Out of Reach by Jocelyn Stover Page A

with her bedazzled jeans,
the simple top and her soft curls easily make her a ten on any
guy’s list. Rocking my signature black sequins and jeans, my hair
stands out like sun spun fire. I’ve loosely curled it and left it
down, knowing that partnered with my height the combo makes me hard
to miss.
    “Should we wait for him?” Melanie asks,
glancing up and down the street looking for Kade.
    Copying her movements I reply, “No, he’s
probably just looking for a place to park his bike.” Shrugging my
shoulders, I continue, “He knows where we are headed—he’ll find
us.”
    The Spotted Dog, a cheesy little bar, is our
destination tonight. It boasts everything from live concerts to
pay-per-view fights. This particular Friday night a local band I’ve
never heard of is playing. The place is quite spacious, with the
bar and its wrap around counter and cushy barstools dominating the
center of the room. Quiet, circular booths are stashed away in the
corners. Off to the left, where they usually put the stage for
concerts, is a small dance floor. The rest of the space is littered
with small tables, dispersed at odd intervals around the room.
While The Spotted Dog does serve easy grill-style items and we love
the ambiance, Melanie and I do not come here for that. In fact, we
always eat beforehand. Tonight we dined at a hole in the wall
Chinese restaurant we adore down the street. It was the find of a
century. Kade and I stumbled into it about a year ago after a long
day at work. We were both hungry, sick of burgers, and feeling a
little adventurous. They have, by far, the best eggrolls in town.
The three of us have passed many a Friday night in that little
piece of heaven.
    What keeps us coming back to The Spotted Dog
is the location. Or maybe I should say the clientele the location
attracts. You see, it’s a stone’s throw from one of the local fire
stations, and on Friday nights the boys from the firehouse usually
come by to play cards and eat. So naturally, on a Friday night The
Spotted Dog is every woman’s fantasy. Which helps explain why the
place is always packed.
    Melanie and I have developed a strategy for
our Friday nights here, a strategy that allows us to capitalize on
the eye candy while minimizing our interactions with the gaggle of
obnoxious women that are always parading around. Part one of our
strategy involves an early dinner at an alternate location. Thus we
avoid the potential embarrassment that can ensue when stuffing your
face in front of a hot guy, not to mention the rest of the crowd at
the bar. Part two involves getting in early so we can lay claim to
the best seating. While I normally prefer to sit at the bar, if
there’s a good band playing a booth by the stage can be fun. Since
our seating needs are completely dependent on the scheduled events
at the bar, Melanie keeps a close watch on their calendar.
    Tonight, since the band playing isn’t one
Melanie and I are familiar with, we make a beeline for our favorite
spot at the bar, the three stools by the left corner. What makes
this our favorite spot is the angled mirror that resides just below
the eve of the lighting cabinet that encircles the bar. It allows
you the freedom to scope out the tables and booths behind you with
just an upward glance. Since we know which bar real estate the
firemen always reserve for Friday nights, our favorite spot allows
us to drool over them without having to nonchalantly turn around
every few minutes. Since part two of our strategy involves getting
to the bar early enough to claim these seats, we utilize the mirror
for general people watching purposes until the firemen turn up.
This activity has led to hours of entertainment and many hilarious
bets between Melanie, Kade, and me. The best one I can remember was
the night a young blonde woman came back from the bathroom with the
bottom of her skirt tucked up into her underwear. We bet on how
long it would be before she noticed and who we thought would
eventually