By Liz Tracy
By David Rolland
By Alex Rendon
By Terrence McCoy
By Natalya Jones
By County Grind
By Liz Tracy
By Chris Joseph
Finally, Joe had one hit dead center, and the two men shook hands.
"I was lucky," said the apparent winner. "He beat me in the last four games."
"I was almost a pitcher for the Yankees," said Paul, who wore reading glasses on his face and sunglasses propped up on his head.
"I'm better at shuffleboard," Joe admitted.
"I almost went pro at shuffleboard," Paul said.
Joe and I turned toward him skeptically.
"OK, that's bullshit," he said, grinning.
"Well, can you at least tell me the truth about what you two are doing here tonight?" I asked.
"I'm up here with my girlfriend — who I'm currently neglecting for this dartboard," Paul said. "I actually met her at this bar, and we've been together eight years."
"I'm here because my daughter works here," said Joe, gesturing at a pretty, petite bartender. "This isn't my place normally, but I like to stop by for a few beers and see her. She's my whole world."
"What a good daddy you are," I said.
"You're a pretty girl," he said. "You should really go after what you want in life."
Clearly, he doesn't know that being pretty is gonna get me everything I want in life.
"And you shouldn't just hook up with just any guy who has muscles," he continued. "He'll get into your pants, and will he call you?"
"Yes?" I said hopefully.
"Wrong!" Joe said. "And you don't need that. My daughter's going through a divorce. I don't mean to be an asshole, but do what you want to do. Don't let a guy get in the way."
London Fog: I went back outside, considering his (good) advice and preparing to depart. I paused in the middle of that delightfully cool patio area for a few final seconds before making the sweaty journey back to my car.
"This patio is awesome," I said to two women sitting at a picnic bench-like table.
"Perfect temperature," said Dorothy, who had long black hair with subtle shocks of gray. "It's a great place to sit and smoke."
Her companion, Elaine, petite with streaked blond hair, shivered and zipped up her little black sweater. A sweater? In Florida? You read that right, kids.
"Actually," Elaine said, "it can get kind of chilly out here."