men better than you ever will. I know his type. You wanted him to notice you, to think maybe he never knew you, to wonder if he maybe missed the boat ... to come after you eventually ... right?"

I didn't know anymore. I honestly don't know if I ever did. But when Chili said that, I turned my head from his neck and kind of peeked around his shoulders to take in a covert look at what the others in that pub were doing as we danced alone on the small wooden area before the jukebox. It wasn't as if everything had stopped and everyone was just staring ... but they did glance our way a lot ... the women curious, the men put out, the boys amused.

And then Chili turned to the beat of the music and I could see over to the section of the bar where he was and then I saw him ... Him. Him. Him. My heart kind of leapt up ... but then his face turned and he looked right in my eyes. I'd never seen that look on him before ... I wondered if he meant for me to see it ... it was this combination of anger, longing and confusion.

But ... I was real clear-eyed that night suddenly ... because no matter what I might have wanted to read in his eyes ... the one thing that I couldn't avoid seeing was that he wasn't alone.

But I was.

He just didn't know it.

I was so glad he didn't. I was so glad none of them knew how I really felt.