Everywhere That Tommy Goes Read Free

agree?”
    “Are we talking about drinks?” she asks him, like she really cares.
    “I’m talking about everything . . . life, in general, and all it has to offer.”
    “Interesting analogy,” she says, “but way too deep for a place like this.” She smiles, turns, and walks down the bar to serve some loudmouth, big-haired Goth chick.
    Troyer turns and whispers in my ear, “She’ll be back quick. Just watch.”
    Two minutes later, she’s back with his drink. Sliding it across the bar, she says, “Where you from, handsome?”
    “Down Under, luv,” he answers, in that same bullshit accent. Man, it’s smooth, though. I didn’t even know he could talk like that.
    Grinning, the chick says, “I figured as much.” Then she goes, “That’ll be twelve bucks, tourist, but the next one is on me.”
    Troyer turns to me for a second, smiles quick-like, and nods me off, like I should just disappear. Then he turns back to the babe and slides her a hundred-dollar bill. “What makes you think I’m a tourist?”
    “Well, aside from the accent—mate,” she giggles, “you don’t have that phony, toughguy, New York attitude I see here night after night.”
    “Truth is, luv, I’m just passing through—visiting my cousin for a spell and don’t know my way around here at all. He’s working tonight, so I’m on my own.”
    Now, I’m barely hearing all this, because I move down the bar and act like I don’t know him. But I have to say, the dude is smooth. He’s got the attention of the hottest bartender in the place in less than two minutes. I definitely have to get me an accent.
    I watch him for a while as the chick bounces around serving people, making drinks, and doing the whole bartender thing. But every few minutes, she comes back to him and smiles all sweet and shit. Meanwhile, I keep trying to get his attention. He either flat-out ignores me or gives me these looks like I should take a hike or something. I guess he wants to make her believe he’s really a tourist and doesn’t know anyone, so I can’t blame him. But shit, now I’m gonna miss out on the brunette with the tongue piercing.
    Finally, when the chick leaves the bar for a minute, he walks over to me and leans in, mouth to ear. “Sorry, Tommy Boy. I got this thing going on here, and I don’t want to mess it up. She thinks I’m from Australia and I don’t know anyone. I’m getting her to show me around later on, when she gets off. She’s going to cut out at one, just for me.” Apparently, I didn’t hear their entire conversation. Troyer is always smoother than I even expect him to be. “I’ll make it up to you another time, I promise. And hey, look—you can still hang out here. Just don’t make like you know me.”
    “No problem,” I say to him, but I don’t mean it. This totally sucks. I’m not real good all alone in places like this. I hate feeling like a fly on the wall, just peering at everything and looking desperate. But you know what? I’ll tough it out—watch him and learn.
    “You sure you’re going be okay?” he asks me.
    “Yeah, I’m sure. But what about those other chicks you were supposed to meet?”
    “Don’t sweat it,” Troyer says, as he takes out his cell and punches in a number. “I’m going to call them right now and tell them I can’t make it out tonight. They’ll be cool about it. Women always are.”
    Maybe they are to him, but not to me.
    So he calls the chicks and blows them off. They don’t seem to care—at least it sounds like they’re cool about it. I mean, Troyer smiles at me and nods the okay, just before the hot bartender chick comes back and he snubs me.
    So I back off, disappear into the crowd, and watch him play her for a bit. Then I wander around, find my way to the other bar, and hit the sauce real hard. Later on, I come back for another look. By this time, Troyer’s got the babe leaning in on him and smiling so much that she’s ignoring the rest of the dudes at the bar. Me, I’m