His grin widened. “I was talking about bowling.”
“Sure you were…”
By the time my drink arrived, I was already losing bad enough that I had stopped checking the score. I took a long sip of my margarita while Vice stood beneath the screen looking at the numbers like he was playing in a professional tournament instead of beating a woman who hadn’t bowled in years.
“You might wanna pick that up,” he said.
I lowered my glass. “Pick what up?”
“Your score…”
“You know, I was having a good time.”
“You still having one.”
“I was...”
Vice laughed as I stood and grabbed my ball. I took my time lining up my shot, determined to at least knock down enough pins to shut him up, only for the ball to roll directly into the gutter.
Vice didn’t say a word.
I slowly turned around and found him sitting there with his lips pressed together. “Don’t.”
“I ain’t say shit.”
I walked back toward the couch and picked up my drink. “I’m starting to understand why you’re single.”
Vice leaned back and looked at me. “Oh, so you been thinking about why I’m single?”
“No.”
“You brought it up.”
“I made an observation.”
“Sound like you’ve been thinking to me.”
I took another sip instead of responding, which only made him laugh.
The server brought our food not long after that, and for the next two hour, we ate, drank and talked between turns. By the time I finished my second margarita, I was feeling good enough that I stopped caring about how badly I was losing. The alcohol had loosened me up just enough to make everything funnier, including Vice’s unnecessary celebration every time he knocked down all ten pins.
“One more game,” I announced after losing the second one.
Vice looked up at the screen. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to win.”
“You ain’t won yet.”
“I was warming up.”
“For two games?”
I pointed at him. “See, this is why nobody likes playing with people like you.”
“People who win?”
“People who likes to throw their wins in your face.”