Words composed in a pop-culture reference.

You and Taylor huddled over the bar shooting the shit until Joanne emerged from the kitchen carrying your meal.

Joanne in addition to being the only sensible person working at Murphy’s was a close friend and the long-time girlfriend of your bud Jace.

She like any rational women was initially annoyed by your endless antics, but once Stockholm syndrome set in the two of you became fast friends.

“Hey you”

Joanne called out in your typical greeting.

“Hey you to you too”

You answered in the typical response.

Joanne slid the full plate in between you and Taylor.

“So the fish and chips?”

“Don’t you start giving me shit too!”

“Only always, just saying it’s atypical for you.” Joanne replied in a monotonous tone.

Taylor immediately chimed in

“He’s also changing his underwear more than once a week now too!”

“Gross I didn’t need to know that.”

“Don’t talk gross to me Ms. Angry Dragon.”

Taylor snorted as Joanne scowled at you.

“I swear you and Jace need a lesson on boundaries.”

“Hey he hasn’t given me your safe word yet so there’s that!”

Joanne scowled as you chuckled.

“I’m going to **** both of you.”

This was of course followed up by a swift punch in the arm from Joanne.

Although Joanne was only 5’4 and 105lbs soaking wet she still packed quite a wallop.

“Ow”

You groaned rubbing your sore arm.

“You deserved it.”

Before you could retort, you received another blow to the arm this time courtesy of your loving sister.

“What the hell!”

“Joanne said you deserved it.”

Picking up your plate you migrated to the very end of the bar.

“I’m staying the hell away from both you banshees.”

“Careful boy-o Taylor is still lethal from a distance especially with a bottle of Tito’s.”

Spotting Taylor toss up an amber beer bottle you ducked.

Catching it, she grinned watching you flinch.

“Alright lasses leave the poor boy alone.”

The pair rolled their eyes and returned to work.

“You’ve got quite a way with the ladies lad. Just a tip though, save the pissing em off till after ya bed em.”

James cackled

“Har har. Like you’d have any better luck!”

You quipped chomping down on a fry.

“That a bet?”

“Say it is what’s in it for me?”

“Name your price.”

You paused for a moment thinking what you could ask for that would fuck James over the most.

“Alright if I win Taylor and Joanne get next Saturday off”

You stopped briefly letting James feel the knife sink in.

Then twisted.

“With pay and tips.”

“Saturday off for my best waitress and bartender or admit I ain’t a ladies man. Hard to tell if your bastard or a gentleman.”

“Why not both.”

“Alright lad, I’m in”

“Your terms?”

“One hundred bones if I get a kiss from a lass or your ladies’ get their night off.”

“Deal”

You replied shaking his hand.

“So who did you have in mind?”

In the time since your arrival Murphy’s had slowly begun to fill with patrons. While the sheer numbers of marks were on his side; you noted the demographics as primarily college-aged women. Not an insurmountable task for James but certainly a jump in difficulty. Another hurdle was the time. It was still too early for any mark’s inhibitions or standards to be impeded by the ****. Some basic napkin maths was all you needed to know you had this bet in the bag.

Some big-brain thinking right there.

James idly scanned the room for a potential mark. You watched his face for the slightest break in his poker face but worryingly nothing. There was no way you were wrong. He was going to lose. You knew it.

“Psst, redhead lass your five o’clock. She’s been eyeing me since you walked in. I’ll have her in no time flat.”

Shifting you caught a glimpse of his mark and your jaw dropped.

A mature woman, she wore a halo of reddish-orange hair the shade of a summer sunset. Statuesque, she cleared six feet or 182cm in her heels and carried her voluptuous figure quite well with the same sultry poise and presence of old Hollywood.

On a regular night you’d say James had a better chance of finding ice water in hell than scoring with this woman. But continuing to observe this modern-day Marilyn you perceived the minute chinks in her armor.

The pallor of her skin was tinted with the rosy color of inebriation. The warm flush was most evident over her cute Greek nose which wrinkled with every unintentional stumble. Her heels which she normally wore with precision and grace of a pointe shoe now wore her. Each step now more akin to a newborn gazelle than ballet dancer.

In this state assuming her mind was as empty as her stomach, James wouldn’t have any trouble.

“Shit”

“What was that lad?”

“Nothing, just go shoot your shot.”

“With pleasure!”

He hollowed giving the air a honk-honk.

Nervously you nibbled a fish stick.

Meanwhile James approached the woman and straightaway doled out his best Don Juan impression.