Chances Are

I met a girl at a bar. She was attractive, so we flirted with suggestive words and lingering stares. She seemed ripe, like ready fruit for the picking. I asked for her name and number.

She said, "You can find me on page 917 in the phone book. First column, third name from the top."

Was this a wanting tease, or a clever brush-off? I'd been there for both in the past, but I was feeling vulnerable these last few weeks, not really sure if I could handle any type of rejection. I put off looking for her name in the white pages for a couple of days until curiosity got the better of me.

Best to use a pay phone, I thought. I opened the phone book, found the page and column, and counted down three names. With my lucky index finger I pushed the silver buttons.

After three rings I got: "Leonardo Pizza."

"I'd like a large Hawaiian, but go easy on the ham."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, you know an attractive blond with long legs, a nameless flirt who plays with a man's heart?"

"We got one of those. Is that delivery or pick-up?"