. you're supposedly a trained athlete."She knew I was serious, that this wasn't some petty act. "I'm sorry... I was late... I was supposed to train wi...h friends," she started lamely."It's eleven thirty at night... you're the only person in the fucking gym... we have machines you coulda used. Now get out of here before I get really mad," I raged. She got up off the bench with a real hand-dog expression on her face, and without another word started trudging towards the locker room."Hey you," I. “I don’t want any of these ladies thinking I was waiting for my boyfriend to show up to celebrate with a sausage party.”“What ladies? There’s nobody here but the bar staff. And they’re like, forty.”“Yeah, naughty forty. And I tip well.” I caught the eye of the nearest bartender and pointed to my empty glass. She nodded. “Shit, Derek. What’s it been? Two years?”“Three and change, but who’s counting?”My drink came.“A double, for last call,” the bartender said. “Congratulations again. And thanks. More

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